The doctor gives my scrotum a firm tug, stretching the skin flat. “This is where I would punch the hole,” he explains. I wince, and he says, “I can assure you, it doesn’t hurt at all.” From there, he explains, it’s a simple process to extract and sever my vas deferens, the tiny tubes that carry my seed. Just to be safe, he’ll cauterize the cut ends before tying them back together, burning my baby-making apparatus into oblivion.
I’m in the office of Dr. Robert Nejat, getting a final...
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