Doodly Doo and other Surgery - German Style

Once I was born and my parents had departed from Berlin for Neue Muehle they, in their indisputable wisdom, decided to have me circumcised.

Not quite as many people were present when I was done

The procedure was going to be performed by the local GP (doctor), who was by then about two hundred years old and rather tottery. It was a miracle in itself that the village had a doctor. Doctors were needed at the front and got killed along with every other soldier at a great rate of knots. Our local chap was, due to his age, exempt from war duty.
Circumcision involves the removal (cutting off) of the foreskin, usually performed on very young baby boys. The good doctor did the dirty deed in his surgery, assisted by his nurse that was probably not far behind him in age, and my dad as the person holding me down while the doc did his butchery.
Lucky for me I can't remember a thing about the procedure, which is just as well.
I grew up in blissful ignorance, all pain and suffering forgotten. However, problems did develop when I was about nine or ten. But more about that a bit later.

My next encounter with the medical profession, apart from a smallpox vaccination performed by the school nurse in a production line environment, was when the two women I had to live with (my mum and my sister) complained about my breathing and persistent snoring. I have no idea why, especially mum couldn't complain on that subject since she was the greatest snorer known to mankind. But complain they did and carted me of to a doctor in Koenigs Wusterhausen. The doctor in Neue Muehle had, by then, taking his departure from this earth.
For a more scientific explanation why adenoids are removed refer to the picture on the right. Especially enlightening is the last sentence: "Most patients can go home a few hours after surgery"!
Well, what happened was that the good doctor decreed that the breathing and snoring problems would be solved by the removal of the adenoids. A rather simple procedure that he would perform in his surgery. My two tyrants did not consult me on the matter, they made the appointment and that was it!

Very precise anaesthetic device

On the appointed day Gisela had the day off (mum couldn't get time off work for such a minor thing) since it was school holidays. She came and stayed with us the night before and together we walked the three kilometres to the doctors surgery. Gisela was told to take a seat in the waiting room and I was led into the surgery by the 'nurse' - a rather large German Brunhilda with massive arms, an ample bosom and a backside to match. As was customary in those days the good doctor hardly acknowledged me. He simply told nurse Brunhilda to place me on her lap. Her massive arms gripped me in a vice-like embrace and my head was held rather steady by her ample breasts. The doc produced a strange looking gauze mask that Brunhilda place over my nose and mouth - see right.
The doc then proceeded to drip ether direct from a bottle onto the gauze. The stuff smelt absolutely evil and nearly caused me to gag and throw up at the same time. Doc kept dripping till I passed out. He then, presumably, did his evil business. Sometime later I woke up cradled in Gisela's arms in an anteroom to the surgery. Brunhilda came in, checked me over and declared: 'He's ready to go home. Any problems developing tomorrow just bring him back in". That was it! We walked the three kilometres back home, me somewhat unsteady, and I was put to bed.
Being of 'perpetually' hungry disposition I was starving to death by then, not having eaten all day due to the iminent anaesthetic. Gisela made me very nice mashed potatoes, with real butter in them. Where on earth she got real butter remains a mystery to me till this day.
The next day was not what one would call crash hot. The anaesthetic had worn off and the pain was 'excruciating'. But, I got over it thanks to some TLC from Gisela and everything was fine after that, except that neither my snoring nor my breathing improved! To this day I am being accused, by my wife, children and grandchildren, of being a very loud and persistent snorer - not that I would know!

Don't try this at home - get a professional!

Back to the circumcision problem. By about age eleven I noticed that my foreskin was growing back in a rather large weld around the penis head. It progressively got more painfull and peeing became somewhat of a problem. On the right is a diagram explaining what circumcision is all about.
Once we effected our 'escape' to West Berlin (see previous blog) mum took me to a 'foreskin specialist'. He took one look at the 'problem' and declared that another circumcision was in order to correct the botched first one. I was booked into a small private hospital, thanks to mum working for Siemens again by that time. Siemens then provided its employees with a rather generous supplementary private health cover.
I had to go, on the appointed day, by myself to the hospital since mum couldn't afford the time off. I was given strict instructions not to drink, eat or fornicate after 8 PM the night before. I arrived at the hospital at 8 AM and was operated on at 11 AM. Guess what happened next?
At about 6 PM my mum and sister arrived at my bedside. I was in a four-bed ward with three rather ancient gentlemen. The women marched in, said hi and promptly proceeded to remove the bedcover to inspect my doodle. It was a horrific sight - all bandaged up, swollen and red. Of course they had to poke around, turn it this way and that and go: "OOh, Aah, shocking" and so on. To say it was embarassing is a vast understatement.
I stayed in hospital for about five days. My main mission was to go for a pee! With all that wadding it just wouldn't come. By day three one of the nurses took me to the male toilet and stayed with me to supervise me peeing. When nothing happened the nurse turned on every tap in the bathroom and toilet. Guess what, once the waterworks started out of the taps so did mine!!
When I left the hospital the nurses gave me a very nice greeting card. It had a big Lion on the front and they had written in it that I was a very nice and brave patient.
I asked the duty nurse why they had selected the lion, her reply: "Because when you came out of the anaesthetic you roared out 'I'm a lion, I'm a lion', so we thought it is very appropriate".