My Vasectomy - and like Stevie Nicks, I need a Little Sympathy

The Great Vasectomy of 2011 is now complete. Let me tell you, I can't wait until my junk looks human again. I know all y'all are dying to hear the details, so let me tell you. All week I was sort of a basket case waiting for Friday to roll around. I wasn't freaking out about the pain, and I don't think I was really freaking out about any of the strange side effects that I had read about on all those websites I should have ignored. I think I was more afraid of having to be trapped on a table. You know how I freak out at the dentist? Well, if need be, I could easily just sit up, push the dentist out of the way, and go clear my head if I was getting completely freaky. Pushing someone away with a scalpel on your nuts? Not so much.
Anyway, I realize I was an asshole to live with all week. I was testy and couldn't get a good sleep, and was just horrible. However, part of me knew that I just needed to get it done and it would be all right. So I am bound and determined to get a good sleep on Thursday night. The weather all week was weird. It went from 30 below to above freezing in like 12 hours, and it stayed around zero all week, which was nice, except for the freezing rain on Thursday evening. Then, I awake at 6 in the morning on Friday with the wind freaking out, and as we are getting ready to leave for the City, where the great Vas chopping was happening, we hear the highways are a mess. From here to "McDonald", the road was said to be ice covered, and from there to the city, slippery sections. So I am wondering if this is some sort of sign, and I am afraid that we won't make it there. However, we get to the city by 11:30, and as I don't have to be at the hospital until 1:15, we go to Old Navy. That turned out to be a good move. They have this sale that started that morning, where all clearance stuff was an additional 50% off, and everything non-clearance was 30% off. We end up buying like 5 large bags of clothes for the kids and for me, and it costs.... get this... 159 dollars. I think there is some sort of mistake and do a "start the car!" type of retreat out of the store, but when we realize it is indeed right, we make plans to come back if I can walk.
So then we run to Tims to grab a bagel before the vas chopping (I said I couldn't eat anything else, in case I got pukey feeling on the table, but promised I would go wherever the wife wanted to go after the chopping), and I down two Ativan, and we go to perhaps the nicest hospital I've ever been in - City Hospital.
So we check in and long story short, they call my name, and I'm not too freaked out yet. They tell me to keep my shirt on and my socks for some reason, and my gitch, and to get on the table, and then they'll cover me with a sheet. So I sit there and listen to the last guy in the adjoining room get finished up, and then the doctor comes in and tells me what he's going to do and I lay down and pull down my gitch and they cover me with a sheet. I am thinking I would be spread eagle on the bed, like a birthing mother, but he kept saying "no, just relax." It was weird. He quickly gave me a shot, and I have to say that a needle in the sack wasn't nearly as bad as I thought. Indeed, the hardest part up to that point was trying to SHAVE my sack. I don't know how porn stars do it, I really don't. Luckily, I started the procedure on Wednesday night, and I think it was a good 20 minutes. I didn't appreciate at how many fucking folds of skin there were on a ball sack until then. Anyway, the shaving instructions were weird too - it was like "shave the front and sides of the scrotum" but depending on how you are standing, the borders of front, side, and back of a sack is all relative. Anyway, I got it done.
So back to the table. He freezes me and I can feel wetness running down my 'taint, and I realize that if I don't want to freak out, I need to talk, so I am chatting away with this dude, and say "have you started anything?" and he goes "I'm almost done the left side" and I was all "but I only feel stuff on the right side?" but whatever - he's the doctor. The only thing that grossed me out was this sort of gross burning smell, like he was cauterizing something - which he probably was. But that didn't last long.
But then he started the OTHER side.
