Vast Deference

I got the “procedure” today, as I described to Lily – something about not wanting to have kids again, put gingerly.

“You and Charlotte are plenty, honey.”

The doctor was matter-of-fact, swift, and at times, downright gruff in the way he handled me. It was as if he carried displeasure about his job at the core of it, and the potential “gay” quality of having to handle men’s scrotums and shafts all day, for a living. He offset the gay part by compensating with what felt like unnecessary gruffness in the way he handled me, especially with the tape.

He said, “you okay?” and I nodded, it was over.

“You’re not sterile until two negative specimens six weeks after 12 ejaculations. No sex today. Frozen corn, frozen vegetables on the groin. Every half hour, half-on, half-off. Keep your hands on your groin and your head down until the nurse comes in.”

About pinklightsabre

Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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