My dick doctor, my fertility assassin, has a funny last name. It’s a name that fits into the all-too-familiar category of witzes and steins and bergs – names that make abundantly clear to anyone paying attention that you are Jewish. At some point during my appointment yesterday, I decided that I would call my dick doctor Dr. Gardernburger.

These are the kinds of things a man thinks about during a visit to a urologist. Perhaps they are a defense mechanism – a way of distracting one’s terrified brain from the paralysis that could set in were he to pay complete attention to all this talk of scrotal incisions and burning vas and frozen vegetables. “Go to your happy place, Danny. Don’t think about Dr. Gardenburger’s man hands on your manly bits.”

When I arrived at Dr. G’s office, the Christina Aguilera wannabe behind the counter handed me a clipboard stuffed with forms. I controlled the nervous shaking in my hand long enough to answer all of those ridiculous questions about my health history and allergies to medication and who they should contact in the event that I totally fucking freak out on the operating table (my words, not theirs).

At the bottom of the stack was a Xeroxed form titled “VASECTOMY.” There was a picture of a dick and some balls, with little arrows pointing to various parts of the package. Some highlights from the form:

• “Bleeding into the scrotum is a serious complication, which can require surgery to correct.”

• “Keep an ice pack on your scrotum for 24 hours. Bags of frozen peas or corn are inexpensive and mold to the area well. DO NOT EAT THEM AFTER USING THEM FOR ICE PACKS.”

• “You will have swelling of your testicles, up to 50% bigger than normal. A SUDDEN, DRAMATIC CHANGE IN SIZE CAN BE A SIGN OF BLEEDING OR INFECTION.”

After I signed the forms, I was escorted to Exam Room #1 and left to sit there with the incredibly disturbing image of someone eating the frozen peas he’d used to control the swelling in his post-op junk. My temporary horror was interrupted by the entrance of Dr. Gardenburger, who reached out to shake my hand and left me further horrified that I had just shaken the hand of someone who touches sweaty balls and sticks his finger up hairy asses for a living and there’s just no amount of Purell hand sanitizer that can disinfect that.

“So, no more kids?” Dr. Gardenburger asks.

“No more kids,” I repeat back.

From there Dr. G went into a well-rehearsed shpeil about what will happen during my operation – something about hacking his way into my bag of tricks, snipping a little piece out of my vas deferens, taking a match to the ends and sewing me back up. He bragged that he had done over 700 of these procedures and that the whole thing should take no more than 10 minutes.

“Any questions?” he asked.

“Just one,” I said. “Can I keep the little pieces of vas you cut out? I was thinking of making them into a nice set of earrings for Hot Wife. You know, a little something that says ‘You complete me’ like no diamonds ever could.”

Blank stare. Urologists are such a humorless bunch.

With that, Dr. Gardenburger uttered the words that strike fear into the hearts of men everywhere: “Stand up. Let’s have a look.”

I stand up and drop trow. Dr. G snaps on a pair of rubber gloves and without so much as blowing on his hands to warm them up, he begins to fondle my shit as though he was looking for that one special penny at the bottom of a coin purse.

He finds what he’s looking for on the right side almost immediately. Awesome. Hurray for me. But he spends an inordinate amount of time squishing and maneuvering around on the left. After a good 20 seconds of fishing, I ask “What’s the matter, doc? D’ja lose your keys in there?”

“All men are different,” he says. “Sometimes the vas are right out in front, but sometimes their shy and you have to go get ‘em.”

He continues to fish. I’m getting nervous. I break the tension with a joke. “You know,” I say, “I generally don’t let people do this without taking me to dinner and a movie first.”

“Aha!” he says. “There it is. OK. You’re fine.”

Relief. I’m fine. My balls have passed the inspection and all systems are “go” for them to be put down like a dog with distemper. Oh, happy day.

Dr. G sends me back out to the reception area where Christina Aguilera checks her schedule and says she can squeeze me in during the first week of December. I ask for something sooner and as soon as the words leave my lips I get paranoid that if I’m too pushy or demanding here there’s good chance that Dr. G will pull the equivalent of a waiter spitting in the food of a rude customer’s grits, which in this case would be something like leaving a scalpel in my scrotum or accidentally forgetting to anesthetize me or sticking a tongue depressor up my ass.

“Actually,” I say, “December will be just fine.”

Comments

As I said to my 4 year old right before she got her chicken pox vaccine...

