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I went out to the privy to do my business … this was at least three years before we put in our first water…closet … and had gotten no further than the woodpile at the er of the house when I realized I couldn't hold it any longer。 I lowered my pajama pants just as the urine started to flow； and that flow was acpanied by the most excruciating。 pain of my entire life。 I passed a gall…stone in 1956； and I know people say that is the worst； but that gall…stone was like a touch of acid indigestion pared to this outrage。
My knees came unhinged and I fell heavily onto them； tearing out the seat of my pajama pants when I spread my legs to keep from losing my balance and going face…first into a puddle of my own piss。 I still might have gone over if I hadn't grabbed one of the woodpile logs with my left hand。 All that； though； could have been going on in Australia； or even on another pla。 All I was concerned with was the pain that had set me on fire； my lower belly was burning； and my penis … an organ which had gone mostly forgotten by me except when providing me the most intense physical pleasure a man can experience … now felt as if it were melting； I expected to look down and see blood gushing from its tip； but it appeared to be a perfectly ordinary stream of urine。
I hung onto the woodpile with one hand and put the other across my mouth； concentrating on keeping my mouth shut。 I did not want to frighten my wife awake with a scream。 It seemed that I went on pissing
