My ED story (UK)

[siltmonkey]

This is quite out of character for me, writing about myself, but for some reason I wanted to put down my journey so far. This forum is very open and honest which is a blessing. If anyone gets anything from my posts that's fantastic. If not, no loss. I'll update it over the weeks when I can. It's been a few weeks already so some posts will come quickly. Feel free to reply and ask any questions, but please avoid saying anything along the lines of, 'You shouldn't have done this or that, that surgeon is no good, your recovery should be x amount of time, you're doomed because you didn't... etc.' I'm on a one-way street, I can't go back and I'm still mentally fragile. 'Shoulda woulda coulda' will crush me all over again. Thanks for your understanding.

So here is my frank and highly personal account so far. I ask for no pity, only compassion. This could be quite cathartic.

Part 1 - Background

I am a 40-something man and have had ED forever.

I always thought it was normal to be 'rubbish'. I assumed anyone who got and kept erections easily was a lucky freak of nature.
I am tall, decent-looking enough and, I guess, funny enough that girls didn't run off immediately when they saw me. It didn't really help.

On the rare occasions I got involved with a girl, I had to vigorously masturbate to get an erection and would then rush to shove it in so it wouldn't disappear, and I learned to hold myself on the edge of ejaculation to prolong the erection.
I couldn't use condoms - even if it was out of the packet ready, by the time I put it on I had lost my erection. I had another condom in my pocket, unopened, all the time I was at university.

There were very rare occasions when I would stay hard, after which I would need to pee. I thought I'd spotted a pattern, so would sometimes drink a lot beforehand to see if it worked. Occasionally it did. Does bladder pressing have any effect? I still don't know and it didn't work very often. Although it may have had something to do with what I discovered later.

What I also thought was normal, and what really hurts, was the constant fear of failure. That crushing, chest-tightening anxiety when you are with someone you like and really really want to have sex but you know it probably won't work.

However many times someone says, 'Penetration isn't the only sexual thing,' it makes no difference when you yet again gamble your happiness for another 6/7 months on whether your penis is going to stay up longer than a toddler's attention span. You're a sexual failure. Yes, I got good at oral and massage and everything else but at some point you want to really 'join' with that person and you can't. I remember on two occasions someone was interested in me (go me!) and we'd kiss. But both times, I pretended I was too drunk to do anything and then pretended to fall asleep to avoid the shame of not being able to do what seemingly every other guy could do.

At some point in my mid twenties, I gave up. I just thought that sex was not something I was supposed to do. I was a Darwinian dead-end. Oh I wanted sex. I think I have a very high sex drive (always thinking about it and always wanting it). But i couldn't do it. So I 'quit'. I stopped trying to meet girls, which was always awkward anyway. I did my own things, started different hobbies and resigned myself to a life of singledom and masturbation. There were some very dark days.

This is not a sob story, by the way.

Around the age of 26, a girl actually asked me out. She was very pretty, fun and seemed interested. I wasn't sure. Here we go again. What excuse shall I make after we've kissed for a few minutes? Shall I do oral for half an hour just so I can hide me masturbating to some form of hardness?

For some strange reason she didn't notice (it turns out she did) and kept coming back for more. I still had the same problems but, and this is how strange the world is, I ended up marrying her. I even have two children. Sure, a lot of the time I felt that sex was desperate and like trying to get the toothpaste back into the tube, but at least I wasn't on my own. I'm still with her. In many ways I feel monstrously and unworthily lucky. I guess some women are looking for stability/someone funny/someone tall/someone decent-looking enough to not have ugly children/someone safe that they are happy to overlook terrible penile performance.

But of course, eventually what sex we had became less regular. Rushed. Failed. Pep talks: 'You're just tired.' 'It doesn't matter.' But this is a woman who chose to spend her life with me who is making excuses for me. That hurts. I want to make her world move. I want to take her to the moon and back. And yes, I want to feel less of a failure. I asked my wife to be honest about it. She finally said that she knew I had a problem but that is was ok. She liked the rest of me and that made up for it. Other guys she had been with were not like me. They had erections that lasted as long as they wanted.

So I finally started reading about ED. I went to the doctor and got the pills. Different types. A couple of times they worked. It was a revelation. So THAT'S what my dick is supposed to do. My wife enjoyed it. Different positions. Rushing but then realising I didn't have to. Wow. But then the pills stopped working. I was given injections but they gave my a stinging rash. Therapy was a joke.

So after about 5 years (Covid got in the way), I was given the final option - an implant.

I had actually read about a guy in my country who had had one and it had changed his life. I started fantasising. Could I turn into a sexual tyrannosaur? Would it change my life?

