We had only just met and yet here I was.
On my back, my nuts in another mans hands.
It actually wasn’t too uncomfortable until he asked me how my father was.
“So, how is your dad?”
Dude, you have my nuts in your hand, your are squeezing them. I want to keep this clinical. Detached. Unknown.
I do not want to be having a discussion with you about my father while my courting tackle lies vulnerable in your hands.
It just feels wrong.
“Ja, cool thanks………”
After the physical we had a quick chat about what having the snip would mean and when he seemed certain that I was sure about going ahead he booked me in.
“Come back next week”
All my mates used words like “painless” and “quick local” and “in and out”
Walk in the park. Breeze.
The next week, after a good bath, douche and generally thorough scrotum scrub (it’s a professional courtesy, like brushing your teeth before a dentists visit, or washing your hair before getting a haircut), I headed off to Constantiaberg Medi-Clinic.
It was a bit of a production line. You check in, Do a bit of paperwork. Get shown to a changing cubicle and get given a locker for your clothes, and then you change into one of those shitty, psychologically scarring hospital gowns.
No jocks. Hanging loose.
Made worse in that you keep your shoes on.
So you end up looking like a complete doos.
You know it. The nurses know it.
That was all okay, no big deal, but then you go through to the waiting room.
There are half a dozen of you waiting in a line.
All dressed like dooses. All looking sheepish.
Except.
Except some a-holes bring their wives and mothers along.
What the shitsake is with that?
Now I have to wait, semi naked, my nuts barely hidden by a very high hospital gown, and opposite me, someones wife is reading a magazine because he needed his hand held.
It was like waiting for your drivers licence eye test.
As someone leaves, you all shift up a seat.
The okes at the back and in the middle are a laugh a minute.
The jokes are flying thick and fast.
“I’m just going to hold the Doc’s nuts in my hand while he does the op, and say: you don’t hurt me, I won’t hurt you”
Good one man. Chuckle chuckle. Chortle chortle.
But as the okes made it to the front of the queue they got more and more quiet.
And the okes right in the front have got that look you get just before you bungee jump.
The look that says. “I’m sure its safe. Lots of okes have done this before.”
No worries.
Right?
And then its your turn.
A wheelchair. Shitsake, no.
“Sorry sir. Hospital regulations.”
You arrive rather cowed in the operating room where two cheerful nurses are there to greet you.
“Ah, howzit.”
You sense your charm will have no effect here.
On the bed, on your back, staring at the ceiling.
Your gown is lifted, the disposable razors are out. The two of them are chatting about mundane daily things while they lather and shave your nuts.
You feel a bit left out. You pretend you don’t care and stare up at the ceiling.
All this will pass.
And then while this is happening, the door opens and in walks nurse number three.
Hello! We are actually busy here. A knock would be nice!
She smiles a greeting at me and then starts having a loud conversation with the other two nurses. My two nurses. While they are shaving my nuts.
No kidding.
For shitsake. This isn’t a frigging porno shoot.
And the door!
For shitsake the door!
Ag no man! She left the door open to the passage.
I can actually see an orderly walk past.
I lie there, sensitive and vulnerable, having my nuts shaved by a pair of nurses, while another nurse is having a visit and a chat, all down at the business end.
As she leaves the doc arrives.
Professionalism personified.
There were two painful bits.
The first was eye watering and felt like he was pushing the needle to give me a local anaesthetic deep into each nut.
It felt like what I imagine someone closing your nut in a vice would feel like.
Sore. Aching.
My knees jerked up into the air.
He calmly put his hand on my knee and pushed them down again.
The second was when he started the actual op. It was a bit soon for my liking and stung.
“Lets slow down” I suggested.
He did. A bit. Down tools, chat for two minutes, then back into the fray.
Then it was plain sailing, Easy peasy.
Finished the op. Got changed. Stayed for the prerequisite cup of tea and a sarmie. And then off straight back to work.
Hero.
A couple of days of dull pain was all that was left afterwards.
And walking up the stairs like John Wayne for a week.
And the scars of the indignity.
So go for it okes.
It is a piece of piss. A walk in the park. You could do it in your sleep.
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