Freshers Ch. 06

"Ohh-h-h-h, yeah-h-h-h," I murmured contentedly as my twin sister fondled and caressed my masculine parts.

I was in utter heaven at that moment, but unbeknownst to me I was about to be brought crashing down to earth with an almighty thud.

Beth moved her hand from my penis and softly cupped my balls. In a matter of moments she was gently caressing them and rolling them around in her hand. Her mouth meanwhile moved away from my chest and instead engulfed my erection. It was bliss beyond words! I was absolutely loving the cacophony of sensations I was feeling at that moment, and I felt myself careening towards my point of no return. I could feel Beth's fingers all over my testicles, softly squeezing them, gently caressing them, sensuously stroking them.

Until...

She suddenly stopped.

"Hahh, don't stop!" I implored her.

"Tommy, there's..."

"I said don't stop!"

"Tommy, listen to me!"

"I was so close! Why'd you stop?"

"Tommy!"

Suddenly, my sister had my full attention. I looked at her, frozen on the spot with my balls in her right hand.

"Tommy, there's... there's a..." she stuttered. "Oh shit, Tommy, I've found a lump - on your left testicle!"

I must have gone as white as a sheet at that moment, for I felt all the blood drain from my upper body and pool at my feet. It took a few moments to sink in, but then a black spectre clouded my vision - a spectre by the name of Testicular Cancer.

"Here, feel it for yourself," Beth said, taking my hand and guiding towards where she had felt the lump she claimed to have found.

It took me a few moments, but sure enough there it was - a small protrusion, barely larger than a grain of rice, on the otherwise smooth surface of the outside of my left testicle.

"Oh my God, Beth!" I gasped as I felt the lump. "I've got cancer!"

"Listen to me, Tommy," I heard her say, although my mind was racing at ten to the dozen at that moment. "Don't panic, okay?"

"Don't panic? That's easy for you to say!" I responded. "You're not the one with a tumour!"

"Tommy!" Beth answered me firmly, briefly bringing me back to some form of rationality. "There are other things it might be instead of cancer, okay? Now, take a deep breath and compose yourself, panicking about this will do good at all!"

She was of course one hundred percent right - damn her!

I took several long and deep breaths and tried to compose myself, which under the circumstances was easier said than done. But I managed to rein myself in a little and focused on the here and now.

"Oh shit, Beth, what am I gonna do?" I beseeched her.

"The first thing you're going to do is to calm down, and instead try and get some sleep," Beth responded. "And the second thing you're going to do is get an appointment to see a doctor first thing in the morning, okay?"

"Er, yeah, um, okay," I replied to her totally rational suggestions.

"It'll be alright, Tommy, I promise you," Beth said as she stroked my hair. "And if it is something serious, which I doubt it is, I'll be right by your side - all the way. You're my twin brother, Tommy, as well as my lover and the very best friend I could ever have, and I love you more than any words could ever express."

Her words, coupled with the enormous implications that now faced me, caused tears to well in my eyes.

"It's okay to cry, Tommy," Beth said to me as she cradled me against her. "It's totally okay to cry. And don't let anyone ever tell you that it isn't."

So cry I did - all night in fact, until at some time in the very early hours of the following morning I finally drifted off into the arms of sleep.

Diagnosis (Tommy)

When I awoke the next morning, the sun was streaming into the bedroom through the narrow gap between the curtains, which meant that it was already past nine o'clock. For a blissful moment I felt as though everything was right in the world. But of course, that only lasted for all of a few seconds before the memory of the previous night's discovery came crashing back into my mind like some uninvited interloper.

Beth was already downstairs, as I could hear her working in the kitchen, presumably making us some coffee. When she came back upstairs and entered the room she was fully dressed - I guess what happened last night had put her off from staying undressed. She entered the room with a tray, upon which was laid out a pot of coffee, two mugs, and a large and hearty full English breakfast.

"I totally understand if you don't feel like eating right now," she said to me as she set the tray upon my lap. "But you won't do yourself any good if you don't eat anything, so I thought I'd treat you to breakfast in bed."

"Aww, thanks, sis," I replied as I marvelled at the effort she had clearly put into it. "You needn't have gone to so much trouble, really."

