The whole experience is not something I want to go through again anytime soon, but it was not something I could ignore either.
I'll probably be scarred for life in more ways than one though.
When the wife raced me to a private hospital a few weeks ago with stomach muscle pains, I didn't enjoy being poked and prodded like some huge marshmallow.
Then to be told I needed an operation was almost as much of a shock as the $275 bill for the 15 minute consultation. For a second there I thought I may need a pacemaker too.
They sent me to get an ultrasound, and I'm sure the technician took exceptional delight in coating my stomach with his icy cold gel, then playing with his little camera thingy (sorry for the techno speak) trying to get a photo of my insides.
He was much more excited about me getting an operation that I was.
After paying the $190 ultrasound bill for the 10 minute consultation, and being given some fuzzy photographs, I was sent off to see the surgeon.
A really nice old guy, very quiet but obviously full of experience.
As soon as I took off my shirt I heard 'Oh my goodness'...That wasn't a total surprise as I hear that all the time when I take my shirt off... mostly from the wife. He was referring to the bulging hernia, whereas my wife is usually referring to my 'mac' pack.
Anyway, there I am, laying on the examination table when the good doctor starts making small talk. Then, out of the blue he asked me 'How are Richard and the twins?'
Before I could say 'who?' he had ventured where no man has ever been before... he had a firm grip on my family jewels.... one in each hand.
It occurred to me very quickly how vulnerable a man can be in such a circumstance. I didn't panic though, and remained focussed on the question. Assuming he was referring to the time before I found them in a vice like grip, I said calmly 'fine'. I have no idea why the words came out several octaves higher though.
Then the doctor asked me to cough.
I considered explaining to the doctor that I didn't have a cold, so would probably find it difficult to give him a good rendition of a cough of any note. Then I realised that when the man has a family jewel in each hand, I was in no position to argue, so cough I did.
Unfortunately, finding myself in this predicament made me cough like a rooster on his deathbed. The doctor was not happy, so asked me to cough again, only harder.
My second attempt was much better and the doctor seemed pleased, although not as pleased as I was to have his grip released from my manhood.
Before I was permitted to get dressed, he asked me if I had any questions.
I was going to ask him if he had given any thought to warming his hands before he does an inspection of the 'twins' but thought better of it, so I said no.
The rest was a bit of a blur after that. Last thing I remember was being told when I was due in hospital, and that was it.
I raced home to get some sympathy from the wife. Very little was forthcoming.
When I explained about the cold gel and the ultrasound, I was met with.... "You should be a woman who is pregnant... your experience was nothing compared to what we go through." I struck out on that front.
So, I explained my experience with 'Richard and the twins' and I got a similar response. "Try being a women and visiting a gynaecologist some time"... I struck out on that front too.
Then I explained the operation and I was met with..." try being a women giving birth....."
Actually, the only one getting any sympathy from other women is my wife. Things like "you poor dear.. I remember when my sook of a husband blah blah .."
eww.. that looks nasty
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End of the day, I'm a male, I'll be stoic and I'll survive.... But I can't help feel a bit of sympathy from the female sector would make me feel a little bit better.