I started reading more about them but realised it's a large rabbit hole to fall down - promises, pitfalls and lost hours finding the final forum post that would give the answer. It turns out there is no answer. Only suggestions, hunches, some expertise and a lot of luck.

So I finally met with a consultant surgeon who explained about implants, how they are end-stage (no going back because they take out the erectile tissue). I went away and thought about it. I played with the pump device. I asked my wife. She, predictably, said, 'If it will make you happier then yes.'

More meetings, more months of over-thinking, worrying and a useless dick that didn't stay up. So I finally said yes. I played more with the device, the surgery was explained thoroughly and I took probably the biggest plunge of my life. I could have said no. I could have continued the desultory, derisory 'performance' and feeling awful every time. But I chose to gamble. I am shooting for the moon. I feel a bit brave. I could be doing something really stupid. But I'm not getting younger. Do I want to get to 70 and say, 'I wish I'd tried that.'? No. So here goes.

[LetoMan]

Welcome, brother! Congrats on taking the first steps.

Here, your story is something we all understand. I’m a lot like you, life-long ED, a huge gap in my otherwise confident persona. I was also married with kids, though am now divorced and got the implant simultaneous to splitting up.

Getting an implant will likely be an emotional journey for you. It certainly has been for me. I’m coming up on two years since I decided to go for it, and in many ways I am vastly changed.

But nonetheless I still look into the vast abyss of human alienation and suffering, of aging and regret, and the inexorable march towards my demise. Only now I do it with a hard dick.

Haha. Here’s hoping everything goes smoothly for you, and you are putting your new equipment to use soon.

Be well, Leto

[GoodWood]

Welcome to FrankTalk! I hope you find the support, answers, and community here you need. I certainly have. I wouldn’t have found the solution that works for me without it.

Thanks for such a detail introduction. I’m sure lots of other guy identify both the details and the feelings behind them.

We are all here for you.

[SWorks17]

Welcome to the brotherhood Siltmonkey!

I'm glad that you've taken the hard steps to get your ED fixed. I didn't have the same ED experience you've had all your life, but ED will really get you down when it comes on.

My ED started slowly in my late 50's and I used pills that worked pretty good but the late 50's, I'd have to watch what I ate or it would cancel any type of erection using the pills. It was so frustrating trying to time taking a pill and wondering if my wife would be in the mood for sex. Then in my early 60's I had the Boston Scientific rezum procedure done for my enlarged prostrate and it wiped out any erections, nothing would work. I guess the procedure damaged some nerves down there. I had already been talking to my military urologist about a permanent fix with the penile implant, so I pulled the trigger at 63. I skipped the injections because I didn't want to stick my dick.
It's been 4 years now with my bionic dick and even though it was a journey at the beginning after surgery, the last three and a half years have been great.

I'm rooting for you Siltmonkey!

It's gonna be awesome when you can give your wife your hard dick that will last and last and last, satisfying you and your wife.

We're here for you Siltmonkey,
Your Bionic Brother in Texas
SWorks

[HappyFeet]

This is quite out of character for me, writing about myself, but for some reason I wanted to put down my journey so far. This forum is very open and honest which is a blessing. If anyone gets anything from my posts that's fantastic. If not, no loss. I'll update it over the weeks when I can. It's been a few weeks already so some posts will come quickly. Feel free to reply and ask any questions, but please avoid saying anything along the lines of, 'You shouldn't have done this or that, that surgeon is no good, your recovery should be x amount of time, you're doomed because you didn't... etc.' I'm on a one-way street, I can't go back and I'm still mentally fragile. 'Shoulda woulda coulda' will crush me all over again. Thanks for your understanding.

So here is my frank and highly personal account so far. I ask for no pity, only compassion. This could be quite cathartic.

Part 1 - Background

I am a 40-something man and have had ED forever.

I always thought it was normal to be 'rubbish'. I assumed anyone who got and kept erections easily was a lucky freak of nature.
I am tall, decent-looking enough and, I guess, funny enough that girls didn't run off immediately when they saw me. It didn't really help.

On the rare occasions I got involved with a girl, I had to vigorously masturbate to get an erection and would then rush to shove it in so it wouldn't disappear, and I learned to hold myself on the edge of ejaculation to prolong the erection.
I couldn't use condoms - even if it was out of the packet ready, by the time I put it on I had lost my erection. I had another condom in my pocket, unopened, all the time I was at university.

There were very rare occasions when I would stay hard, after which I would need to pee. I thought I'd spotted a pattern, so would sometimes drink a lot beforehand to see if it worked. Occasionally it did. Does bladder pressing have any effect? I still don't know and it didn't work very often. Although it may have had something to do with what I discovered later.

What I also thought was normal, and what really hurts, was the constant fear of failure. That crushing, chest-tightening anxiety when you are with someone you like and really really want to have sex but you know it probably won't work.

