A friend at work today was telling me about his upcoming vasectomy, so I thought I would share my experience from a chair side perspective. My wife and I decided to not have kids. I will share my thoughts and feeling about our decision in a future post as it is a deeper topic than this one. I think being a parent is the most important job in the world and I have the highest admiration to you parents out there.
This story begins when we go to the Doctor for our 'conciliation' where he explains the procedure. The doctor explains that he will give me a local sedative and freeze the area so I will be awake for the whole procedure. Having Cerebral Palsy - I'm spastic. This means I startle very easily. I explain to the doctor that I jump at the slightest tap on the shoulder let alone a razor blade approaching my goods. He tries to comfort me by saying that the sedative will make me feel all loopy and we will be talking to each other all the way through it. "It's like drinking and talking with your buddies", he explains. I had three major problems with his explanation:
1. When I drink with my buddies we don't 'snip' each other.
2. We're not on talking terms - dude, you're snipping my berries
3. You shouldn't be talking to me - keep your eye on the prize
The day finally comes and I'm scheduled to be the first patient. I like to handle these things head on and get it over with. It did feel weird to be the only one in the waiting room. I was rolled in on a bed to the operating room. The nurse says, "Mr. Dame can you please jump up on the table". My anxiety hits the roof...obviously she did not read my chart. I politely asked her to read my chart. She reads the chart and is embarrassed. Given that my professional occupation revolves around reducing high risk and performing validation checks, I ask her to review what was to happen...one can't be too careful.
After the procedure my wife rolls me out in my wheelchair. The fear that was in the eyes of the men in the waiting room was priceless. Since we know that 'Disabled people can be bastards' , it should be no surprise that I announced to everyone that I walked in there that morning.
On the way out the nurse hands us a container. She tells us that we have to bring a 'sample' to the lab for testing in six weeks to make sure the operation was a success. The hugest smile appeared on my face as I looked at my wife, holding up my hands and shrugging my shoulders. For once in my life having gimpy hands was going to work in my favour - I was going to be the 'self-serve' gas pump. My wife blushes. The nurse cautions that the sample needs to be tested within the hour of 'procurement'
Six weeks later ...Saturday morning (forever known as Davey Day) arrives. My wife gets everything ready as she only has less than an hour to race the sample to the lab for testing. Unfortunately we could not get a police escort from our home to the lab so time was precious. She 'procures' the sample and races out the door. Having a new appreciation for what cows go through on a daily basis...I felt the need for a nap. My wife returns home and she brings me to the barber to get my haircut. This was a real old school barber so he used a straight razor, tonic the whole works. This was followed by a nice afternoon walk and an awesome dinner and nice wine. I don't know what a day at the spa is like...but this had to be pretty close.
Until next time...