Typically I am a very positive person. I am not very positive about my vasectomy story.
My wife was pregnant with our third child. I was at work at my firehouse and was having a conversation with my chief and telling him that my wife had decided to get a tubal ligation after delivery. She and I had talked about it and she was good with it. I was good with it as well.
My chief had gotten a vasectomy and said that it really was no big deal. He basically shamed me for allowing my wife to have a secondary assault on her body after childbirth. After a lot of discussions, he convinced me that it was no big deal and that recovery would only be a few days. He talked about how much my wife would love me even more if I went to her and said that “I” had made the decision that I didn’t want her to go through with the tubal ligation and that I would take on the responsibility.
Flash forward: The procedure itself was less than desirable. I took 11 shots of novocaine before my scrotum was numb enough to cut into. Seconds into the first cut he began cutting an area that was not yet numb. Yes, I am not proud to say it but I dropped an “F-bomb” right on the doctor’s head. He smiled and in good stride said “Hmmm, looks like we need a little more juice there!” and proceeded to give me a couple more shots. After 20 minutes of small talk and smelling the smell of my own skin being cauterized shut and watching the smoke rise up from my own crotch, the first part of the nightmare was over. I got up, walked out, and was okay the rest of the day. Two days later I drove from Cleveland to Maryland for some training for work. No big deal. Things were finally going well.
Six weeks had passed and I was really excited because I was greatly looking forward to hearing the doctor say “Press forth and enjoy spontaneous sex without a condom my child!” … Yeah – Uhhhh… No. Not so much. I made my appointment to shoot into a cup for the sperm count. I waited a few days (Heaven knows why it took that long to get the results) and finally, the phone rang. “Hi, here’s the situation. Unfortunately, your vasectomy didn’t take “SCREECH!!! “Rich overpaid scrotum cuttin’ doctor say WHAT???” “But…” he said, “what I’d like to do is have you come back in and we’ll re-perform the procedure. This time I’d like to put you under just a little bit with a twilight drug to help you not feel and not remember so I can dig around a little bit and really make sure we got everything.” Wait a minute… Did he just say “dig around”? DIG AROUND? I was furious. I said some not nice things and we got off the phone. I didn’t even know who to be mad at.
I was mad at my fire chief because he was a jerk in that he nosed into a business that was none of his, made suggestions that changed the course of someone’s life for the negative, and didn’t give a second thought to whether or not he should even apologize when he heard the news.
Second, I was really mad at the doctor. Really? You missed something in there??? How many of these do you do a week? You can’t even get someone numb enough to cut them without pain? Seriously? Maybe you should take up fast food cooking because you totally stink at what you chose as a profession.
Thirdly, lastly, and most importantly, I was furious with myself for listening to anyone that told me that a vasectomy was no big deal. Clearly, they never had my vasectomy. So here I am, 6 years later, no spontaneous sexual encounters. Condoms rule my life when it comes to that. And I have to hear an endless array of ridiculous statements that aren’t meant to be that way – but they are, just before coitus, by my wife like “well… suit up!” or “Roll one on”, or “slip on the raincoat.”
Submitted by Chris
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