However many times someone says, 'Penetration isn't the only sexual thing,' it makes no difference when you yet again gamble your happiness for another 6/7 months on whether your penis is going to stay up longer than a toddler's attention span. You're a sexual failure. Yes, I got good at oral and massage and everything else but at some point you want to really 'join' with that person and you can't. I remember on two occasions someone was interested in me (go me!) and we'd kiss. But both times, I pretended I was too drunk to do anything and then pretended to fall asleep to avoid the shame of not being able to do what seemingly every other guy could do.

At some point in my mid twenties, I gave up. I just thought that sex was not something I was supposed to do. I was a Darwinian dead-end. Oh I wanted sex. I think I have a very high sex drive (always thinking about it and always wanting it). But i couldn't do it. So I 'quit'. I stopped trying to meet girls, which was always awkward anyway. I did my own things, started different hobbies and resigned myself to a life of singledom and masturbation. There were some very dark days.

This is not a sob story, by the way.

Around the age of 26, a girl actually asked me out. She was very pretty, fun and seemed interested. I wasn't sure. Here we go again. What excuse shall I make after we've kissed for a few minutes? Shall I do oral for half an hour just so I can hide me masturbating to some form of hardness?

For some strange reason she didn't notice (it turns out she did) and kept coming back for more. I still had the same problems but, and this is how strange the world is, I ended up marrying her. I even have two children. Sure, a lot of the time I felt that sex was desperate and like trying to get the toothpaste back into the tube, but at least I wasn't on my own. I'm still with her. In many ways I feel monstrously and unworthily lucky. I guess some women are looking for stability/someone funny/someone tall/someone decent-looking enough to not have ugly children/someone safe that they are happy to overlook terrible penile performance.

But of course, eventually what sex we had became less regular. Rushed. Failed. Pep talks: 'You're just tired.' 'It doesn't matter.' But this is a woman who chose to spend her life with me who is making excuses for me. That hurts. I want to make her world move. I want to take her to the moon and back. And yes, I want to feel less of a failure. I asked my wife to be honest about it. She finally said that she knew I had a problem but that is was ok. She liked the rest of me and that made up for it. Other guys she had been with were not like me. They had erections that lasted as long as they wanted.

So I finally started reading about ED. I went to the doctor and got the pills. Different types. A couple of times they worked. It was a revelation. So THAT'S what my dick is supposed to do. My wife enjoyed it. Different positions. Rushing but then realising I didn't have to. Wow. But then the pills stopped working. I was given injections but they gave my a stinging rash. Therapy was a joke.

So after about 5 years (Covid got in the way), I was given the final option - an implant.

I had actually read about a guy in my country who had had one and it had changed his life. I started fantasising. Could I turn into a sexual tyrannosaur? Would it change my life?

I started reading more about them but realised it's a large rabbit hole to fall down - promises, pitfalls and lost hours finding the final forum post that would give the answer. It turns out there is no answer. Only suggestions, hunches, some expertise and a lot of luck.

So I finally met with a consultant surgeon who explained about implants, how they are end-stage (no going back because they take out the erectile tissue). I went away and thought about it. I played with the pump device. I asked my wife. She, predictably, said, 'If it will make you happier then yes.'

More meetings, more months of over-thinking, worrying and a useless dick that didn't stay up. So I finally said yes. I played more with the device, the surgery was explained thoroughly and I took probably the biggest plunge of my life. I could have said no. I could have continued the desultory, derisory 'performance' and feeling awful every time. But I chose to gamble. I am shooting for the moon. I feel a bit brave. I could be doing something really stupid. But I'm not getting younger. Do I want to get to 70 and say, 'I wish I'd tried that.'? No. So here goes.

Have you ever done Doppler test?
What is the primary reason of you ed?

I am 35 now, and when I was 23-24 I have basically chosen an alternative route to yours - gave up on sex and relationships, lying to myself that I am ok, that it will get better etc. Of course, it never did. But at least since last two years, I faced the reality and I am trying to tackle my ED with pills, meanwhile thinking about further treatments like injections or an implant.

[Mark1974]

[quote="siltmonkey"] I could be doing something really stupid. /quote]

Listen to this voice

[siltmonkey]

Part 2 -

Thanks for the comments so far. God bless this forum.

In the UK we have private health care but we also have the National Health Service. You can get implants privately but they also do them free through the NHS. I don't have thousands of pounds/dollars to spend on travelling and staying in another country for the singular 'world expert' on these things. Some of us have to use what is available. But I found out my consultant surgeon does a lot of implants, which I think is a good sign. They are a urology specialist. It is also the NHS. Whatever you may have heard about our health service, my experiences over the years have been overwhelmingly positive - professionalism, care and positive human interaction. People who look you in the eye and tell you what might go wrong. People who explain clearly what they will do and why. People who give a shit.

