Shorty’s little secret
A lesson about a biological anomaly
“Shorty Gellar, you’re nothing but
a dirty liar!” screamed Stevie.
“I’m not lying, Stevie. Why in the
world would I want to lie about some
thing like this?”
“I don’t know, maybe you’re try
ing to impress someone. Either way,
you’re a har, Shorty!”
Shorty became frustrated. He
stood up on top of the lunch table
where he and his friends had been sit
ting, looming over Stevie. By this
time, all of the administrators and stu
dents in the lunchroom turned their
attention away from their chocolate
milk pints and hash-brown triangles 1
and focused on Shorty as he prepared
to speak.
In the fashion of a great orator,
Shorty pointed his finger in Stevie’s
face as he composed himself. “I’m
telling you for the last time, Stevie
McKenzie,” he fumed. “One of my
testicles used to be in my abdomen!”
The lunchroom’s oxygen vanished
as one hundred students collectively
gasped. All of the grade-school girls
looked at each other, perplexed, real
izing that they’d heard the word “testi
cle” before but weren’t quite sure
what it meant.
The female teachers frantically
scrambled, looking for some prema
ture-sexual-word alarm to pull. The
male teachers grimaced as they slow
ly lowered their hands toward their
mid-sections. The sex-ed teacher
screamed, aware that his lectures were
about to seem a lot less interesting.
The students at school that day
were never given an explanation of
what Shorty Gellar was talking about.
Every student’s parents were sent a
letter from the administration encour
aging thought about discussing sexual
topics with their children. Most of
them didn’t bother.
That day, the sex-ed teacher was
given orders by the superintendent to
go home and find out if anything that
Shorty Gellar was saying made any
sense. After a long night of research
and alcohol, he showed up at school
the next morning with exactly what
the superintendent had asked for: A
file full of information about unde
scended testicles.
Like everyone else in school on
the day of Shorty Gellar’s speech, and
many other people for that matter, the
superintendent had never heard of
undescended testicles. But after
spending some time studying the
information given to him, he soon
was able to understand the condition
of which Shorty had spoken and why
he had become so angry when argu
ing with Stevie McKenzie.
***
The scientific name for unde
scended testicles is cryptorchidism.
The definition of cryptorchidism is
the failure of one or both testicles to
move from the abdominal cavity to
the scrotum through the inguinal
canal before birth. According to
Adam.com, undescended testicles are
fairly common in premature infants
and occur in about three to four per
cent of full-term infants. In these
cases, the testicles typically descend
by three months of age.
It’s easy to see why so few people
are educated about cryptorchidism.
With such a small number of male
infants affected, having an unde
scended testicle does not seem like
much of a problem. However, for the
small number of individuals who have
been affected, cryptorchidism is not
laughable.
Although undescended testicles
usually descend spontaneously, there
are rare cases in which the problem
does not correct itself. Research
shows that testicles that do not
descend after one year should be eval
uated carefully. Recent studies sug
gest that definitive surgery should be
accomplished by three years of age to
confirm diagnosis and to lessen the
likelihood of developing testicular
cancer later in life.
KidsHealth.org lists many other
reasons why undescended testicles
should be examined. For example, the
higher temperature of an individual’s
body may inhibit the normal growth
of sperm in a testicle that is unde
scended. Furthermore, undescended
testicles are more susceptible to form
ing tumors and are more vulnerable to
injury. Finally, an asymmetrical or
empty scrotum may cause worry and
embarrassment.
The only reason we knew any
thing about undescended testicles to
begin with was we have both known
individuals who have suffered from
an undescended testicle. One of the
testicles in question did not descend
and had to be moved during surgery
at age three. Upon interview, the
patient told us that he still has a scar
on his lower abdomen from the opera
tion.
Later in the same interview, the
individual took the liberty of telling
us a story about an uncle of his.
According to this individual, his uncle
was bom with a testicle that he was
able to move up and down on one side
of his body.
After the interview, we continued
our research and were unable to find
any information about something
such as this occurring. “He could
move it all the way up to his shoul
der,” said the interviewee. We’re not
so sure. You can decide for yourself.
Frankly, we don’t know what we
expect you to make of all of this. We
just thought that we’d take the oppor
tunity to let a few people know about
something that we feel is fairly impor
tant. Nearly one of every 125 boys is
bom with an undescending testicle.
We know that there is no way to
prevent cryptorchidism. We just want
to make sure that everyone is educat
ed. That way, the Shorty Gellars of the
world can relax, sex ed can remain
exciting as ever, and a few more testi
cles can find their way home.
Chris Gustafson is a sophomore agricultural economics major and Lucas Christian Stock is a freshman English major.
They are Daily Nebraskan columnists.
Labor of love
Just another day for just another preacher
The motel room around me moans
quietly as it warms in the new day’s
sun. Next door I can hear Steve mov
ing about, packing his things. My
things are still scattered on my bed, so
I can see them all at once.
I run through a memorized mental
checklist. It isn’t really hard to remem
ber things any more -1 guess Bible
College does that to you. I go through
the list forwards, then backwards, then
randomly. I count my Bible, my ties,
my shoes, two times, three times, four
times. The TV’s off.
I turn it on and start packing.
Morning news blares, “High of 72
today, mostly sunny, low tonight 50.
Tomorrow, slightly warmer...” Good,
sunscreen weather. I wish I had my
sunglasses, but they aren’t good for
these sorts of gigs. I fold my pants
carefully because I hate bothering
Steve for his iron, though I know I wi|l
have to anyway. He’s a stickler for
detail; he’ll see the slightest crease in
my pants.