It started out ok, but then he was yanking, and I got this hideous feeling like I was being kicked in the balls, if my balls were lying horizontally across my waist. Seriously, he was pulling, and the tube or whatever must have ran horizontally along my waist. It was horrible and I groaned and said "OOOOH, I'm feeling that" so he said it was unusual to give more freezing, but he did. Then he asked how I was doing and I fessed up and said "I'm really sweating" because I was afraid I'd puke or pass out, and so he calls the nurse, who was in the next room cleaning up something, to bring me a cloth, and let me tell you, she was Florence fucking Nightingale. When she found out where I was from, she was from just north of here, and we knew some people in common, and she brings me a cloth for my head and under my neck and as soon as I feel the cold, I was fine, but she was still thinking I was some fainting mental patient and she's changing the cloths every few minutes, and I am getting nicely stoned on my ativan, so I am all "no, I'm fine" and she's all "but we need to get your colour back in your face" so then I'm all "I am always pale, don't worry!" and then try to explain how I hate hospitals and dentists and all of that crap and then they are done, but she says "you lay there for a minute" and asks my wife's name and tells her to come in and I am so excited it's done and so suddenly high on Ativan that when Rachel is all "how was it?" I exclaim "AWESOME!" and apparently I am saying it was awesome about 5 times, but what I mean is that it wasn't at all bad, and the only bad part was that horrible pulling thing, which I am still sort of feeling as I type. But anyway, the nurse brings me juice and makes me drink 2 orange juice, and then I hop off the table and go behind the little curtain (she made me pull up my underwear as soon as the doctor was done, but I really didn't give a fuck at that point and would have showed your grandma if you wanted me to) and I'm yelling for Rachel to bring me my jock strap that I was told would be helpful (It isnt), and then I'm going "let me look at this in the mirror" and then I am exclaiming "it's just an ordinary band-aid!" on my sack. I think I was a little over the top, I was so euphoric to have this done. The doctor is giving me instructions and papers and test bottles and Lord knows what, but I'm not really listening. Then we get out of there and I am floating on air. I tell the Mrs. that I am fine to go to Home Sense, which she really wanted to go to, so we do, and even I realize I am high because we get in there, and we somehow separate, and I end up meeting her "with one towel in my hand" and saying we should get these towels. If you know us, you'd know that she always is buying towels and I am always bitching her out, saying "why the fuck do we need new display towels...." and yada yada. Well, yesterday, I bought fucking TOWELS. Two bath size, two hand, two face clothes. I'm the one saying "they will match the picture in the bathroom." Rachel is all "they will??" and suddenly I am Nate Burkis - shaved balls and all.
Then we went to Chili's to eat, and we pigged out. Our server, Tyson, is all Johnny Depp, and kneels and whispers in a drawl everything, and kneels each time he comes to see us, like I'm the king and he's the concubine. And he's got the Johnny Depp thing down and is telling me to fill out the online survey and if I win the contest money, I have to come and buy him a beer, and I want to start howling in laughter, but I just ride the high and roll with it. Then I have to pee. I am nervous about this. I find the can and go to the urinal, and have one FUCK of a time trying to get JT Jr. out of this tight jock strap and over my sweats, and it kind of made me a little pukey feeling, but I manned up and pissed and then it was back to Old Navy for more sale stuff, none of which I tried on because I didn't want to disturb the boys.
Then we went to Costco for 400 dollars of groceries, and since Rachel had to push the cart, I think she now appreciates how Costco is a great workout for the biceps and trices when you hit about the 300 dollar mark of food.
Then we hit the highway, got to town, went to pick up the Boy, as the rest of the kids were staying with the inlaws for a sleepover, and we went home. I had taken my T3s, which always make me tired, then wired, then nauseous, each and every time I've taken them, and I went through those motions, and then went to sleep.
I sleep sort of ok, but wake up having to pee. And women don't get this, but I had a piss hard on first thing this morning. And my eyes weren't open, but then I think "FUCK! OMG! FUCK! It's hard!" and I concentrate really hard and it goes away and I get up to pee. I didn't want any kind of erection happening, since the doctor said to wait a week for sex. So I pee, peel off the horrid jock strap, and take a good look. As the day went on, my junk got more swollen. Tonight, it was the worst. You see, my doctor told me "don't listen to those guys who say they went kayaking/built a deck/played soccer when they had their's done". He said "I had it done. Do nothing for 3 days. NOTHING. Those who do are the ones who have troubles later on. RENT MOVIES!" The urologist sort of said the same thing. I sort of did too much today. TOnight? Well, the swelling made me nauseous to look at. My sack is impressively big, with an extra swollen section added to it. My dick has a shelf now - it's resting in this swollen portion of my sack. And the fact that there is all this swelling, is making me want to hurl. A few hours ago, the swelling was really bad - the old boy itself had this odd swelling in parts. Then I sat on my bag of peas for an hour and it doesn't look as bad. I just hope it goes down tomorrow.
Funny story though - my wife is getting dressed this morning, and i am laying in bed and she's naked and yada yada and I am yelling "stop!" I'm getting the wrong thoughts.... quick, think of Delores." Delores is someone completely gross that we know, who told Rachel all about her stomach flu and the consistency of her poop (long story, but I am making none of this up). Anyway, she's hideous. So then I say "I'm picturing Delores sitting on the shitter with her yellow poop" and then I say, "lets throw in Velma (Delores' mother, who is like 80 and has a deformed hand) and picture her hand" and my wife kills it completely and says "picture Velma's deformed hand giving you a hand job" and that was it. Problem averted.
But I've done way too much today and I'm swollen and my waist has that sore feeling and I am sort of freaking out by the swelling. But tomorrow is another day, so just pray for me.
And I regret nothing. I thought I'd be all weepy that I was soon to be sterile, but I'm nothing but exciting. And that makes me happy. As my wife told me yesterday, she's proud of me. This was entirely my idea. She never mentioned it, and I made my own appointments and own decisions and she never said anything. I'm glad I did it. As long and this shit heals.
Which reminds me, I should sit with my bag of peas before bed.
Have a good night y'all.