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| Lorena Bobbitt |
A STITCH IN TIME
It arrived in a Ziploc bag, inside a brown paper lunch sack.
"It was an intact penis, very cleanly cut," recalls Jim Sehn, the urological surgeon. "It was not crushed. It was not visibly soiled."
He had feared the worst. Gravel. Dirt. Run over by car. Chewed by animal. Instead he was amazed by the excellent condition of the organ.
Even so he found the situation extremely disturbing. He could not help but react both as a skilled urologist and as a man -- the doctor compelled to act, to proceed in an orderly fashion, washing the member with Hibiclens surgical scrub and then submerging it in a stainless steel bowl of saline ice, even as the man is wincing, squeamishly handling the ghastly object, a human organ that he had touched countless times but never while detached.
