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“You have to have a vasectomy! I don’t want more children. And I can’t take the pill as you know. And we can’t keep using those awful condoms. And the surgical procedure is easier for men than for women. You have to have a vasectomy.”

“Oh. Ooer.” I said. I was unprepared for such a vehement assault. I felt that I had been out-manouevered and out-gunned before the battle lines had even been drawn!

“Oh…okay. I’ll go see my doctor tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” My doctor asked. “you’re only 36, and you’re not married or anything. You may change your mind in the future …when it’s too late.”

“No, I’ve been instructed that I have to have it done.” I said.

“Alright.” My doctor was unconvinced. “I’ll refer you to a specialist.”

The Specialist in MacQuarie Street said: “Are you sure? You’re only 36 and you’re not married or anything. You may change your mind in the future…when it’s too late.”

“No, I’ve been instructed that I have to have it done.” I said.

“Okay…well when I do it, I make sure there is no possibility of it returning. It will mean that you have to spend a week in my private hospital in the Eastern Suburbs…but you can be sure that the job has well and truly been done!”

“Oh.” I had visions of my puny private parts being exposed to brutality and privation. Tears sprang to my eyes at the prospect.Vas1

I went home that night and explained what was required.

“That doesn’t seem right! A week in a private hospital! That’s ridiculous! Go and ring the Family Planning Centre in Redfern!”

So I did.

The phone was answered by what sounded like this huge lesbian.

“Yes? What do you want?” She recognised immediately that I was part of the opposition.

I explained carefully my predicament… “The Specialist…a week in hospital…My lady didn’t think it seemed right…”

“For God’s sake! You men!” She exploded. “You’re such wimps!”vas2

“But…but..” I tried to advance my innocence. Thankfully she was at the other end of the phone and not in my presence because I quickly gathered that she would be delighted to do the job herself…preferably with a rusty jam tin lid…if she could get hold of me.vas8

“What is the name of this ‘Specialist’?!”

Anyway after a long period of self-castigation she finally said:

“Phone this number…and stop your whining!”

So I went home to the house I shared in Mosman with other rejects from the life of normality. And after a while I remembered that Maggie was a theatre sister in a big hospital. Maggie was my neighbour in the room next door in the shared house. She readily agreed to come with me to check out the address of the suspect Personal Parts Fragmentation clinic.

We arrived at the address IN THE MIDDLE OF KINGS CROSS!vas5 The centre of the bawdy after-dark life! WORSE! the address we had was a dark stairwellvas4 next door to THE PINK PUSSYCAT night club!vas3

I couldn’t believe that I was going to trust my …erm… future to this dark stairwell. But Maggie pushed me forward. (It was about then that I started to wonder whether I was a victim of THE SISTERHOOD.)

“Look stop wimpering! You go up to the reception and distract them and I will duck into the surgery to check it out.” Maggie said.

So at the top of the stairs I stepped out into a brightly lit foyer, and saw at the other end a glamorous blonde receptionist.vas6 I marched up to her and bravely announced myself, as I noticed out of the corner of my eye, Maggie sneaking away.

After a short time both the receptionist and I saw Maggie re-appear and give me the thumbs up.

So I registerd my interest in having a ..um…a …you.know…

A week later it all happened with unseemly speed…with the surgeon saying “You should have no trouble just give it a week of…you know… and you’ll be fine. However if you ever want it reversed I have left it suitable.”vas7

It’s worked ever since.

 

 

 

 

 

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