They're Too What?

One Man Shares His Reaction to a Diagnosis of Varicoceles

By Mark Stackpole

"The testicles are obviously undersized," said the doctor after the most cursory of glances and a quick squeeze.

A bashful grin and a dose of humility helped me with the awkwardness of having my pants around my knees while another grown man took account of the equipment. Puffing out my chest and throwing back my shoulders kept my stride manly despite the fear siphoning off my masculinity. The casual joke, already spoken too loudly and too often, became even louder and more frequent. A real man laughs in the face of danger. He walks tall. He grins and he bears it. But a "real man" would never be told that his testicles were too small.

"Uh, OK," I replied, the grin in place but the joke failing me. I could feel my shoulders fall and my gut twitch with the delivery of a fierce body blow. How could that be? I wondered. They always seemed a good size to me. How big were they supposed to be? No one had ever complained. I hadn't spent a lot of time examining the luggage of other men – was I missing out?

And despite all of the questions that arose in my head, what really mattered was the single answer that came forth. I finally knew why, after three years of trying, why my wife and I had been unsuccessful in our attempts to conceive. In a way, it was a relief to know that there was a reason. So many couples struggle for reasons that they never learn. I, at least, had a diagnosis. One that kicked me right in the ... well, I had a diagnosis, anyway. Beggars can't be choosers, I guess.

"Varicoceles," the doctor said, more like Sgt. Joe Friday than Dr. Mark Green. "Varicose veins causing a disruption in blood flow and heating everything up. You've had them since birth, nothing you could have done. No. 1 cause of male infertility. We can do a varicocelectomy; tie them off. Check the count in six months. Schedule it out front if you want to have it done."

Not much bedside manner, but this was a straight-shooting doctor. A man's doctor, literally and figuratively. I didn't want him to put his arm around me while I cried about my condition. I didn't want him to hug me and tell me that everything was going to be OK. I have a wife for that. He laid it on the line, told me what was wrong, what to do about it and then left the room. Alone with my small testicles and shrinking sense of manhood, but they were company enough.

When my wife and I first became aware that we might be having some trouble conceiving, I tried to lighten the mood by telling her during a sensitive conversation that, "Honey, despite all that we've been through, there is one thing that I need for you to know ... I hope that it's you." She was stunned for a moment, processing the notion that I wanted to blame her for our difficulties, but then she laughed. We all forget to laugh when the stress and strain of life get to be too much, but if you take it too seriously, you risk being crushed by it.

In the months that followed, she got some test results back that seemed to indicate everything from endometriosis

Want to see more?

• Fuzzy Blue Hippo: A Letter to My Unborn Child
• The House is Quiet: Loving My Niece While Waiting My Turn at Parenthood
• Cruele r Than Hope: Handling the Disappointments of Trying to Conceive
• Egg Day: Taking the Next Step Toward Conception
• Male Infertility
• Eight Ways to Improve Male Fertility
• The Most Common Myths About Infertility