This was exactly the case with Jack, a thirty-two-year-old advertising executive whose bike accident dramatically altered his life. Riding his high-tech twenty-one-speed mountain bike in one of the many regional races he entered throughout the year, he hit a patch of gravel and started to go down. Yanking his foot from the pedal in an attempt to break his fall, he lost his balance. The next thing he was aware of was the most excruciating pain he had ever experienced—his genitals had sfammed into the bike’s center bar. Lying on the ground crumpled in the fetal position, he knew something bad had happened to him.
An hour later Jack saw blood in his urine and, still in agony, called his doctor, who suggested a urological examination. At the doctor’s office, Jack had a complete work-up. The urologist’s diagnosis was somewhat reassuring. He stated that there was no need for immediate concern, but it was still important for Jack to monitor both his urinary flow and erectile function to determine any residual damage. His urine remained clear but, two weeks later, when his fiancee came back from a business trip, he discovered the full extent of his injury, both physical and psychological.
For the eighteen months they had been together, Jack and Christina had reveled in their sexual prowess. It was a big turn-on for them both, the bond that brought and kept them together. However, on Christina’s first night back something happened. Or, rather, didn’t happen. For the first time in his life Jack couldn’t perform. Stunned, he couldn’t believe it. Neither could Christina, who, missing him for two weeks and in the mood for a prolonged sexual encounter, was both disappointed and suspicious. Becoming angry, she accused him of seeing another woman in her absence. Jack told her, as calmly as he could, what had happened to him but she didn’t believe a fall could hurt him that badly.
“You’ve fallen off that bike before—and this never happened!” she pointed out angrily. Then, calming down somewhat, she suggested that they visit another urologist together. Unfortunately, the news they heard only contributed to the downward spiral of their relationship. The new urologist informed them that the type of bicycle accident Jack had sustained often causes mild to moderate erection difficulties, and it could take some time for full healing to take place—if it did at all. But the doctor had a recommendation: he proposed that Jack begin injecting himself with tri-mix. Then he went one step further, stating that if Jack’s condition deteriorated over time, he should consider getting a penile implant.
Five months before their wedding, this news shocked them. They decided to postpone the ceremony to give them time to adjust to what would be, in both their eyes, a lifetime of artificial sex. But the adjustment never took place. Six weeks later Christina returned his ring and Jack was left alone with his problem.
Determined to prove his virility, Jack decided to use the tri-mix injections. Not wanting any woman to be aware of what he was doing, his challenge was to master the needle. Then, not satisfied with the one-hour erection the drugs gave him, he began to experiment with the dosages on his own. Figuring out a way to give himself a two-hour erection was, to him, a triumph. While demonstrating his sexual stamina fueled his badly eroded self-esteem, soothed his battered ego, and even appealed to his competitive nature, the most intimate bond he had was with his frequent injection. Ultimately, his erection—not his feelings for a woman—was the most important aspect ol any sexual encounter be had.
After two years of boasting how his sexual skills were all-conquering, Jack began to feel ashamed of himself. Looking inward, he knew that he was offering women little of who he was; all that he was willing to give them was a super-hard erection. And on the flip side, what were women contributing if all their encounters were centered around how long intercourse lasted?
Realizing it was time for professional help, Jack sought out a psychotherapist who advised him to regroup, both physically and emotionally. Telling him that it would be in his best interest to cease all sexual activity for a while, the doctor said that Jack had to acknowledge the change in his erectile capabilities. In essence, he needed to take the time to mourn his loss, something he had not allowed himself to do.
Additionally, the therapist suggested that he date women with the clear understanding that sex was a boundary that was not to be crossed. This would give him time to understand that there were women who were interested in the whole person who was Jack. Over time, he began to heal and date again. He found that he was having spontaneous morning erections. When the therapist felt that he was ready, she referred Jack—and his girlfriend Gayle—to me to become part of the Vasomax trials. Interestingly, Jack wanted to first experience the effects of the medication by himself.
Observing himself respond naturally to erotic stimulation and feeling himself become hard as he masturbated was incredible to him. Then ejaculating and watching his penis retract—just as it had before the accident—made him realize two very important things. One, of course, was that for all practical purposes, he could resume a normal sex life once again. The other was that after all the emotional suffering he had endured, he now understood the value of having someone he cared about, someone with whom he could spend time and know intimately. This would make him happier than he ever thought he could be. And dually, he realized who had been missing from his sexual encounters of the past few years himself.
With these insights, Jack was able to move forward with his psychotherapy and in his relationship with Gayle. This time, with the medication, sex was a natural outgrowth of bonding. Needless to say, it was satisfying, physically and emotionally, for both of them.
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