The very first time I could have been medically diagnosed was just before we left to go to England in the early 1970’s.
I knew I had entered puberty, and you can see some pretty good examples as to how I knew that on the Sex Education page. (This is from my Autobiography) Sometimes some Medical Reports say us XXY’s have a delayed onset of puberty. I reckon I’ve met more XXY’s than any G.P. in New Zealand, and probably more than John Delahunt. XXY’s tend to go into puberty just like everyone else, some even start a little earlier than everybody else, and that was my experience, compared to my cohorts…neat word that, “cohorts”, it’s almost like ‘conspirators in crime’, love it! I started puberty at 10. That’s why, I think, I’m not excessively tall, and why I have excellent genital development, except my testes that were under 1.0ml bilaterally.
We had to have a medical as well as innoculations and all that sort of stuff before we left for England. Me my brother and sister and Mum went to one Doctor, and my Dad always had another Doctor, no idea why he did that, or who that Doctor was. And the Doctor we saw I’d never seen before, and I was a regular at our local G.P. for all kinds of injuries. No broken bones, just all kinds of other injuries. I wish I could remember his name, oh well.
Oh, and by the way, I have no recollection of being told beforehand that we were going to this new Doctor, or for what reason. However, since I was wearing long trousers, it must have been a well planned matter. Otherwise I would have been in school uniform. And when someone fiddles with your balls, and you’re not expecting it, you remember it!
So we get there and my Mum comes in with me. I think that was the mistake. I think the Doctor should have seen me on my own. He checks my ears and eyes and throat, and ahh chest and blood pressure, and all that sort of stuff. Then he gets me to lay down on a bed, or whatever they call that bench with cushions. Then he asked me to undo my belt, so I did, I’m really good at following direct instructions. Then he asked me to undo my top button on my trousers, and I did that too. No worries. Then he pushed his hand down inside my trousers, past my pubic hair (that is SIGNIFICANT), and he used his index and middle finger to touch my balls, and it was really PAINFUL!
The reason it’s significant is that no matter how I appeared when I met this Doctor, physically immature for my age, and emotionally immature also, he must have known I’d entered puberty by what he felt. He should have done a proper examination.
My whole body just went into a spasm, both feet raised off the bed and slammed back down. My balls were really sensitive. So the Doctor determined I had balls, not bloody good enough! If he asked, “do you have balls?” I could have answered that question no problem at all. But if he asked “do you have testes?”, I would have said “What?” I had no idea what their real name was. Remember, sex education didn’t mention ANYTHING to do with boys!
The Doctor didn’t seem surprised, he had his back to me. Then he moved his hand further and in doing so moved me penis between his index finger and thumb and retracted my foreskin, which was interesting. I was pretty stiff by then, which I’d need to be in order to retract my foreskin one handed. Then once he had determined my foreskin would retract easily, which is what it’s supposed to do, and a Doctor is supposed to make sure it does retract, he then tried to push it back, but it wouldn’t go. There was an expansion problem, which was really embarrassing. (BTW, for XXY’s a standard test is to determine if they can have an erection and retracting the foreskin is the preferred method. Does that make you wonder what Doctors do to guys who don’t have a foreskin?) I could feel myself getting hotter and hotter, and then he stopped. He told me to do up my clothing and that was the end of my very first physical examination after the onset of puberty.
So that Doctor could have determined I had balls without examining me at all. So why did he do it that way, and not the proper way? He can’t have used the ’embarrassment’ excuse, (which in later years many Doctors have told me is the reason they don’t do proper physical examinations on teenage boys), as he touched my balls and fondled my penis! Is that ‘fondling’? Maybe that’s not the right word.
I expect my Mum being there had a lot to do with the Doctors decision. There was a curtain between my Mum and me and the Doctor, but not a very wide curtain, I just looked over my right shoulder and my Mum was sitting there, with that disapproving look she always had. I felt it, maybe the Doctor did too? If my Mum had sat in the first chair, she would have been looking at the curtain when I was being examined, but she sat in the third chair, nearest the Doctors desk and could see the door we came in by and the examination bed/table (whatever).
