Andrew F. Butters gives us the goods on the guy to see about a thing.
You gotta have a guy for everything.
Whether it’s a financial guy or an electrical guy or simply a guy with a truck, you have got to have a guy for everything. If you don’t have a guy you have got to know a guy who knows a guy. There comes a time in a man’s life when it will absolutely crucial to not just know a guy, but to know THE guy, and that time is when you’re making the call to book your vasectomy.
Hey, it happens.
My wife and I decided that our family was complete, and with my wife having given birth to two larger than normal babies through natural means (and associated recovery) the task of eliminating the chances of another fell onto my… um…. shoulders.
Now, on my best day I’m a paranoid hypochondriac prone to anxiety, so the prospect of hearing the words “needle”, “incision” and “testicles” in the same sentence had me freaked out. So, leading up to The Big Phone Call I spoke with a few friends about where they went to get theirs done and every one of them came back with the name of the same guy. In fact, in the town I was living in at the time this guy was renowned.
It turns out this guy is the leading vasectomy doctor in North America and at the time had performed over 22,000 procedures. He also pioneered a new needle free anesthetic and mastered a no-scalpel technique for the actual procedure. Suffice it to say, I was encouraged.
After booking the appointment there was little prep work required. I had to prepare the “area” for a surgical procedure. The razor in the prep kit was just a shade shy of an actual torture device so I quickly replaced it for one of my own and then did a haphazard final pass with “the blades of doom” just so I can say that I used the razor that was provided.
One hour before the procedure I got to take a Valium and something to calm my stomach and make me drowsy. By the time I arrived at the office I was higher than Courtney Love at the MTV awards.
The procedure was done in fifteen minutes. I was amazed at how efficient it all was but I guess if you’re doing 22,000 of these you kind of have the opportunity to hone the procedural efficiencies.
It went like this:
- Drop trou for inspection
- Lie down (there was a nice poster of a palm tree on the ceiling)
- They wrap an elastic band around your pecker and then pin the other end of the elastic band to your shirt. This keeps Mr. Winky from flopping around and getting in the way
- Three small puffs of air + anesthetic to each side of the nut sack. Wait 5 minutes
- Poke a hole in one side with a metal spear that looked like something you’d use to get meat out of a lobster claw
- Pull out vas #1, snip it, clip it (with titanium!), cauterize the other loose end (DO NOT inhale when he does this), and put a steri-strip over the little hole in your marble bag
- Repeat for side #2
- Sit for fifteen minutes in the waiting room
I stood up after my fifteen minutes to discover that all I wanted to do was fall over. “Am I supposed to feel this dizzy?” I asked the receptionist. “That’s just the Valium”, she says, “It’ll last a few more hours”.
At this point it should be noted that I can completely understand how people get themselves addicted to Valium. It’s positively fantastic. For all you kids reading out there, stay very far away from this shit. If anyone has any extra kicking around, message me.
Recovery was a breeze. After the drugs wore off I felt like someone gave me a good swift kick to the nards but the next day I felt nothing unless I walked around too much. Then, it was a dull ache not unlike wearing a frozen orange hockey ball to the giblets. The next day nothing at all, even walking around and doing stairs.
My youngest kid took a tumble on day three of post-op and I instinctively reached down to scoop him up. I got as far as my knees with him off the ground before I felt “the tug”. I dropped the kid like a bad habit (for which I felt bad) and sat down to rest. Lesson learned.
You’re not supposed to do anything strenuous for a week after for the reason mentioned above as well as the fact that it’ll reduce the chances of success. I somewhat hit the lottery with the timing of my procedure because in the two days following we got almost three feet of snow – and we didn’t have a snow blower (ask my wife if she’s still pissed about that).
For the next twelve weeks you’re required to “clear the pipes” at least a dozen times. I put in what I thought was a reasonable request for my wife to help with half of them. After the twelve weeks, you aim the last cleansing purge into a cup, pop it into the mail, and mail your spunk to the lab. A week later you login to a website and find out if you’ve got any swimmers (I didn’t!)
So, it pays to have THE guy. Look for THE guy in your town and choose wisely.
Here are five things to keep in mind:
- Avoid needles
- Avoid scalpels
- Hell to the effing yes to Valium
- Choose your date wisely
- Strive for 50% or better “pipe cleaning” assistance
- Tip your letter carrier