TIFU by using an electric trimmer on...myself

Not quite a today, but a few weeks ago, I fucked up by attempting to "trim the hedges" with an electric hair trimmer.

It seemed innocuous at first. Doing some general bush-trimming [EDIT: with a guard in place on the trimmer], trying to stay presentable, when I decided to expand the realm of where I wanted to tidy up. I'm sure at this point, you can see where this story is going. I think at this point, I should add some additional clarity. I possess male genitalia...because that part is about to become incredibly relevant. So, I turn the trimmer to start cleaning up my balls. I was incredibly attentive here for obvious reasons. The loose skin seemed to be begging for me to somehow nick myself.

I didn't.

Until I did.

I now noticed some hair on my dick. Not a problem. I just trimmed my balls fine. It was a problem. I began trimming the underside, and my attention waned, or I wasn't able to see what exactly I was doing, I'm honestly not sure, because the next five minutes are a damn blur.

After one or two passes, I felt it. Something had gotten caught, or cut, or something. I was 100% not aware. It didn't hurt all that much, thankfully, but I knew something had happened and I didn't want to know what. It is at this point I knew just how much I fucked up. I lift myself and take a look at the damage. Expecting maybe a papercut, or a standard razor nick. What I was greeted with was a two centimeter (just shy of 1" for my American friends) laceration to the skin running from my scrotum to my penis. And it was deep. I had essentially torn myself completely open. If I had so chosen to be an even bigger idiot, I could have absolutely explored the wound manually. Thankfully, I still had some wits about me. Not all of them, but some.

At this point, I start rationalizing with myself. Maybe the bleeding will stop. Maybe it will heal fine on its own (even though I knew damn well this needed stitches). I grabbed some gauze and some topical cleaner with an anesthetic, saturated the gauze, and immediately placed it onto my wound. And then I sat. Slowly, my rational brain came back, and I knew I needed some professional medical care. So, I loaded myself into the car, and drove to an urgent care in town...where I was told it would be at least two hours before I saw anyone, and once I informed them of what had happened, they suggested that I head straight to the ER, because even if they could see me, I'd wind up getting referred there in the end regardless. Back to the car, and down the street to the local emergency department.

After going through intake, I find myself a seat and wait. And wait. And wait. At least it felt that way. In all reality, of all the folks in that waiting room, I probably got some of the quickest care, and certainly much quicker than I was expecting, and far quicker than the two hours promised at the urgent care. I get called into triage, at which point I tell the nurse and physician's assistant what I had done. The PA asks if I took a photo of the wound. I had not (should I have? who the hell knows). At this point, they take me back and do a wound check. The bleeding I thought was under control...was not. There is now more blood of mine than I'd like there to be on the floor of this curtain area, and I'm very ready to get this resolved. I get moved to a room and sat up on the bed. After a short while, the PA comes back with a nurse and scribe, and describes what joyous fun we're about to experience. Together. All four of us. I'm not overly shy, but I think this was the most people who had seen my junk at one instant since I was born. And I'm just hanging out. Literally. So we go through the standard wound care fun. Betadine (possibly the least pleasant part of the next half hour of my life), followed by local anesthetic injections (okay, this was the least pleasant part, and possibly hurt more than the mechanism for injury), and then five sutures to my dick and sac. All while cracking jokes about my predicament with the staff. Because if you can't have some humor about it, it's just going to suck more. So now, here I am, almost four weeks later. Telling the story to strangers.

Lesson learned: shave it, wax it, trim it with scissors, but for the love of all things holy, keep hair clippers far, far away from the recreation area.

TL;DR - I spaced out trimming my pubic hair, cut my dick, and had to get five stitches to close the wound. 0/10, would not recommend the experience.