And it was kind of difficult for me just being there. I did have to ask my Mum not to bath me anymore, when it was obvious things were changing. I didn’t appreciate being hit by her when I got changed to get in the bath, for having an erection. If she wasn’t there she wouldn’t have seen it, and it wasn’t like I even touched myself, it just arrived, no thought at all. In fact I suspect if she didn’t hit me I would not have noticed it, nor have anything to recount now. Noticing obvious things is not one of my strong points. My Mum wasn’t exactly clued up to my needs.
So, if the Doctor had got me to take my trousers off, I would have been naked from the waist down in front of my Mum. I’m sure he thought he was doing me a favour, it just didn’t work out that way. By that time my Mum had seen me with an erection, seen me supposedly ‘playing’ with my penis. Surely a Doctor would have realised that sort of thing too? And if he did think being seen naked by my Mum would have been so embarrassing for me, why didn’t he just ask her to leave? Remember that Doctors, it’s your workplace, you control it.
And after the Doctor had finished I knew I had another associated problem, that was getting quite sore and uncomfortable, that I really needed to hide, whilst walking passed my Mum. Not easy, not at all, damnit! And as far as I was concerned I knew she was looking, even if she wasn’t. Trying to hide a bump in my pants, with a shirt only on was not going to work, so I quickly pulled my shirt out, having just tucked it in. I felt really stupid. I knew I would be in serious trouble if I put my hands anywhere near the problem area. I had been told off for that before, in front of everyone at home, so I was very keen on preserving my dignity. XXY guys are really sensitive people.
I’ve always wondered why it wasn’t my Dad who took my brother and me to the Doctor on that particular occasion. I think that would have been a much smarter thing to do. Mind you, I only ever saw my Dad naked once as a kid, so maybe it was my Dad who had some aversion to sex, now there’s a thought!
I bet there’s a record somewhere as to who that Doctor was, and I’d love to track him down, and give him a copy of this CD. It’s amazing the damage that can be done by not doing your job properly! And I am angry.
The next time I should have been discovered was at a physical examination the British Government arranges for ALL secondary school pupils. Can you guess what they are looking for? Do you need any more clues? However, I don’t recall any advance notice of this examination, but the entire school was examined, and of course every single boy there, EXCEPT ME! FUCKIT!!!!!
It was really weird. I had to go to school, I hated that. Then I had to wait with every other boy in my class, in a room adjacent to the Medical Office. I hated that too. They were so smelly, and aggressive, and just plain nasty. Yucky people!
Then my turn came and guess who was there as well as me. This is a someone I’ve met before, I know this person really well, my bloody mother! So, every part of me was examined, except my balls!
My mother was the only parent who went to the examinations, out of the whole fucking school! PISSES ME OFF!!
Later every other boy talked about how they had their balls squeezed, even my one and only true friend, Keith, said the same. I don’t know, the ‘gods’ were out to get me, bastard.
Then one day, my Mum took me to the Doctor, our G.P. I had a rash, well it looked like a rash to me. It was called Shingles, really really painful! It’s something to do with the nervous system, but I have no idea how. Anyway, I seemed to be fated to meet incompetent Doctors. He had me take my shirt off, and oh yeah, my Mum was there! And he said to me, “Is it down there too?”, and I said “Oh yes, it’s down there too!” He should have fucking looked! Do you suppose he didn’t as Mum was there, or was that what he did with all teenage boys? Who knows, but when you have a 15 year old, with a rash over his entire upper body, don’t you think it would be kind of sensible for his Mother to wait outside? I do! And do you think it would also be just as sensible for the Doctor to discover, first hand, the full extent of the problem? I sure as hell do!
I wanted to go on a holiday, on my own, without them, you know “them”! These people pissed me off all the time. Got in my way constantly. Beat me up whenever they felt like it.
