Twin Balls Doctoring

I promise I won’t get graphic.

But this is a story about balls. Or, specifically, the Balls Doctor.

Or, really, the Balls Doctors.

Yes that’s right, plural, because these Balls Doctors happen to be twins.

Technically one might call them urologists (and I’m sure they call themselves the same) but Balls Doctors is what every man crowding the waiting room is thinking to themselves.

Seems Balls Doctoring is a thing, especially early in the morning.

No no, don’t be silly, of course none of us are speaking to each other. We’re at the Balls Doctor and this is a no speaking situation.

(Eye contact is also seriously out of the question.)

Anyway, back to the Twin Balls Doctors.

I imagine you, like me, are probably wondering how this pair of Twin Balls Doctors came to be. Undoubtedly they were smart in school, showing aptitude in the sciences and biology. They found interest in similar pursuits, and so jointly decided medicine was their calling. Then (I’m imagining here, remember), sometime in medical school, one twin looked up from their textbook and said to the other:

“Hey, I’ve been thinking about what area of medicine interests me, and I’d like to…”

And the other — twin-like — naturally finished the sentence.

“…study balls.”

And then they high-fived each other, or something like that.

Ned and Brian happen to be excellent identical Twin Balls Doctors, let that be known. The best around, actually. And while they are identical, they each have their own personality and bedside manner.

Ned (I think) is a cheerful sort and humorous. He manages intakes and evaluations; he’s at ease and makes conversation as if you’re just two guys grabbing coffee. He makes all the awkward particulars seem like no big deal; he’ll show you pictures, explaining the magic of the male anatomy. Then — once you’re good and comfortable — he’ll stand you up and say, “OK, now drop trow,” before beginning his inspection.

On the other hand, Brian (I think…or maybe it’s Ned) is direct and analytical. He’s laser-focused on the work to be done. He’ll more acknowledge your presence than seek your engagement. He grunts at times, not rudely, just matter-of-factly, like when he asked if I could feel anything after numbing me for a vasectomy, and I said, “just the lovely touch of your hand,” a smart-ass joke to lighten the tension, me thinking it was Ned when it was actually Brian.

So, yeah, that’s why he grunted.

In the waiting room, before you can see Ned (or maybe Brian), they make you pee in a cup.

No no, c’mon, they don’t make you pee in the waiting room itself; there’s a bathroom down the hall. There you get to pee in a cup privately — which is all well and good until you have to walk your pee cup back awkwardly down the longest hall ever, as passerbys study you and your cup and probably wonder why your urine appears to have been harvested from a blueberry reduction.

Before any Ball Doctor — and especially twin ones — it’s best you drink water all morning, glass after glass, so that you are able to will yourself to pee when they ask you to pee into a cup.

When you do pee (privately, down the hall), you’ll feel a sense of pride, as if to say, yeah, this is all working out just great. Meantime, back in the waiting room, an eighty-year-old man is yelling to no one in particular that he tried four times but can’t seem to pee, the thing doesn’t work the way it used to, as if explaining why an outdoor faucet is rusted.

Little did I know that the Ball Doctor offers more services beyond Ball Doctoring — this I became aware of when I hear the snap of a latex glove and Ned breaks out the lube. He then says, “It’s your lucky day,” because, remember, he’s the funny one and what’s a bit of humor before being violated.

Which is all well and good because if it were Brian (the serious twin) offering the same service, it would be delivered without so much as a wink or a smile. I suspect he’d give me a mirror so he could stare me straight in the eyes. He might even grunt a little.

Anyhoo, if you are in disbelief that these Twin Balls Doctors exist, I need only point you to the David Cronenberg movie, Dead Ringers, in which Jeremy Irons plays identical twins Beverly and Elliot Mantle, brilliant gynecologists who live and work together.

It’s not for me to give away the plot, but rather this is a reminder that fiction is often the foundation for truth — regardless of which anatomical parts you are most practiced in.

To sum up, this is all to say a trip to the Balls Doctor is nothing to be worried about. Men of all ages, shapes, and sizes visit, and it’s not like they put your balls in a vise or anything, so you might as well be going to the elbow doctor or seeing an earlobe specialist.

Anyway, here’s your cup.

The bathroom is just down the extremely long hall.

And once you’ve filled it, let’s raise your wonderfully colored urine to Ned and Brian, the Twin Balls Doctors, who are both ready to see you now.