"It's no trouble at all," she insisted in reply. "I love you, you big ol' Tommy-bear, and want to help you get through this in any way I can."

To make her point, she leaned across and planted a long kiss upon my cheek.

"Now, you get that down you, and as soon as you're done you're going to get on the phone and book an appointment to see a doctor, okay?" she commanded me. "And don't worry about your lectures today - I took the liberty of calling your course tutor and told him that you won't be in today."

She looked at the sudden expression on my face and instantly read my thoughts - well, she was always more finely attuned to our neural connection than I ever was.

"Don't worry, I didn't tell him exactly why you wouldn't be coming in," she assured me. "I know finding a lump on your testicle is a bit embarrassing to admit to, so I just told him you were feeling a bit off-colour and left it at that."

"Thanks, sis," I responded at last, genuinely grateful for her favour.

I surprised myself by managing to get through the sizeable breakfast of bacon, fried egg, sausage, beans and fried bread, and was equally surprised by how well it had been executed. Beth will always openly admit that out of the two of us I was always a far better cook than her! And as soon as I was finished I did as I was told and went downstairs to book an appointment to get myself checked out.

"Good morning, Orchard Surgery, how may I help you?" I heard the receptionist answer on the third ring.

"Er, hi, I need to book an appointment to see a doctor," I replied, and instantly chastised myself for stating the blindingly obvious.

"Okay, may I take your name please?"

I stated my full name - calling myself 'Thomas' always sounds a little odd to me since everyone, well, with the exception of my dad for some reason, always calls me Tommy.

"Okay, and what symptoms do you have?" the receptionist responded.

"I, er, I found a lump last night," I replied, and then took a deep breath before continuing. "On one of my testicles."

"Right," the receptionist on the other end of the line answered. "And you are registered as a patient with us?"

"I am, yes."

"And who is your usual GP?"

"Doctor Mandersley," I replied.

"Okay, that's fine."

I heard her flicking through what I assumed was the appointments book - the NHS was considerably less computerised in those days.

"Well I'm afraid Doctor Mandersley's schedule is full today," the receptionist said after a few moments, but Doctor Pitmore has an appointment available for this afternoon. Since yours is an urgent case I shall book you in for that one right away, is that okay?"

"Er, yes, that's fine," I replied.

And so my appointment was booked, and I hoped that my mind would be put at rest and that whatever the good doctor found on my testicle would be simply written off as being absolutely nothing to worry about.

* * * * * *

Some six hours later I found myself sitting in the waiting room at the Orchard Surgery practice, located a short distance from the verdant space of West Bank Park. I was of course feeling exceptionally anxious and my nerves were in tatters as I sat and waited for my name to be called. Pretty much every seat was occupied, and I realised then that I was indeed fortunate to have got an appointment at such short notice.

Around twenty minutes after I had reported to the receptionist on my way in, the door to one of the consulting rooms, bearing a small blue plastic sign with Dr. S Pitmore MB ChB, MRCGP emblazoned upon it in white letters, opened and a tall woman in her late thirties stepped out. She called my name and briefly surveyed the waiting room until I stood up and came towards her.

"Please come on in, Thomas," she said pleasantly as she stepped aside and invited me into the room.

"Er, please, call me Tommy - everybody else does. Well, apart from my father, for some reason," I replied as I went in and took a seat beside her desk.

It was a typical consulting room such as you might find at any GP's surgery - a desk with a comfortable office chair in one corner of the room, upon which was arranged the usual accoutrements as you might find in any medical establishment - a stethoscope, a sphygmomanometer, an otoscope and a pot full of wooden tongue depressors in little sterile paper wrappings. In the other corner of the room stood an examination bed, topped with a layer of blue paper that came from a roll at one end, and surrounded by a curtain. A small box of toys sat beneath it, presumably to occupy the small but restless hands of some of the younger patients Doctor Pitmore had to deal with during the course of her work.

"Tommy it is then," Doctor Pitmore replied as she sat down in her chair. "Sarah Pitmore, now, you said that you have found a lump on one of your testicles."

"Er, yes, that's correct," I replied nervously.

