"You have cancer...in your penis..."
Let's face it: there isn't a man alive who would not, if given the choice, rather stare down 1,000 vicious Taliban fighters armed with nothing more than a wet noodle (oh no you didn't!) and a smile, than to hear that his beloved Johnson had become nothing but a deadly tumor hanging between his thighs.
Which brings us to the next question: if a doctor told you that in order to save your life he had to amputate your Willy, do you think you could live with the result?
Apparently, the answer for one man was a resounding "Hell NO!". Because he's suing the doctor who probably saved his life by removing his Babymaker before it killed him.
In this particular case, the plaintiff is alleging that the doctor took some initiative and did the deed without adequately informing him of both the risks and any possible alternate treatments.
Not to take this lightly, because dick cancer is no joke, but one would assume that when it came to such things, a doctor is probably better informed about the potential risks of leaving a cancerous Tallywhacker in situ than the average person.
But, this particular man feels differently.
And he should...he's lost the visible symbol of his manhood, and that has to be a terribly...ahem...hard...thing to deal with. After all, we men are all so attached to our Pork Pistols; they are the first -- and best -- friend we've all ever had, we've all spent many hours in communion with it, it is our constant companion. It is the source of most of our pleasure, and without a doubt, probably responsible for at least 80% of our egregious mistakes, as well.
Somehow, in a way the article does not make clear, there seems to have been a wide gap in communication between patient and doctor that somehow turns one man's 'circumcision' into another man's 'partial amputation'. I would have liked to have been a fly on the wall when that conversation, and mis-communication, took place, because, in retrospect, it must have been one hell of a conversation.
The now-dickless man in question claims that although he signed two separate consent forms, neither really counts because he's an illiterate hillbilly who didn't really understand and comprehend what he was signing. He is making the argument that the doctor, in effect, snookered him into giving permission to lop off his Bald-Headed Yogurt Chucker without first covering the possibility of alternative treatments.
Quite frankly, once you have a tumor inside the Baloney Pony I'm not certain there IS an alternative treatment.
By signing the consent form, Jethro Bodine gave Doctor Chopacockoff all the permission he needed, I gather, to perform a removal of the Trouser Trout if that was deemed the best option.
But do you get to sue a doctor for making that sort of medical decision when you've a) signed a form giving him that permission, and b) not designated anyone else to make the decision for you, if you can't? What,exactly, is a doctor supposed to do if presented with the choice of letting a man die from a diseased dingus, or, performing a surgery which might deprive the patient of Mr. Happy, but save his his life?
I wonder: would things have been different had this man been covered by Obamacare? Since that monstrosity was written by Putzes, it is reasonable to ask whether it might have saved this one.
And speaking of life, just what quality of life will this redneck now have, sans the Old One-Eyed Moisture-Seeking Missile? How will he be able to handle life without the ability to Grease the Pelican in his spare time, or play Hide the Salami with his livestock? Oh, the horrors of facing the world without your Third Leg!
I know, it sounds terrible to tie masturbation and sex into a question about "quality of life", but hey, you have to understand; a Man's life basically revolves around the axis of The Dipstick.
I've said it before, but it bears repeating, because the lesson of the Ding-a-Ling who Couldn't Read and his infected Ding-a-Ling is all too clear:
“Never, ever sign anything until you’ve read and understood it, or gotten the best legal advice you can find”.
Who would have thought that this simple axiom could have such dire consequences, when applied to the possibility of losing your Purple-Helmed Warrior?
And now I'm off to re-read my i-Tunes agreement, just in case...