United in Pain!

Fule for Thought

 

I think there are ways for all cultures to come together and put aside their differences. There must be certain things we all hold in common, things that we can all agree on. 

The one thing that comes to mind for me, unites all males everywhere.  

That, my friends is the dreaded ‘groin shot’ that all males at one time or another have had. I’m sure that even in the deepest jungles of South America, there has been a male member of a forgotten tribe, who’s taken a stray blow gun dart below the belt.  

I’m also sure that these little tribesmen probably fall over each other laughing, BEFORE he eventually pulls out the dart! 

I’ve seen labour and although I have never experienced its pain, I think all men would agree that a well placed hit to us may actually be a lot like the pain of childbirth. 

Sure, our pain doesn’t necessarily last as long, but measuring a groin hit, scores very high on the ‘Richter Scale’ of pain. Allow me to illustrate.

Many years ago, I took one of my PE classes to the golf course. It started out as a beautiful day, with great promise. Little did I know … that particular day, we were working on hitting the ‘full swing’ with irons.  

The class was in a long line, with piles of golf balls. I was patrolling behind the line, offering encouragement and what few tips I had. One girl was having a very difficult time making contact with the ball: each swing would totally miss, and she was getting very frustrated. I should have realized that behind her, I was in ‘the kill zone.’

She finally got very angry, and began to swing her club forward and back, yelling, “I can’t hit this stupid ball!”  

On the word ‘ball’ (how appropriate!), she hit it beautifully … hard … a ‘screamer’ of a hit … backward!  

It hit me ‘below the belt’ so hard, that it dropped me like a sack of potatoes. I’d never felt pain like that before … I wanted to cry … I may actually have. The pain was tremendous … I ached and lay crumpled like a rag doll, as my class encircled me.  

Not one bothered to ask if I was okay … some raised their voices like ‘tenors’ to mimic me. They even put the accident on the afternoon announcements to “ask Mr. Fule, how he got his high voice!”  

Anyway, I’ve learned to stand more carefully, sideways … but I still have a nervous “tic”!