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Saturday, January 22, 2005

Oh, My Achin' Gonads!

Okay, so shortly after 3pm yesterday I underwent a vasectomy procedure. It was very odd: walking into a clinic by myself, sitting
in a room sans pants and waiting for the good doctor to come in.
First up was the shaving of the balls, then an injection of lidocane into the scrotum.

Several minutes later, with the family jewels nice and numb, the good doctor proceeding to make a tiny incision, snip my tubes, cauterized the endings and put me back together.

All in all I'd say it was comparable to any major dental work, like getting a crown or filling. You could feel pressure and there was the ocassional whiff of smoke. Although at one point I felt like my whole groin was cut open and that the good doctor hand both his hands inside noodlin' around with my wiring.

It was a very unpleasant yet mostly painless experience. What helped was that the good doctor was from Ireland and we spent the majority of the the time talking about rugby (he was a fullback, me a scrum half), catholic school and penis jokes. It occured to me that urologists must be good at small talk because most of the procedures they are doing are routine and done in-house. Much like a gynocologist I guess - you spend most of your days touching people's private parts.

A little over an hour later the vasectomy was done. I was handed two specimen cups and told to drop off a sample in six weeks to check for any presence of sperm. I'm glad I don't have to jerk off in a doctor's office although the hilarity of such a situation was not lost on me.

I walked to my car with what the good doctor called the John Wayne gait and made a be line to the beer store. At this point, it felt like someone has just kicked me in the balls. It wasn't so much that the direct area of snip & tug was in pain, no that was still numb. But I had that feeling in the gut you get when racked - kind of like a extreme cramp.

I spent the evening laying on the couch and sipping pints while a bag of frozen peas rested on my nutsack. My wife had rented a movie, although a teenage drama with Lyndsay Lohan wouldn't have been my first choice.

At one point during the evening, she asked to she the damage, took an peek and then started singing AC/DC's "Big Balls" because my shit had swelled up like water ballons.

It's saturday afternoon and I don't feel so bad.