The venue was an antiquated general hospital on the northern
shores of the Welsh coastline. The
building looked like a prefabricated relic from the post war era from the early
days of the NHS. I was ushered by a
matronly looking, stern but caring type of middle aged nurse, into a side room. Her uniform, and the authority it
represented, may have excited some men … but not me.
The room itself was painted in two shades of clinical
green. It contained a desk, an
examination table, and various medical paraphernalia, including a stethoscope,
a wound trolley, and x-ray viewing cabinet.
“Lie on there”, said Sister in a matter of fact sort of way,
“and use this to collect the sample”, handing me a small jar on which had been
written my name and hospital number.
With her instructions ringing in my ears, the ‘privacy
curtain’ was pulled around me. Sister
apologised for not having any porn, and she was gone.
Like a ‘good patient’, I tried to ‘produce’ my sample. Although a little embarrassed, I tried to be
‘grown up’ about the procedure. These
were professionals after all, and had asked many men to perform the same
manoeuvre.
‘The sample’, of course, was of sperm … and it necessitated,
as a precondition of its production, an erection.
I tried, as best conditions would allow, to make myself
comfortable. I took off my shoes,
dropped my jeans to my ankles, and lay on my back with a heavy sense of
duty.
I closed my eyes and withdrew into the deep recesses of my
mind, you know, where the ‘really dirty’ fantasies reside … the ones that only
come out when the need to cum outweighs the need masturbate in a morally responsible
way.
Nothing happened … in fact the longer it took … the more
difficult it became.
I wondered what NHS porn, should it have been available,
would have looked like. I came to the conclusion
it probably wouldn’t have been of any help.
Any porn, so I reasoned, pre-screened and approved by Sister, wasn’t
going to hit the spot.
I reflected that a more male friendly ‘masturbatory suite’
should have been pre-planned by managers for just these eventualities, and
wondered what such a suite might contain.
A comfortable ‘bed’ was a must, as was subdued lighting, a DVD player of
course, and perhaps solicitous décor.
Such thoughts, though pleasant, only served to impede my
progress through my usual routine, and frustrated my ability to meet Sisters’
request.
As time moved on, I imagined the nurses talking amongst themselves,
wondering why I was taking so long.
Perhaps it was the end of their shift, and they were waiting for me
before going home. The pressure was
intense.
It was only when I was at the point of giving up that
‘things’ managed to stir in the right direction. Seizing my opportunity, I
indulged with vigour - finally able to let inhibition retreat sufficiently to
let necessity in. I produced ‘my sample’.
Somewhat embarrassed by the three quarters of an hour I had
been cocooned in this medico-sexual nightmare, I handed my sample to Sister with
a sense of pride tapered with relief.
The ordeal was over.
“No” she said to my horror “you don’t give it to me, you
have to take it to the lab”.
“The lab!” I exclaimed.
And so it was I was despatched to hand deliver the sample
“as quickly as possible” to the counting facility for their attention.
I left the hospital feeling bruised and battered. In producing ‘on command’, the very thing
that defined me as a man, I had been emasculated by the process.
Perhaps because my memory of that day is etched indelibly
into my consciousness, I read with considerable interest of the efforts of Loes
Segerink and colleagues at the MESA
and the Institute for Nanotechnology at the University
of Twente in the Netherlands. They have produced a 10 centimetre long ‘lab
on a chip’ that, in principle, means that sperm counting could be done at home.
What a great idea!
In fact the technology is so ‘portable’, it may be possible
to deliver it as an ‘off the shelf’ test similar to women’s pregnancy testing
kits.
Of course there are ‘ethical’ issues about making such tests
available to men without a medical consultation. Given my experience, if any medical ethicists
are reading this, you need to seriously consider the ethical benefits of the
home test, against the reality of its alternative. Trust me, it’s not pretty!
Dr Phil Tyson is a Men's Psychotherapist based in Manchester in the
UK. He offers:
Dr Tyson is also regularly quoted in the printed media and as a guest on local and national broadcast media.
