Hubby had the big V done today. You know. The make no babies kind of V. While feeling somewhat sympathetic to his entire situation, I must honestly say that all in all I found a wee bit of pleasure in seeing the discomfort he experienced. Not the physical pain, because that looked like it hurt, but more the pride side of the procedure. After 4 kids, I've tolerated a ton of embarrassment in the lady region. Lots of lookie loos. Lots of discussions whether or not I'm doing "OK" down there, lots of pushing, poking, and prodding. Similar to how one dresses a turkey on Thanksgiving. It was time he ponies up to the humiliation bar, and take a good swig of mortification!
Today, it was his turn to feel a bit exposed. Most notably the point in which the nurse put his man giblets in the cut out square of the sterile dressing, then shines a 200 watt spot light on them, as if preparing for a Broadway monologue. She then promptly left the room, I'm sure the hub thinks it's to go fetch the Dr., I want to think it's to laugh in private! How could someone not think that isn't just funny? Man laying on table with bobbles hanging out? That's comical! I know I couldn't control my laughter, just because of the visual. While waiting for the doctor to appear, I did ask if he was ready to give me a little giggly show. Such question was met with a bit of a dull dead-pan stare. I proceeded to a little rendition of I've got blue balls.
"I've got blue balls, I've got testis, I've got stitches, who could ask for anything more? Old Doc Muller, has my vaaaaaaaassss.." Same dead pan stare. OK, maybe not so funny then, but the fact that we can laugh about it is worth it's weight in sutures. I know he made little off color jokes when I was arse up in stirrups. Revenge is mine now buddy! I'll make all the dumb little jokes I can think of!
The thing that I found most amusing was the way the medical staff handled his privates, as if they were handling a ziplock of franks and beans. Very much mechanical in their approach. No regard for the patients sense of embarrassment his parts are just hanging out for all to see. In contrast, when you visit the lady doctor, they are careful to tell you about every movement they make. "OK Mrs Sterner, we are about to insert this probey thing into your bajingo and see if we can make your eyes bulge out of your head. Oh, and by the way, it may be a bit cold." Nope, not the Man doctor. Flip Flop, out goes the dong. No warning, no preparation that you are gonna be showing your wears. Not much different than flopping out the picture of your kids from your trifold wallet.
On the outside looking in, the fact that they can carry on a normal conversation while holding your privates in your hand is a real talent! "Well, Mr. Sterner, wasn't it Jaque Plante the first NHL hockey goalie to wear a full size mask?" "Why Yes Dr. Muller, I do believe you are right." Fondle Fondle Fondle. Ignore Ignore Ignore. How is it men can ignore the obvious by talking bout sports? What is it about the save percentage of a goalie, or the batting average of the lead off hitter of the 1959 Yankees that puts them at ease? HELLO, you have a strange man's johnson in your hands? What does statistics have to do with anything? As a woman, I'll never understand that. So I guess in my book, I'll take that as humor.
Being a scrapbooker by nature, I fought the urge to take numerous photographs. Some of course are just not appropriate. The shaving procedure by nurse Sharon, probably not an 8x10 glossy for the fridge. Dr. Muller kneeding your testes as if he was making sheepherders bread, not one for the scrapbook, or the image of Mr Happy making his debut. OK, maybe that could be one for my wallet. That said. I did take a few to commemorate the moment. Hubs curled toes as he's being injected with anesthetic. That's a sight all men need to see when they think birthing a child is a snap! Oh, and I will be taking pictures of the specimen bottle he gets to deposit the results of his next date night into! Have to make sure the little swimmers went on permanent vacation. Such memories will be documented for all future Sterner generations to see on one of my scrapbook pages. I'm actually inspired to work on this page. Nothing like a little medical procedure to help Mr. Mojo come back home
where he belongs!
All in all a good day. Future encounters without worry that another mini-me is in production, makes all Hubs discomfort worth it. Easy for me to say so right? To Hub's credit, he amazes me every day, with his sense of humor. He's always ready to use his wit to make things easier to tolerate, both for himself, and for me too. Today was no exception. I could see the trepidation on his face. Thoughts of what he could expect, fear that it would be painful. I'm sure a bit fearful that his man parts were about to be fondled by a couple of strangers. Amazingly, he still managed to find a way to laugh. That's a person with real brave character.
Well, I'm happy to report that Hub is at home as I type this. A fresh bag of baby peas on his "area", hyped up on Vicodin. Me, sitting in a cold ice arena reminiscing about the day. Good times I tell you.. good times. A day forever memorialized in my next scrapbook page.
Peace out you scrap dorks. May you find humor in your next procedure..