Healthcare is a fancy word for the government trying to tell me what my favorite flavor is. People are healthier than they think most of the time. To illustrate, here’s a third-hand anecdote packed with first-rate action.
My friend’s younger brother just started his first year at a college whose name sounds like “squidmore.” One day during orientation, this bright-eyed youngster was denuding with a lady friend, and just when the situation turned adult, she excused herself. Had to call her boyfriend or something. The young man went on his merry way, thinking himself quite the sailor, when suddenly, he was betrayed by two very angry testicles. He waddled, bolt upright and without hesitation, to the health center, all the while complaining about the “clamping sensation, like my balls are stuck in a fucking transmission.”
Finding no male staff on hand, he rushed to the hospital. After the doctors poked and prodded his upset sac for a few minutes, he received the grave report. “Take a seat, son,” the doctor warned. “It appears that you’re suffering from testicular vaso congestion.” After a moment of sinking silence, he clarified: “Remember to finish beating off next time.”