Explaining to some how I need "elective surgery" makes me sound like I'm getting a boob job. But I carefully crafted that phrase for three reasons:
1. Surgery = I'm going through something very serious, so I hope you'll take it seriously too.
2. Elective = But I'm not dying from anything.
3. Elective Surgery = that phrase almost demands that you not ask what it is.
That being said, the surgery was earlier referenced in my online journal so I think it's safe to give an 'epilogue' among us friends.
As the consult for my vasectomy, the doctor told me that I should wait to have it done after the Lakefront Marathon. In turn, I rescheduled and got it done a week after. To be exact, it was last Friday.
I won't go into too many details. There is way too much information to pour over. I could probably write a short book on the experience. I will reflect on some observations.
It was a very short procedure, totaling about one hour.
Everyone was extremely kind and the doctor was very cool. They talked me through the whole thing and made it very comfortable.
He asked that I take two pills before I came. One pill was for fighting off infection and the other was valium. I'm not sure if the penicillin kicked in but the valium sure did. I kept laughing like I was in on a joke that wasn't really taking place. Jeni kept asking me, "What? What?" and giggling. She finally got it that the valium was making me silly.
When I walked into the surgical room, the bed was dressed and all the sterilized gowns in one pile. The nurses kept reminding me not to touch any of the green garments because they're sterilized. Mentioning once or twice is fine but when they tell you five times, you start to wonder if they are especially fixated on your dirty, dirty hands not touching their delicate things.
The room was like any examination room. That day, it was made up, clearly for a "Vas". It had a huge tampon like thing laying where my groin would lay. The lights were pinpointed at that location as well--small round white lights that were almost setting the stage for my extremities to put on a show.
White White White. Everything was white. Except for the sterile green clothes.
The nurse knocked and I allowed her into the room since I was stripped from the waist down and tucked under a sheet. The lights, though, were shining to where the show was about to unfold.
She told me that I would be shaved. I was not sure how much would be shaved. Now that we've put this behind us and I've had time to review their work, I see it was only the "beans" that were shaved. This puts the surrounding hair growth at a peculiar piece of the design. As she finished, she told me that she would call in the doctor.
He came in and talked me through everything. He started with my right side. This makes me think he's a lefty. When his discussion on how things were going got too visual, I asked him to change the subject. We talked about the last episode of the Office. We talked about the Brewers. We talked about his love life (ps, Susie: His girlfriend is moving to Madison soon, so now's your time to make your move). He went to the left side and things got more real. And he wanted to talk about how that "always seems to happen." I, again, asked to change the conversation.
I made no quarrel with what was happening and I suddenly became in control of what was happening. I tried to subside the anguish by singing to myself. Then I sang a little bit out loud as he made genuine visual examples, "We're making the incision..."
"Jo--June--Johnny." Captain Beefheart was there somewhere, "Harry Irene. Fell apart at the seams." But it came out in hums. Where's that valium? Where did it go? I was giggling on the drive here. What happened?
They finished. The doctor left and gave me a bag of goods and some instructions. The nurse told me to sit up slowly after she left. And she told me that after I got dressed, she'll come back in and talk to me.
I iced the crap out of my beans. There's supposed to be so much humor in it but there's something sad about it.
They attached a sling to the beans. It had a gauze pad that helped with the scarring.