Of course, I knew what was about to happen - I would soon be asked to take my trousers and pants down, and although I had no issue with the nudity part (after all, I was a naturist and also a life model for one of Beth's art tutors) the medical aspect of it all made me feel quite uneasy.

"Well, I'm sure the first conclusion you might have reached is that it could be cancer," the doctor went on. "Well, let me say right away that although it isn't something we can immediately rule out at this stage, Testicular Cancer is actually fairly rare, although it is most commonly found in young men in your age group. But if found early enough it is quite easily treated, and with a ninety-five percent success rate of treatment, so if that is what it is, the odds are you'll make a full recovery. But let's not get ahead of ourselves here - there are other things that it could be that we need to rule out first."

"Such as?" I asked her.

"There are several things that it could be," she replied. "A hydrocele, for example. That's an accumulation of fluid, a little like a blister, that can sometimes form on or around the testes. Or a varicocele, which is similar to varicose veins that can affect the legs in old age. Those are the two most likely to present themselves as a lump on the testicles, but there are other things it could be, such as an epididymal cyst, which as its name suggests is a small cyst located on the epididymis - the tight tight coil of tubes located above and behind the testicle that stores mature sperm cells, or it could simply be testicular torsion, which is when the spermatic cord becomes twisted, affecting the blood supply, which can often be felt in the form of a lump. All of which are completely benign and non-cancerous."

"I see," I replied, feeling a little relieved that the lump could be something much less serious, but still anxious about exactly what it was.

"So, we'd best have a quick look at you," Doctor Pitmore said as she pushed her chair away from her desk and gestured towards the examination bed. "Just slip your trousers and pants down for me and hop up onto the bed there."

I swallowed the lump that had suddenly risen in my throat and did as she instructed. Nervously, I took down my trousers, followed moments later by my underpants - Beth had made sure that I was wearing the best pair I possessed - and I dutifully sat up on the examination bed and laid myself down on the crinkling layer of blue paper. Whilst I was undressing, Doctor Pitmore slipped on a pair of latex examination gloves. I felt a chill around my bared midriff, and I felt utterly exposed as I laid there with my genitalia on open display.

"Now then, let's see if we can find this lump of yours," the doctor said as she took hold of my scrotum in her right hand. "Which testicle was it?"

"The left one," I replied.

Doctor Pitmore spent a few moments rolling my left testicle around in her hand.

"Ah, here we are," she announced as she located the offending lump on my left gonad. "Hmm, there's clearly something there."

She spent a few more moments palpating my testicle before briefly checking the right one for good measure.

"Well the other one feels nice and healthy," she said as she rolled my right testicle around. "Tell me, have you felt anything odd in your scrotum recently? A slight feeling of heaviness, or any mild pain or anything?"

"Er, well I did notice a sort of mild stab of pain when I, er, ejaculated a couple of weeks ago. And again a couple of nights ago when I was with my, er, girlfriend."

"Okay, that's fine, you can get down off the bed now," the doctor announced as she removed her gloves and tossed them into a small yellow bin beside the bed.

I gratefully pulled my underwear back up and as soon as my trousers were back in place and my flies zipped up she invited me to sit beside her desk once more.

"Right, well I can confirm that there is definitely some form of growth there on your testicle, but I can't make a diagnosis at this stage," she said as she looked directly at me. "Now that doesn't mean I think it might be a tumour, but it's definitely something that needs looking into. So, let's get you booked in at the hospital for an ultrasound scan - that will give us a much clearer picture of what's going on."

"I know you seem to think that it isn't a tumour, but if it was, what would happen to me then?" I asked her.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear her answer, but I simply felt that I had to know the full implications if I did indeed have Testicular Cancer.

"Well, as I said it's most likely to be something benign, but if it was found to be something malignant, the first course of action is to perform an orchiectomy," she explained.

"Orchiectomy?"

"An orchiectomy is the surgical removal of a testicle," the doctor responded. "But that would only have to be performed if the oncologist is almost entirely certain that it is cancerous. After that you would probably be given a course of radiotherapy or chemotherapy, but that would mainly be as a precautionary measure to ensure that the cancer doesn't spread to your lymph glands.

