At age 10 or so I remember my pediatrician, a woman, giving me a physical. She was using consensual language as she checked different parts of my body, but I wasn’t really paying attention as she checked my vitals. Her touch was gentle and relaxing. When she checked my testicles. I jumped, my whole body jumped from the exam table. There was a conversation with my parents, and I was assigned a male doctor after that.
The next time I can remember a doctor handling my balls, I was in my 40’s and getting a vasectomy. I was ready. I was ready in terms of being ready to not produce any more children. I was also ready and prepped for surgery, balls shaved smooth the night before as instructed. I was wearing a gown like pregnant mothers wear in the delivery room. My surgeon had brought in a surgeon in training to observe, so I had to open my legs wide enough to accommodate both of them. It was a little like having two mechanics down there working. They gave me an injection of Lidocaine, but I could still feel their touch, so they gave me another. I learned that I have something called the redhead-gene that rejects some pain killers and can require another dose. I asked the doctor if it would be alright if I listened to music while they worked, and the doctor said yes, but he gave me a scornful look. I read into this like he either thought I was wimp or he thought I was missing out on experiencing something that was truly magical. I thought this because within my intake session, this same doctor informed me that he had performed the procedure on himself and filmed it. This is my first time getting surgery. It’s also the most tender part of my body, and the very thought of two mechanics working on my balls is unnerving. I might actually prefer that warm and kind pediatrician who was sensitive enough to recommend another doctor. As a man, I’m supposed to be tough (Surgery? Bring it!), but I think of all the ways culture and media has pointed out this one (and probably only) male vulnerability. I think of Paul Newman as Butch Cassidy winning a “knife fight” with a man twice his size by, almost effortlessly, kicking him in the balls. You could be the roughest, toughest and biggest but still double over in pain with a simple kick to the groin. That is the male narrative we’ve been fed our whole lives. It’s not surprising at all that this doctor wanted to conquer his own feelings of sensitivity by proving to himself that he could operate on his own balls. But for me, having my doctor boast to me about doing his own procedure, probably without Lidocaine, gave me feelings of masculine inadequacy (just like a kick in the balls). And also, no thank you.
So I’m listening to calming music, Just relaxing and trying not to think about the two mechanics or Paul Newman’s boot, and also holding my legs wide for the boys to do their work when I hear the doctor call out, “Shit!” I look down in panic. No eye contact, just fast focused working. Deep breath.
A few years before this, I was hiking with a friend who told me about how this rare thing happened to him where, weeks after his vasectomy, it still felt like he had been kicked in the balls. That’s what I was thinking about as the two men frantically worked to control the problem. The doctor was in an elevated state after this. He didn’t speak to me. He finished the procedure and stormed out of the room, either so angry with himself for making a mistake, or angry with me for having uncooperative balls. The surgeon in training bandaged me up, a big white wasp nest around my balls, and did his best to act cool. Not realizing how hard it would be to walk, I hobbled out of the room. The soreness lasted a couple weeks and then was completely gone.
I’m glad I did it. My sex life is great. I’m relieved there is no longer any concern in my relationship that there could ever be a pregnancy. While I do not endorse the poor bedside manner of this doctor, a part of me is grateful for the discomfort and awkwardness of the experience. I think it offered me a little window into what women must go through with their regular gynecological exams, and how invasive it must be for pregnant women especially to have so many doctors, nurses and ultrasound technicians up in their business. I would like to give all those tough guys in politics a Paul Newman style kick in the balls for working to take away women’s rights. And then I would like to tell them to remember where they came from.