I zip up my duffel bags, and I’m
ready to go. I glance at my watch, have
a few minutes still, so I take out my
wallet and count my money. Not
much, but I get paid after we leave
town, and I have enough until then. I
check my hair in the mirror. I don’t
like this hairdo, but ever since I
jumped on with Steve it’s been this
way. I arrange, re-arrange it. I shake
my head slightly, messing my hair up,
and then straighten it again. A knock at
die door.
Steve lets himself in. “Ready to go,
Tim?”
“Yeah,” I say, turning off the TV I
grab my stuff and follow him out into
the sun. The light blinds me. I follow
Steve to the vans.
“Lisa’s sick today, Tim,” Steve
says, “so Beth will be your wife today.
My kids will become your kids. I’ll
stand on my own.” 1 •
I nod. I don’t like Beth much. I
don’t really like Lisa either. We gradu
ated from Bible College at the same
time and joined with Steve at the same
time. She’s nice and all, but there’s just
something about her that bothers me.
She’s a dog in some ways, so whimper
ing, so submissive.
Steve checks us out, and I start
packing the vans. Beth walks up with
her bags, Lisa follows, but the kids
carry her things. They hand me the
bags. “Thanks, Jeff and Jenny.” The
twins run back to the room. “How are
you feeling, Lisa?”
She moans, “All right, I guess,” she
says quietly.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just queasy, I guess,” she walks to
one of the vans, opens a door and sinks
into a seat
“What are you gomg to do today, if
you’re not going to help us out?”
“I’ll just hang out in the Union,
watch and stuff.” I hadn’t noticed she
was wearing her normal clothes, jeans
and a T-shirt, without the headband or
head covering she usually would wear
to a gig. I’m not quite used to the uni
form. “Steve doesn’t mind too much. I
owe Beth.” I nod.
Steve comes back, his keys dan
gling. He tosses a set to me. I hate how
he doesn’t let me just keep the keys to
the van. “There you go, bud,” he says,
slipping on a pair of sunglasses. We
pile into our respective vans. Driving, I
follow him out onto the street, to the
university we’re preaching at
today.
Lisa sits idly next to me
in the van, occasionally
sighing dramatically to
emphasize her discomfort.
I’m tempted to ask her what
exactly is wrong. But I
know what it is.
We hit the highway and
head into downtown. I
scratch at my beard. I hate
facial hair. I glance at ____
myself in the mirror. Being
blond, it doesn’t grow in
very heavily or consistently,
and it itches horribly.
Steve’s orders, though. I
suppose it will make me
look older, which is good I
guess, seeing as how I’m
not much older than the
crowds I’m preaching to. But I hate it.
Lisa taps at the window. A nervous
habit, all the way from Portland she’s
been tapping that window. I don’t say
anything. The tapping means she will.
I wait for it.
“Do you ever regret joining
Steve?” she asks. I’m quiet for a
moment
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I don’t
think about it much. It’s what I do, is
all.”
She looks out her window, tapping.
“I wish I didn’t join him. I hate this. I
hate all the yelling.”
“I just don’t listen.” She is quiet. “I
mean, that’s all. You have it easy any
way, Lisa; you just have to look sup
portive and bring me water. What do
they do to you?”
She sighs. “Oh, I don’t know, I just
don’t like it.” She really makes me
angry sometimes. What does she have
to do? And that tapping! Let her try
standing up and talking for hours
under the sun, the same tired argu
ments over and over, the same stu
dents sitting around and calling you «
a hypocrite when you’re f
just doing your job, but ,
Neal Obermeyer/DN
you can’t say that, because it’s part of
your job not to! I stay silent, not want
ing to break the uneasy truce we’ve
implicitly drawn.
Ahead, Steve signals a left turn,
and I do likewise. The city engulfs us
and we find campus. We drive another
several blocks before parking, to con
ceal our identity slightly.
We get out of our vans, Steve
walks up and I toss the keys to him. I
get into the back of the van and grab
my Bible from one of my duffels. Lisa
sticks behind while we go forward,
Steve and I in front, Beth and the chil
dren behind. Steve takes out some sun
screen and takes a dab. He offers me
the bottle. I do the same and pass it to
Beth. We walk quietly toward the cam
pus.
I never can get over how huge
these city campuses are. Bible College
was just a few buildings, mostly
unmarked, in the middle of Portland. I
regret joining Steve. He was nice when
he recruited us, but I guess I wasn’t
thinking long term. Bible College was
very aggressive about getting us
recruited. I wasn’t suited for mission
ary work, they told me, so I would be
best with someone like Steve. _
They’re probably right, I guess. I
don’t know these things. I trust them. I
love my work, I guess. I don’t know if
I’m changing things. But Steve says
that’s not the point. We’re not here to
change the world. We can’t change the
world, I guess. We’re here to bolster
the faithful. That’s what it’s all about, I
guess.
The day’s warmth is getting to me.
I look up, Steve motions to a bench in
front of the Union. I stand on the
bench. I look around, a few people are
starting to glance at me curiously. Beth
and the kids sit down nearby while
Steve finds a comfortable distance to
do his secondary preaching. I see Lisa
in the distance, walking in this direc
tion.
She blends right into the crowd.
I grab my Bible a little tighter, try
ing to remember why I do this. I fill
my lungs and adopt the mindset, put
ting up the wall, and I begin.
Jacob Glazeski is a senior music and math major and a Daily Nebraskan columnist