The oddities of the relationship between my father and I has been well documented. Although I think we reached a milestone recently when he casually asked me if I would like an 'Erection Meter'. My eyes lit up like Christmas and I replied with a fervent "Yes!". Now, for some strange reason when I tell people how the Erection Meter came to be in my possession they look somewhat horrified. "Your father gave it to you?", "Yeah, of course!" I reply, like it is the most natural thing in the world for a twenty-something woman to be gifted an Erection Meter from her father.
You see, what makes this a milestone moment is that I was the only person in my father's life that he felt comfortable sharing the hilarity of this 'clinical aide' with. And I think that's awesome. It highlights our shared understanding, sense of humour and a level of comfort that only a lifetime of medical conversations over the dinner table can lend. So with that said, let me tell you about the Erection Meter, or, as my father likes to call it the "Erect-A-Meter".
Firstly, I should comment that it was significantly less offensive than anticipated, which perhaps reveals more about me than the company that produced it. That company of course, is Pfizer, the big-pharma that bought us Viagra. My father is GP by trade, and for years has consequently been courted by drug companies attempting to harness his prescribing power. Dinners, lunches, conferences, free pens, medical charts, umbrellas and post-it notes have all been gifted to him in an effort to buy his prescription preference. And like most doctors, my father has taken the freebies and prescribed what he felt was the most effective medications regardless of what is printed on the pens and post-it notes.
Sadly, this gravy-train of freebies is coming to an end as the Australian government seeks to wipe out this sort of bribery. As a social worker I believe this to be a positive thing, but as the daughter of doctors I feel completely devastated. Some of the best biros and notepads I have ever owned were branded with Zyprexa and Stilnox. So not only is the Erect-A-Meter an amusing party-favour, it also represents the end of an era of drug company freebies in the life of one Miss Anne.
From what I can gather, the Erect-A-Meter presents the patient with four 'panels' of varying 'rigidities' which are each assigned a type from 1 to 4. The types are:
- Larger, but not hard.
- Hard, but not hard enough for penetration.
- Hard enough for penetration, but not completely hard.
- Completely hard and fully rigid.
My father made the following comment when he gave it to me - "It's completely useless clinically. What Australian male is going to admit to anything but a 4?"
(The Erect-A-Meter, as modelled by myself in the guise of Vince Noir)
I must confess that now I own an Erect-A-Meter I am a little unsure of what to do with it. As if I wasn't already a scary prospect to the male species, I now own something I could conceivably use to judge them where they're most vulnerable. I like to think that I would never use this object to judge a man, but the phrase "he was definitely a 4" has already found its way into conversations with some of the female friends I have shown it to. I have also had more than one female friend comment that they could "definitely work with a 2" and that they felt Pfizer's assumption that it was 'not hard enough' to be unfair. To add to my confusion, my most recent presentation of the Erect-A-Meter to the public (my housewarming), the men were equally, if not more fascinated by it than the women were.
Clearly I must keep it as a party piece. But where do I keep it? On a shelf? On public display? Under my bed? In my goodie drawer?? I feel as if a sacred object has been trusted to me and I am overwhelmed by my responsibility to protect the world from its potential evils. Or perhaps I am overreacting and should just put it in a cupboard. Either way, can you believe that such a thing even exists?? That, is the funniest thing of all.

