You Might Feel A Slight Prick - A Scalpel-less Vasectomy
When my third child came along it was decided I would go to Dr. Choppemoff’s clinic for a scalpel-less vasectomy. Thus began an ordeal I call the Enlarged Scrotum Syndrome.
As I imagined it would be, the whole process was demeaning. When I first met the dick doc, he rolled his chair over to me, and without looking up said, “Drop your pants.”
While he examined my goods I summoned the courage to look down. Yikes, something was missing. No not missing, my goalie decided to play Mr. Turtle and hide himself away.
I tried to relax, and was determined to make this doctor laugh. So I said, “I bet you do this to all the boys?” This guy was as cold as his hands, and didn’t even smile.
The next appointment was the actual surgery itself, performed in a room in the doctor’s office. Beforehand, I was to shave the scrotum and apply topical Novocain to freeze the skin. The doctor would freeze it further with a needle, make a 1/4 inch puncture, pull the vas deferens out, snip, cauterize, and done. It should take 15 minutes.
As I lay on the table wearing just my shirt and socks, he draped a green blanket with a two-inch square hole over my groin. Although nervous, I was resolute to at least make this guy smile. When he came toward me with a hypodermic needle I put up one hand and said, “Uh doctor? You might feel a slight prick.” Nothing — not even a smirk — what a stiff.
The surgery took about 25 minutes. Afterward, Dr. Choppemoff reluctantly admitted he encountered a little difficulty, but assured me that the smoke from my groin was a normal part of cauterizing. He told me to put on my pants, and help myself to a cookie and some juice. (While, I’m sure he slipped out for a cigarette.)
Everything went fine for two years, until last month when I felt some irritation with the family jewels. That, together with a swollen scrotum the size of a grapefruit, compelled me to see my family physician. He recommended a specialist.
While waiting in an examination room at the urologist’s office, a big man well over six feet tall walked in, looked down at me, and I gulped hard.
“Okay my friend,” he said. “I have big hands and love my job. You know the drill.”
I dropped my britches and gritted my teeth. Dr. Big-Hands put on gloves, but not the latex kind. He put on flimsy plastic gloves, like they wear at the sandwich shop. He checked out my testicles looking for raisin size lumps. None were found and he said, “Turn your head and cough.” All the while, the sandwich gloves sounded like squirrels romping through fall leaves. My teeth were not the only things clenched. He slapped my bum and told me to relax. (yeah sure.)
He explained to me about Bacterial Prostatitus, and how it would be treated with expensive antibiotics for six weeks. He assured me not to worry; only one in a thousand patients react to the drugs with diarrhea, nausea and headaches.
So, after two days of headaches and nausea, I returned to work.
I am now at the end of the antibiotic regimen, and my gonads have returned their normal spunky self. My Sphincter has once again returned to normal duty. The doctor said I am at no greater risk for prostate cancer than he is.
I had to ask, “Are you at risk for prostate cancer?” He answered ‘no’, and I’m so happy for both of us.
Harry Ehrentraut has been speech writer and public speaker for many years.
