Here is the article that appeared in Reader's Digest (source: http://www.arvindguptatoys.com/arvindgupta/joebody.pdf, pages 77-80)
I am Joe's left testis. Compared to other glands, I am not bad- looking at all: a glistening, pink-white oval. I weigh four grams and am four centimeters long, two centimeters at my greatest diameter. My function is dual: to manufacture those creators of life, the sperm cells; and to produce the hormone of maleness, testosterone. This chemical assists in construction of muscle, bone and other tissues. It helps shape Joe's mental attitudes as well as his body. But for it, Joe would be soft, flabby, beardless, apathetic.
I am a very complex piece of machinery. Few parts of Joe's body do so much of importance in so small a compass. I contain a Thousand tubes, each of than 30 or 60 centimeters long-roughly half a kilometer of them, all as fine as the finest sewing silk. These, in turn, empty into a large collecting tube, six meters long. h is in this duct system that I manufacture 50 million sperm cells a day. This means that every two months I produce cells that have the potential of populating the entire earth.
Of this vast number, only three have played out their roles--they created Joe's three children. Why such an extravagant excess? It is a dim reminder of life's origin in the seas. Some fish simply spray sperm into the water on the off chance that a drifting egg will be come fertilized.
In addition to my duct system, contain millions of Leydig cells. These are the producers of my testosterone. Curiously, this manhood chemical is also found in women. Joe's wife has about 1/20 his amount circulating in her blood; produced by her adrenal glands. Without it she might be frigid. With too much she would likely be masculinised.
When Joe was in his mother's womb, my partner and I were inside his body. Two months before birth, we descended to our present position through a little opening called the inguinal canal. Later, this can be a danger spot for hernia, if the canal does not completely close off after the testes have descended. Had we failed to descend, Joe would have been sterile--and for a very interesting reason. Joe's normal body temperature is 98.6F. At that level I cannot produce viable sperm. I must be held at a temperature three degrees lower than the rest of his body.
To achieve this, I have an elaborate air-conditioning system. The sac, which holds me, is rich with sweat glands, which cool by evaporation of moisture. Also, as Joe has noted, in a Turkish bath I drop down. In an effort to keep me cool, the cord that suspends me has lengthened. In a cold shower it shortens, pulling me close to the body for warmth.
Anything that interferes with this temperature control influences my sperm production. If Joe were to move to the tropics, it would fall; in the Arctic it would rise, since cold stimulates me. Joe once had pneumonia and ran a fever for a week. He did not know it, but I ceased sperm production, and he became temporarily sterile. The sperm cells I produce are extraordinary. They are the smallest cells in the body (in contest, the female egg is the largest), and look something like minute tadpoles. The flailing tails are for locomotion only; the important part is the head, the neater of life. You get an idea of its size when you note that 1200 of them would be needed to cover the period at the end of this sentence.
My sperm cells have many striking attributes. All other cells in Joe's body contain 46 chromosomes; my sperm cells contain only 23. The normal allotment will be reached when the female egg contributes its 23. My sperm contains both the boy-producing Y-chromosomes and the girl-producing Xs; Joe's wife produces only Xs. So the determination of whether a girl or a boy will be produced rests with me alone. In addition, the thousands of genes that each sperm cell carries decide which of his characteristics Joe passes along to his children.
Flailing furiously, sperm cells are able to swim 18 centimeters an hour. Considering their size, this is a journey of epic proportions. A rough equivalent would be a 60-kilometer run by Joe. Their prospects of piercing the relatively enormous and tough-skinned egg would be just about nil if it were not for an enzyme with which I equip them. This enzyme dissolves away enough egg coating to permit entrance and fertilization.
Unless released regularly to the outside, millions of sperm will die of old age, h released too frequently millions will not have had time to fully mature; they will be incapable of producing life. If frequency is excessive--say twice a day for ten days almost total depletion takes place. My manufacturing facilities cannot keep up with such demands. It will take me weeks to get things back to normal.
It would have been helpful had Joe known this when he and his wife decided to have their first child. When months passed and there was no pregnancy, they began to worry. They thought increased frequency might be the cure. Periods of abstinence would have been better.
In a single emission, Joe will release almost fanciful numbers of the cells I have produced--up to 600 million. Even so, the bulk of this huge number is still minute. Most of the fluid -- about a teaspoonful -- is produced by Joe's prostate and seminal vesicles. The function of this fluid is to dilute my sperm and provide nourishment and energy for movement. It contains sugar, protein, and minerals.
Until Joe was 14 years old, I was relatively quiescent. In a sense, I was drowsing in the wings, waiting for my cue to go on. The cue from the pituitary gland, up under Joe's brain. How it decided that the time had come for Joe the boy to become Joe the man, I do not know. In any case, it stirred me into a fury of activity. One of the stimulating pituitary hormones started my tubules to producing sperm; another set my Leydig cells to pouring out hormone. This hormone – testosterone - is, in the main, a growth stimulant. Joe's parents despairingly noted that new pants seemed to hang above his ankles in a matter of weeks. In one year he shot up 12 centimeters. Baby fat became hard muscle. Joe's voice deepened. His facial fuzz was replaced by beard. Even fat glands in the skin felt the stimulus of my hormone: they became overactive, and Joe got that misery called acne.
If Joe's body was undergoing a metamorphosis, so was his personality. His emotional reactions were becoming adult. There were fewer temper tantrums; there was mole confidence, greater reserve.
My hormone plays a role in sex, but not a total role. Without it, Joe would have no interest whatever. But even when it is present in normal quantities, the mind seems to play the dominant part. In adult life, the main impact of my hormone is on emotions. If I were to cease production, Joe would become irritable, fretful and deep less. Memory would begin to fail, and he might feel the hot flashes that women often have at menopause.
I produced maximum amounts of hormone when Joe was in the 25 to 35 age group. He is 47 now, and I am tapering off. When he is 60, I will be at pre-puberty levels. His energy and drive will lessen, but it will be time for that. I will still produce enough testosterone for basic body needs-to keep beard growing, and such.
If Joe reaches 90, I will still be producing sperm-but usually not in sufficient quantity to inaugurate pregnancy. Would hormone supplement assist me as Joe gets older--restore his youth? Unfortunately, things don't seem to work that way.
Can Joe do anything to assure my continued good health? Not a lot, really, except to keep generally fit. As with other organs, I welcome the stimulus of good health. I raised Joe into manhood, and I hope to contribute at least some of the chemicals essential to a comfortable and spirited old age.