Friday, October 21, 2005

Oh snip!

I’ve got medical stuff on the brain right now, so I might as well share this little gem.

A couple years ago Re and I decided that we were ready to be done having kids. There were other things that we may have also been done with, which are stories for another time, but we were dang sure that her getting pregnant should never be on the agenda again. Since permanent birth control is a MUCH less involved process on a man, we decided to get me snipped.

It wasn’t that bad a procedure. The shot they use to numb you in your nether regions is quite uncomfortable and way too much of my very private parts turned purple, but it’s not that bad. The strabismus correction was much more unpleasant. The unsightly and fiery magenta/purple color faded after a couple of days, but it was still a bit disconcerting. And having hair regrow “down there” wasn’t great either, but it’s all fine now. And, having your vas defrens yanked outside your body isn’t a walk in the park, either. It’s like those little tubules are not only attached to your prostate, but also all the way up to your liver. I swear when he pulled them out with that little hook doo-dad, I could feel it from my toes to my adam’s apple.

Less invasive, hell!

Anyway, I was just thinking about the procedure and at the end, the doc was pretty much done, sutures were in, blood mostly cleaned up and gauze was lying there on the “damage.” He then told me, “I want you to grab this gauze and squeeze. It has your scrotum in between there. Squeeze hard since this will help stop the bleeding. It won’t hurt at all since you are still numb.”

Or something like that.

And then he said good-bye and went out to do whatever he does after a snipping.

Unfortunately, I did not have the presence of mind to say what came to me later. “You mean, notwithstanding the fact that I am paying you (well, my insurance company will be paying whenever they get around to it), and you are specially trained and everything, *I* have to squeeze my own scrotum to abate the bleeding? You’re joking, right?”

Though now, in retrospect, I guess I’d rather do the squeezing instead of him or worse, the female nurse who was there apply pressure.

I mean, maybe messing around with scrotums and urethras would make it so I wouldn’t want to squeeze one, either. I don’t know, it just struck me as far too “do it yourself.”

Needless to say, there is no comparable gallery for this procedure so don’t go looking for one.

1. Hey Jon,

   I was sent the link to this post by Elizabeth S., who claims friendship with your wife and, I suppose, you by default.

   She did so that I may get another man’s perspective on a relatively recent “V” debacle and, at your expense, let me say that I feel much better about my own that transpired just over a week ago.

   I checked into the outpatient desk at 8 AM and was mincing back out to my truck at ten to 9.  If nothing else, at least I can commiserate.  Other than the first day of ice packs and some lingering tenderness the first week, I don’t feel any vas deferens from how I used to.  (Pardon the pun.)

   I REALLY dig your hair cut on the newest front page post by the way.  You have excellent taste in your choice of coif.

   Posted by Simon  on  05/31/06  at  12:58 PM

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