Fast forward to November this year (2025) and I find myself in hospital. I've arrived at 7:30, ready for surgery sometime today. Within five minutes I've been checked for details, blood pressure and put my few belongings in a bag, sealed and labelled in a locker. After about another 5 minutes I have another check, presumably to check the first check is correct. That’s an encouraging sign – thoroughness. After about 10 minutes, if that, I’m called into the small room to meet my surgeon and anaesthetist. Is this really the same health service that people moan about having 3 year queues? They go through the whole procedure, what to expect and why. I’m obviously nervous because they spend time chatting, answering my questions without rushing and generally being wonderfully approachable. They again reassure that yes they do this a lot and although I won’t gain length (I didn’t care) they will ensure I get the largest possible implant (I didn’t even ask) without pushing the glans out, which would be detrimental. They also say they make incisions in the least intrusive way to avoid as much damage as possible. I sign the forms. This is getting real. I can still back out and be completely human. But no. That’s defeat. I refuse to be that twenty-something quitter. I’m still aiming for the moon.

Back to the waiting room and after only another 10 minutes perhaps I’m called to the bed area where I lie down and get wheeled into the anaesthetic room. Not been in one of these for decades. Again, I’m stunned by how good the NHS is. Every conceivable ‘machine that goes ping’ is here. Everything is spotless. The staff are relaxed, friendly and efficient. I genuinely feel I couldn’t be in better hands. And this is all taxpayer funded. Sometimes I love being British.

Waking up in the post-op ward is disorienting but as soon as I open my eyes and turn my head there’s a nurse smiling and asking how I am and checking everything. I wish I could shower these people with money. Anyway, I pull off the sheet to see the damage – it’s erect, bandaged up and with a catheter. There’s also a drain valve to a little container. This will be my life for the next two days. I have to remind myself that this is actually a privilege, a huge privilege. A huge number of people in the world have no access to decent health care.

I’m then wheeled to the recovery ward. Everyone else is old. I’m the youngest by at least two decades. My bag of belongings is on the chair next to me and I get out my phone and let my wife know I’m awake and not to bother coming in yet. I get regular pain meds – paracetamol, codeine and some weak form of morphine. Months ago I talked to a guy who had the same procedure and he said that the pain in the first week was like nothing he had imagined, that he seriously thought he’d done the stupidest thing ever. So I expected it, which helped a lot. Meal orders come, although I really don’t want to go to the loo while holding a catheter bag so I just have soup. Nurses come and go cleaning, checking my bladder with an ultrasound, chatting. The surgeon and anaesthetist arrive. They have a detailed look, exchange genuine smiles and say that everything went extremely well. The consultant said that the cylinders went in perfectly, the shape is excellent, there’s no twisting and no signs of infection. They told me that they went for slightly larger cylinders for maximum size, but they feel everything and they say there is no issue with the larger cylinders pushing dangerously anywhere. It makes having to pee through a tube a little more acceptable.

I had only wo hours sleep that night due to the pain. But I knew it would be painful. I am mentally prepared. This is a long process. It’s not resetting a dislocated shoulder.

The next day passes in a blur of phone games, TV, watching my catheter bag get changed and having large numbers of surgeons, anaesthetists, students and nurses prod, push and check my penis. The consultant checks again and says they are really happy with it. They look me in the eye when they say that. I can usually tell when someone is lying and they’re not lying. Phew.
The bandages have now come off and the catheter and drain removed (worse pain than ever) so I can go to the loo. Go meaning walk like I’m astride an imaginary horse and pee using a kung fu 'horse stance'. As long as my bladder is not distended they will discharge me. It takes several hours to get an emptier bladder but eventually they say I can go, the surgeon and anaesthetist have one more check and just like Elvis I can leave the building. I have come to realise that in a hospital 'dignity' has a different meaning. It means being treated well by people who care. It doesn't matter that half the staff have seen my bandaged, scabby erect penis. My wife picks me up. That woman deserves for this to work more than I do.

[siltmonkey]

Have you ever done Doppler test?
What is the primary reason of you ed?

I am 35 now, and when I was 23-24 I have basically chosen an alternative route to yours - gave up on sex and relationships, lying to myself that I am ok, that it will get better etc. Of course, it never did. But at least since last two years, I faced the reality and I am trying to tackle my ED with pills, meanwhile thinking about further treatments like injections or an implant.[/quote]



It turns out that I had a leaking vein, shown by doppler tests. That was why other treatments didn't work. It could have been caused by a testicular torsion I had sorted when I was 10. But I try not to look back and complain. I don't want to spend the next however many years moaning about something I can do nothing about.