Page 87 of How Much Wine Will Fix My Broken Heart?
I hear boys snigger behind the screen. This information is peak pub quiz knowledge.
‘So you’re looking for a smooth contour. You may be able to feel certain ducts within the ball sack that carry sperm – these are not lumps but you want to feel for any lumps in the general shape; roll them around in your hand between your fingers. They should feel like long eggs…’
‘I’m not dressed for this,’ Doug says out of the corner of his mouth.
I try to hold back my laughs. ‘Neither am I.’
‘Is that a lump?’ I hear a voice say. I am a tad nervous for one of the lads for a moment.
‘That’s a hair follicle. Hair is totally natural. A lot of hair, in your case.’
Doug has to turn around to have a moment.
‘What are these then?’ asks one boy.
‘Are you sexually active?’ the doctor asks.
‘Yes.’
Oh dear, someone get that one some antibiotics. Behind a screen, I see a row of shorts around ankles. Oh Lord, that man’s head of geography; Tom disliked him because he used to lecture everyone about their carbon footprint and rode a bike to school that had six mirrors. He’s going to get his balls out in the school gym. He waves at me. I wave back. I really don’t know how I feel about this. Balls. They’re the ultimate boy joke, up there with farts, willies, wind and jizz. They’re such ugly-looking things too. We barely even give them a second thought. Which is probably where we went wrong. Look at this, Tom Kennedy. They’re all checking their knackers on your behalf. You must be bloody loving this, wherever you are. I see Bethan approaching me with a roving cameraman who sets up his equipment in front of us.
‘So I’ll just ask you some questions and then we’ll get this off to the editing suite. Relax, it’ll all be quite easy.’
‘So how do I check my prostate?’ I hear a voice say from behind a curtain. I’m no doctor but I believe that’s tomorrow’s segment. Definitely bring gloves for that.
‘So it’s a special day at the Latymer Academy today,’ starts BBC Bethan. ‘Nearly four years after one of their teachers died tragically from testicular cancer, the staff and students are gathered here today to celebrate the opening of a new wing of the school built in his honour. A ceremony this afternoon is being preceded by a clinic session led by a charity which is encouraging the male students here to check their testicles regularly… And with us today is Grace Kennedy, who was Tom’s wife…’
Crap. That’s me. Nice segue, Bethan, from the vision of hundreds of testicles to me. I don’t know how to tell her I no longer take Tom’s name. Yikes. Run with it. She doesn’t introduce Doug but he stands close to me for the support and probably for safety from all the exposed cojones in the room.
‘Grace, what are your thoughts about today?’
The whole day? Or just this moment where I’m playing witness to all these kids paying tribute to my husband by checking out their mansacks? I hope they got written consents from the parents.
‘I just think it’s great,’ I say. ‘This is so important and if Tom would have wanted anything to come from his death, it would be for people to think more about their health at any age.’
Doug smiles. Wow, that was quite eloquent of me, plus I didn’t cry.
‘How old was Tom when he passed away?’
‘He was twenty-eight.’
Bethan shakes her head in disbelief, in sadness.
‘And can you tell us any more about the symptoms that alerted him to his illness?’
‘Well, I think the problem is that he thought nothing of them. He had some lumps in one of his testicles and then fatigue, stomach pains, which is when he finally went to a doctor.’
‘So if he’d gone to a doctor earlier then he might still be alive?’
I freeze for a moment. When someone dies, you think in hypotheticals all the time. It’s the very beauty of hindsight. We used to play-fight a lot and I’d pretend to kick him in the balls. Sometimes I made contact. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe he wore his trousers too tight. He liked to drink carbonated drinks; he was a sucker for Diet Coke. Was that what caused his cancer? And yes, I’d have gone travelling with him when we left university or visited him more, or left my ego at the door every time we fought or tried to psychoanalyse our relationship. As soon as I saw that lump, I should have dragged him to a doctor myself under some false pretence. Oh, we’re just going to talk about vitamins. Even when he was ill, I should have told him to fight harder, try every drug going; I should have done more to make him stay.
‘Possibly,’ said Doug, sensing my unease. ‘But I guess cancer is a roll of the dice like that. Tom was just desperately unlucky. I’m Doug. I was his best friend.’
‘And what do you think about today, Doug?’
‘I’d say Tom would be happy to have this as his legacy. If he can stop anyone getting ill or losing a loved one then that would be enough. For all these lads to be here with cameras in the room. Well, that takes a lot of balls… not balls. I mean, we need the balls here to do what we need to do. Like, courage, that’s a better word…’
‘Do you check your balls, Doug?’ Bethan asks, digging him out of his hole.
