Cutting for Stone - Abraham Verghese [156]
I walked with Tsige to the gate. There she turned to me, her eyes full of pain. We held each other's gaze for what seemed like a long time. She bowed, then carried her bundle away. I felt so sad for her. Her baby's suffering had ended, but hers had just begun.
DR. COOPER ARRIVED promptly at eight that evening in an embassy staff car, just as the patient, a Polish gentlemen, pulled up in his Kombi.
Ghosh had learned the technique of vasectomy as an intern, and he'd learned directly from Jhaver in India, whom he spoke of as “the maestro of male nut clipping who is personally responsible for millions of people not being here.” The operation was a novelty in Ethiopia, and now expatriate men, particularly Catholics, came to Ghosh in increasing numbers for an operation that was uncommon or unavailable in their countries.
“I have a proposition for you Dr. Cooper. I shall teach you the vasectomy, and once you are proficient, you can pay me back by doing a vasectomy on a VIP patient.”
“Do I know him?” Cooper asked.
“You are talking to him,” Ghosh said. “So you see I have a vested interest in seeing you are superbly trained. My assistant, Marion, will help me judge your skills. Marion, not a word to Hema—you either, Cooper—about my plans, please.”
Cooper had a stiff brush cut and overlapping square teeth that looked like Chiclets. His American accent was sharp, jarring to the ear, but offset by the way he drawled out his words, by his relaxed, affable manner, as if he'd never had an unpleasant moment in his life and did not expect to.
“See one, do one, teach one. Raaaiyt, old buddy?” Cooper said.
“Indeed, yes,” Ghosh said. “It is easy to do, but harder than it looks. Some preliminaries, Dr. Cooper. I tell the patient to use an enema the night before, because nothing makes them more tense than being constipated. Warm milk and honey mixed together and put into an enema bag held shoulder high is what I recommend.”
“Does it work?”
“Does it work? Let me put it this way: if the patient happens to be drinking a whiskey and soda, it'll suck the glass right out of his hand.”
“Gotcha,” said Cooper.
“I also ask the patient to take a warm bath beforehand. It relaxes him.” He added sotto voce, “And it improves my olfactory experience, you know?”
The patient hadn't said a word thus far. He was, Ghosh had told me, a consultant to the Economic Commission for Africa, an expert on population control who happened to be the father of five girls. He didn't mind all the attention.
“We can't finish if we don't start, so we better start, yes? Marion, the heater please?” I'd already turned on the electric heater under the table. “Here is the first caveat. If you don't want the scrotum to shrivel up, and the balls to retract to the armpit, the room has to be really warm. Now, the second caveat is relaxation. Very important. A barbiturate or narcotic might help. I recommend an ounce of Johnny Walker Red or Black. I'm not particular. A wonderful relaxant. And yes, you might give one to the patient, too.”
Cooper's laugh rolled leisurely out of his mouth, like the great banks of clouds that spilled over the Entoto Mountains.
I hoped Cooper was paying attention. I'd seen it before: when the patient's private parts were first exposed, even when the room was warm, the scrotal skin—the dartos muscle—would wrinkle and shrink, and the cremaster muscle would tug the testis up. Then, after a good swallow of whiskey (by the patient), which was served only at this point and not before, the sac unfurled.
Both surgeons were gloved, and Ghosh cleaned the area thoroughly and then draped sterile towels to frame the field. “Another tip, Dr. Cooper. Even though it's a simple operation, mustn't allow any bleeding. Do you know what a brinjal looks like, Dr. Cooper?”
“I don't believe I do, no sir,” Cooper said.
“Aubergine? … Melanzana?…Eggplant?”
Cooper recognized the last word.
“Well, if you don't meticulously control bleeding, you'll have an eggplant. Or two. And you know what we call that complication, Cooper. We call it the bloody-brinjal-and-bugger-all.