"Now, unfortunately one of the side effects of radiotherapy is that it would likely render you infertile, so you would be invited to bank some of your sperm beforehand. But as I said, it's most likely to be something else, so the best thing you can do is to not worry yourself at this stage. Once you've had the ultrasound we'll know much more, okay?"

"Er, yes, right," I replied. "How long would would I have to wait for that?"

"Not long - only about a week or so," Doctor Pitmore answered. "Testicular cases are dealt as a priority, since if it is malignant catching it early will greatly improve the outcome."

"I see."

"I'll book the appointment right away, and you should receive the details in the next couple of days."

"Right, well thanks for seeing me at short notice like this."

"Not at all, that's what I'm here for. But remember - don't panic, okay?"

"Thanks, I'll try not to."

Picking Up Terri (Beth)

After his appointment with the doctor, Tommy seemed to be in a better frame of mind, though it was still clear that he had a lot on his mind and it didn't last for very long. Of course I tried my best to keep his mind from wandering down too many dark paths, and I had to constantly remind him of what the doctor had told him. Believe me, it was hard work at times! But I couldn't blame him at all - I guess I would be the same if I was in his position.

Today though, Terri was returning from her extended stay back home with her mother in Westborough On Sea repairing the damage to their relationship. I couldn't wait to see her again, even though it had only been a couple of weeks since I last saw her. I hoped that she and her mum had managed to make more progress since our last encounter over the Christmas holidays. But of course my joy in seeing her again was tainted somewhat by having to break the news to her of Tommy's current predicament, and I was not looking forward to it.

The sleek InterCity 125 train, resplendent in its smart blue and grey livery pulled into York railway station spot on time, which was quite an achievement for British Rail back then in the mid 1980's! I spotted her fairly quickly as she disembarked, considerably more weighted down than she had been when she first arrived at our front door that night earlier in the year after hitchhiking all the way from Doncaster.

"Terri!" I called out to her as I dashed towards her.

She had no fewer than two suitcases with her, in addition to a large rucksack on her back.

"Beth!" she responded gleefully.

She dropped her suitcases and we embraced each other in a friendly hug.

"How are you?" I asked her. "I take it things went okay with your mum - I see you don't have any scars or bruises on you, so I take it that's a good sign!"

"It's been fine," Terri replied as she picked up one of her suitcases. "It was good, in fact. It was nice just to be a daughter again, you know? Without any of mum's old ways to spoil things - she really has seemed to have turned over a new leaf. Anyway, how are you?"

"I'm fine," I responded as I picked up her other suitcase.

"And Tommy?"

"Ah, well, um, not so good, I'm afraid."

"Why? What's wrong?" Terri queried. "Is he okay?"

"I'll, er, I'll tell you about it in the buffet over a cup of tea, okay?"

I led her across to the station buffet and found a table in a relatively quiet corner where we could talk without being overheard too much. I purchased two cups of tea and joined her at the table.

"So, what's the matter with Tommy?" she asked me as she took a first sip of tea. "Is it something serious?"

I couldn't beat around the bush with her, she had every right to know what was happening and Tommy had already told me it was okay for me to break the news to our friend and roommate.

"It could be," I answered her openly. "But I'm hoping it isn't."

"Why? What's the matter with him?"

"Well, the other night we were, y'know, in bed together, and things were getting a bit heated," I began in a hushed tone. "Tommy had just given me a wonderful orgasm and I was in the middle of returning the favour when I... I found a lump."

"A lump? What, on Tommy? Where?"

"On one of his testicles," I responded. "There's a chance it might be cancer."

"Oh my God!" Terri gasped. "Can men really get cancer there? On their testicles?"

It was at times like this that I could curse that mother of hers from shielding her from such knowledge about members of the opposite sex.

"Yes, they can," I replied. "In fact, Testicular Cancer is the most common form of the disease in men of Tommy's age group."

"So, does this mean he's like, really seriously ill?" Terri asked.

"Well, like I said, I'm hoping he isn't," I responded. "There are other things it could be which are non-cancerous. But we won't know anything until after he has an ultrasound scan done on his testicles. He has an appointment at the hospital for tomorrow afternoon, and as I'm sure you can understand he's pretty anxious about it."