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