My Vasectomy, pt.1
Yea, so that happened.
Yea, so that happened.
There was a period in the mid-aughts for about six months when I thought I wanted children. But the urge to procreate now has about as much appeal as a colonoscopy.
That said, I will concede the former's process is much more fun than the latter.
If I’m honest, aside from that very brief period, I don’t think I ever wanted children. I’ve been told that having a child “changes your life,” and the thing is, I never wanted my life changed like that. Also, I think I was kind of an asshole as a child (some might argue as an adult, too), and the thought of having to deal with a kid like me holds zero appeal.
I’d thought about a vasectomy for several years, but I always landed on these two things:
I thought insurance would consider a vasectomy something like elective surgery and wouldn’t cover it.
I thought it would be cost-prohibitive.
A friend told me that wasn’t the case. So, I began my research. She was right, per usual (a story for another time).
It didn’t take long for me to find a doctor and finalize my decision.
I only mentioned doing this to a few people. A couple asked if this was a recent decision, and my reply was the same: “That’d be a hard no.”
Which was typically followed by: “You don’t want kids?”
Again, another hard no. I do not want children. I’m not sure why people find that so incredulous. Christ, if I did, and under the best of circumstances, if I had a kid today, I would be …way too fucking old by the time the kid graduated high school.
The thought of taking my kid to an early bird special at the Olive Garden for a graduation meal is appalling. I guess for many reasons, but certainly, my age would be in the mix.
While I am not keen to marry, I don’t rule out a long-term monogamous relationship. But I have to say the thought of wearing a condom for the rest of my life is dreadful (I know condoms protect me from other things too). And it’s unfair to expect a woman to handle protection.
Let me be clear, I’m not some Lothario out dipping my wick in every woman I can, but I have been known to date.
In any event, the day comes, and I go to the clinic. The intake nurse asked me how many children I had. When I replied “none,” she stopped what she was doing.
“You don’t have any children?”
“No, I don’t.”
She thought for a moment and then carried on.
The doctor came in a few minutes later and was super personable. We had a nice chat while he took a scalpel to my testicles, hereto referred to as Poncho and Ol’ Lefty.
When he began getting after the boys, one sharp pain shot through Ol’ Lefty right away. I mean, the pain was excruciating. The doc was nonplussed and numbed the bugger up more and went about his business while chatting about television shows and art.
I would soon learn that vasectomies weren’t necessarily this doctor’s forte’.
The whole process was quick, and aside from that initial jolt, pain-free. He gave me a prescription for some Percocet (PARTAY!) and told me to take it easy. He also suggested the usual “bag of peas” icing technique — why is it always peas? The doc said to take it easy for a week or so. He made note that after 48 hours, I should have “as much sex as you can.”
I’m rarely on the same page as a doctor, but in this case, I was.
The next day, I was fine. A little sore, but not bad. The Percocet certainly helped. On the day after that, Poncho was in tip-top shape, but Ol’ Lefty was not having any of it. He hurt like a motherfucker.
Over the next six weeks, I took the doctor’s orders to heart and had as much sex as I could …sometimes even with someone else. But Ol’ Lefty was still sore. He was getting less sore, but it still felt too sore. In particular, because Poncho was fine. It seemed abnormal. It didn’t help matters knowing that vasectomies weren’t this guy's specialty.
Typically, I have a rather high pain tolerance…except for two areas, my teeth, and my nuts. So, I reached out to Dr. Internet, who told me that the pain I was experiencing was a little unusual.
I contacted the Dr.’s office for a second appointment. They squeezed me in the next day.
After I got into the examination room, the Physician’s Assistant came in and asked: “So, Dr. X did your vasectomy?”
“Uh, no, it was Dr. Z.”
“Really?”
“Yes, why?”
“Hmm. Well, he doesn’t normally do this procedure. But it’s a pretty common procedure.”
I immediately thought, “Tiger Woods has to practice his short game to keep sharp.” So, her reply didn’t instill me with a great deal of confidence. But she did say that sometimes it takes some men longer to heal. I focused on that.
After about eight weeks, Poncho and Ol’ Lefty were in tip-top shape.
Next came the waiting.
You gotta wait three months before they can check your splooge to make sure there aren’t any swimmers in it.
So, I waited.
Part 2 — Spanking the Monkey on the way.