WONDERFUL DAY IN
THE NEIGHBORHOOD
by Gene Royer
August 10, 2003
My neighbor Dr. Jasham Ikubbi is a second-generation American
whose parents immigrated from one of the emerging African
nations. He attended a minor American university and was not
a project of Affirmative Action--in that his secondary school
grades were superior, and his parents were legal immigrants
who paid his full tuition.
He is very successful, lives in a big house a few blocks
from me, and drives a new, top-of-the-line Lexus. A few days
ago as I was trimming limbs, he drove by and stopped his car
to chat. From ten feet away, he extended his hand and held
it out like a lance as he approached. I took the cue and extended
my own, as I stepped toward him and accepted his wide, toothy
grin of friendship.
He said he had a story to tell me, and I will relate it as
modestly as my humble way will allow.
He specializes in Urology; and for five years he labored
as a regular staff member in a co-op of specialists near the
Houston Medical Center. But three years ago he decided to
leave the group and strike out on his own. His expertise is
the treatment of erectile dysfunction in middle age men; and
in spite of the commonness of that malady, his schedule was
seldom full. No matter how much advertising he did or how
often he appeared on local talk shows to discuss the problem,
his patient list never grew.
But then one day a very fortuitous thing happened to him:
He met me.
It was at a seminar of medical managers where I was invited
to speak. Afterward, we met, and I asked him what his specialty
was. When he said "Erectile Dysfunction", I winced,
and he instinctively chuckled.
"Men always do that," he said. "Many men suffer
from it, but few are willing to come for treatment. They are
hesitant to admit a weakness in their manhood. They think
it's because of their hormones, but it's not."
"Uh-huh."
He went on to explain that contrary to popular belief, erectile
dysfunction is caused less by low hormone levels, and more
by insufficient blood circulation in the lower torso and into
the penis.
"Uh-huh."
"In most cases," he said, "it has nothing
to do with their testosterone."
"Uh-huh."
After quickly assuring him that I was not among that number
of sufferers, I suggested he try a new approach.
"The problem is that you need to stop calling it Erectile
Dysfunction, for God's sake. Why, even the utterance of that
term makes mine go down like the flag at sunset. So, don't
refer to it as a dysfunction because nobody will admit not
being able to function. Stop calling it that, and start referring
to it as something else. --Something less threatening to men."
"Like what?"
"Oh, I don't know. Instead of calling it a dysfunction,
refer to it as a treatable medical condition, which it is--same
as high cholesterol, for example. Hell, anybody can have that,
even women."
So, that was the gist of his story. He took my advice and
began saying that he specializes in the reestablishment of
normal, lower-torso blood flow in sexually active males, toward
the restoration of manly sexual vigor. He goes on to say that
this is a normal condition brought on by the stress and lifestyle
of modern 21st-Century America.
"My business has tripled," he said. "And half
my patients are African American men who were too embarrassed
to come in before. It's a cultural thing, you know."
"Yes, some men are so insecure."
He agreed. "We treat them by prescribing a number of
things, including lowering their desk chair an inch or so
in order to deliver more bodyweight to their feet instead
of their butt where it can bind them in the stride of their
pants and restrict blood flow."
"Uh-huh."
"We might also recommend a light regimen of walking
and deep knee bends to stimulated circulation. And a dietary
change, of course."
"Uh-huh."
"If minor surgery is needed to relieve a constricted
artery, it's an easy procedure that we do in the office. They
go home a new man."
"Uh-huh. Do you ever prescribe testosterone?"
"It never hurts."
©Gene Royer Houston TX 2003
©
2003 Tocqevillian Magazine