I’m not sure if it was a Skiing holiday to Switzerland or the Cruise to the Baltic, they both sound so fantastic, from a New Zealand perspective, but when you’re so close to Europe, like England is, it’s possible to do a ‘day trip’ to most of Europe, and really cheaply. It’s like going to Picton for the day from Wellington.
Anyway I had to have a medical examination, again, before I could go, like everyone else. Would you like to guess who was there too? And would you like to guess what wasn’t examined? Well that was a real short account.
My teeth were a mess, not from decay but by being so big and badly spaced. I had a huge gap between my two front teeth. My parents decided to make full use of the British Health System and have those teeth realigned. I had quite a few X-Rays, and that Dentist would have seen Taurodontism. I could have been diagnosed at that time if there was some co-ordination between the Medical Profession and the Dental Profession. That might sound like a bit of a ‘long shot’, but my information from the Dental Profession specifically notes this anomaly is found in males with Klinefelter’s syndrome. So some of the Dentists know about it, shall we try and make ALL the Dentists know about it? That seems like a good idea to me.
And now you might have an idea as to why I didn’t want my bloody Mother to go with me to my appointments with John, or my Dad. I was supposed to be growing up, I wanted to do things without my parents. They’d been butting into my business for years, it was time to let go, but they just wouldn’t! If that quack I saw when I was 12 did his job properly, or if I got my way when I was 15, life could have been different.
Also, when I was 14 or 15, I was laying in bed one morning masturbating, teenage boys tend to do that. My Mum had already called me for school, but I was ‘busy’. Then she just came into my room and pulled all the bed-clothes off. My Mum did not have a clue when it came to privacy, or any other part of Parenting.
You can imagine my surprise. Yes. Well. Ahem! That was embarrassing. That wasn’t the only time she’d found me enjoying myself. So she had plenty of reasons to know what to expect I would look like if a Doctor wanted to examine me, but she never got the hint. As far as I’m concerned my mother was the primary reason I was not diagnosed earlier than I was. I was discovered at the very first medical I had when my mother was not present. Fascinating.
Now for those of you reading this, and thinking that is O.K. behaviour for a parent, this is the correct method – :
Teenagers know when they have to be at school, and what they have to do to get there. If you’ve called your teenager for school, or whatever method you use to get them out of bed, that is all you need to do.
If the teenager is late, the teenager will pay the consequences for their actions, or lack of actions.
That is proper parenting, letting your teenagers fail, be late, miss the bus, whatever. That is a helluvalot better than total humiliation.
However, if you happen to be a ‘control freak’, the only method you will use will be the one where you do all the work, your teenagers will never learn responsibility, and you will criticise them constantly. You will make a rod for your own back, and theirs also.
It is my personal belief that my Mum wanted to go with me to every medical appointment I had to shut me up. Of course that can’t be tested, but there had to be some reason why for very personal matters she just butted in constantly. I know things, I know lots of things that my parents would not want anyone else knowing about.
One time at the G.P. we had in Wainuiomata, I went there for something, dunno what, I said something that Mum didn’t like and she threatened to bash me round the head. And the Doctor went loopy at her. “You don’t hit children about the head” he said. He was really pissed off. Interesting that time, very interesting.
Oh and when I was 10ish my Mum tried to give me away. None of her brothers and sisters wanted me by the way, that was so gutting. And I was so much looking forward to have a nice home to live in. She threatend me with giving me away to try to stop me from telling lies…what a disaster.
So just to make sure she did give me away, I did nothing but tell her lies. That’s called “Oppositional Defiance Disorder” and it is learned behaviour. You see, when a Parent constantly criticises a child, and that’s all the interaction the child gets, the child picks up on it real fast, and does only those things that gets the child the attention he or she craves. And they crave it as that’s all that’s on offer.
Parenting is not something that can be done by way of being fertile, or copying what your parents did. You have to learn it just like every other skill. Neither of my parents learned how to parent. Neither has my brother, or his wife, or my sister or her husband. I’m one of the few people I know, who actively set out to learn how to parent, since there is NOTHING my parents did that was worth copying. They didn’t have a clue, and they didn’t think they needed one either. That is called ARROGANCE.