"you're being SO brave!!!"

Next time try bringing a Care Bear into the Dr.'s office with you... worked for Sarah ;)

GL

HAHAHA!! That cracks me up... after my husband had his "bag chopped" he asked me if I wanted the peas back or should we just throw them out. I was NOT about to have "ball-coolers" back in my freezer, contaminating all the virgin vegetables and meat. LOL

Hopefully Dr. G gives you a valium before the procedure... my husband was so relaxed that his little tubes were practically falling out of the incision. No digging required. :)

I can't possibly wait for December to read the next installment. This shit is better than Days of Our Lives.

Um, does anything...happen...when doctors do all that fondlin' down there and stuff? I mean, that would be the height of embarrassing, right?

I cannot be the only guy reading this -- make that "reading this with extreme horror" -- who now has a dry mouth and sweaty palms for the sake of DGM. It's too much. I can't even read to the punch line.

I agree with Linda...can't wait for December...

I saw this done to a dog once upon a time, want a really graphic description?? Ha ha, it's so much fun being a girl and watching boys get all squeamish over their squishy bits :) Oooh and I've heard that the liquid skin they spray on instead of suturing really REALLY stings. I feel so mean, but I like it.

The whole process sounds so excruciating. Not as excruciating, mind you, as pushing out an 7 pound object out of a 10 centimeter hole.

Are the nurses at least hot? You know that they will assist Dr. Twitchyburger as he chops vas? Maybe you could get some medical students to watch too!

I've had 6 babies, 5 naturally, I am trying, REALLY trying to feel the pain but somehow I just can't do it, there is a part of me ( quite a big part too if I am brave enough to admit it) that is just revelling in glove being snapped on the other hand! There are few women of child bearing age who don't get a cold sweat at the sound of the snapping glove, say the word stirrup and they'll want to run for the hills screaming. Ah for the man to be having the not so privates rooted around and pondered over. Marvellous. Good luck though!

How about a live webcam feed from the OR? I would pony up for that must see internet event. You could train the camera on your face (no one want to see your balls) and provide running commentary. This. Could. Be. Awesome!

'You complete me.' oh god, you're amazing.

I had it done 30 years ago - glad you waited until now or we wouldn't have these stories about Barney's fan. But hot wife will tell you it's about time!
They usually make you wait a while so that you have time to think about it, and be sure it's what you really want to do.

It's really no big deal, Travis did it and was back at work the next day.
Of course he really freaked out when he saw that we had peas for dinner...

Too much fun!! I can't wait for more!!!

Gross... can't even imagine even thinking about eating those peas!

did you get a sticker on the way out?

did you really get to stay dressed the whole time until until the actual exam? Sheeee-it! Women are usually popped into those lovely tiny paper gowns the second they get into the room, even if we're just there to ask questions.

I'm probably the only one who can wait until December for the next installment on this story. This is more info than *I* personally need about you, dear bro.

but, will you pretty please call your bro-in-law and discuss with him?

There is such a thing as too much information, especially for siblings and sibling-in-laws. You know I'll be right there for you making sure the peas are nice and frozen.

You know, for them to put that disclaimer on that form clearly is a clear indication that someone, sometime tried to eat the testi-peas. And that's just fucking sick.

You should ask him if there is some kind of freezer where you could keep your vas. You know, like in case one day you and hot wife decide that barney needs another fan. There's gotta be a way... kinda like cord blood and shit.

You know, DGM, if things don't work out as planned... there ARE alternatives. Clicky Clicky to find out more.

OMG. I am bookmarking this just in case I ever start considering getting snipped in a moment of drunken forgetfulness.

Hi Danny,
Now that I can breathe again after so much laughing,,,, how are you so damn funny and you do not have your own tv show?
I feel for you, I really do.

Scalpel in the scrotum. Hmm that might not be a bad idea. Might hit the hotwife's 'spot', you know like dicks that are bent in the middle or something.

You should have those earings just in time for the holidays. Is this the earliest you had your shopping done?

I can't stop squirming. I may never be able to stop squirming.

Gotta go...I'm having frozen peas and corn for lunch.

Hello DGM, I couldn't remember how I came across your blog but I spent almost 3 hours reading all of your previous entries! Great entertainment, and especially love those regarding your kids. They are super duper lovely marshmallow cuties! Hope to read more of their stories and see their piccies. And hi there to Hot Wife! Did I mention you now have a fan here all the way from Singapore?