Everyone summons your best Elvis (or Sinatra…..or Anka) “My Way” and sing with me……
And now, my breeding’s done;
And so I slice my vas deferens.
My wife, provided me,
Doctor info for which to reference.
I’ve got a boy and girl.
Don’t want no more, and this will fix me.
Oh yes, I had it done,
For what is a man, what has he got?
If not his…….
I better stop there. And before you ask, no, I was not singing soprano. I retain my sexy, testosterone laden, baritone rumble. I remain as manly as I’ve ever been which, arguably, isn’t all that manly but that’s beside the point right now. I got snipped and much to my surprise and relief I don’t feel much different at all. Oh sure, I’ve had this overwhelming urge to sit down when I urinate the last few days and I find myself eager to watch figure-skating for some reason, but everything else seems status quo. I’m still as much a man as I ever was. Heck, one might even argue I’m more a man now just for having the guts to go through with it; I’ll refrain from specifically naming any less manly wimps out of courtesy…but you are wimpy. Cause, I gotta tell ya truthfully, it’s really not that bad. Seriously.
Oh it’s not void of pain. I’m not trying to sugarcoat things. You feel it and it isn’t pleasant. Even now, a few weeks afterwards, skipping down the stairs is a quick reminder of what occurred down below. But I’ve felt worse pain in my life; a lot worse and of longer duration. This is mostly just a lingering discomfort, like trying to refrain from farting on a first date. If anything, the worst part of the entire procedure is sitting bare-assed in a reclining chair and having a strange man play with your “carry-on luggage” for twenty minutes. That’s just … umm … awkward.
Not that getting to know him better would help. This is definitely not something you want a friend to do. No, a stranger is just fine, thank you very much. Never seeing this man again in my entire lifetime is perfectly fine with me, thank you very much. Would I want to shake his hand if we crossed paths once again and how would I introduce him to my friends or my wife? Especially considering this doctor thinks a Burt Reynolds mustache circa 1977 remains an acceptable facial feature. Even I don’t want The Bandit driving my “Trans Am”!
Here’s a neat little tidbit of information I’ll bet most of you don’t know and those that do know only found out after you (or your husband) got a vasectomy. It doesn’t work immediately. Who knew that cutting the garden hose would allow the sprinkler to continue operating for quite some time afterward?
It’s true. In fact, according to the informational pamphlet I received from the doctor, it can take up to thirty episodes of … uhhhh … ummm … ‘lawn watering’ before the hose is completely empty and all the ‘fertilizer’ is dissolved. Thirty! Treinta! Trente! Dreißig! Dertig! And married guys are supposed to be getting this procedure? Thirty! That’ll take like … uhhh … anniversaries and uh … well birthdays, usually, oh and Christmas … umm … carry the 1, holy crap that’s like ten years! Ten years before the whole purpose for getting this done will even be a viable option. Are they nuts? And they want me to get tested for success in four months. Ha, good luck!
[This was originally written in a letter I sent out in October 2009. You’ll be happy to know, or I am anyway, that it didn’t take ten years; it is still working (phew); and I’m quite capable of skipping up and down stairs without the slightest discomfort. I still like to pee sitting down, though.]