In alt.foot.fat-free, email@example.com (firstname.lastname@example.org) wrote:
Beachballs everywhere, rejoice! Jackie-boy is shootin' blanks.
I'm SO pleased at how simple this was. I met with cheery Dr. Bob of
the Mirthful Eyes (no Pipe) two weeks ago and scheduled a vasectomy
for this morning. He provided me then with some pamphlets, and a small
envelope containing a Valium and an antibiotic. "See you next Friday,"
he said with a wink.
Got up at 5:30 this morning, glagged down a bit o' Joe, hopped in the
shower and proceeded to SHAVE MY SCROTUM as prescribed by Dr. Bob.
Never done that before. I practically had to physically restrain
Mumthra, she wanted to come at me with a razor so badly. Nuh-uh. We've
done a fair bit of Yeti experimentation in the ten years we've been
together, but with the exception of Trevanian's "Delight of the Razor"
neither one of us will let the other wield anything sharper than a
pound of bacon down there.
Then I popped the pills, an hour before the appointment. Initially I
SCOFFED at the puny 5mg Valium - "HAH!" I scoffed. While I haven't
consumed any alcohol in the last 12 years, I do remember that I
eventually worked up a very high tolerance for the stuff, and it has
been my understanding that Valium is cross-tolerant with alcohol.
Doctors have told me that this sort of tolerance does not recede with
abstinence, so I expected no effect from such a seemingly minuscule
Wrongo! After only 15 minutes, Mumthra was cackling at me because I
was evidently slurring my words and acting dopey. I didn't notice.
"M'nawt!" I protested, to no avail. It was kinda nice, though a little
unnerving since I haven't been buzzed like that in a long while. Five
milligrams, who woulda thunk? Sheesh!
Thus fortified, we packed Lemmy into the Minvan(tm) and headed off to
the doctor's office. (Sparky and Spunky are at Grandma's, "Bob" bless
her.) This is a urologist's office, so both last time and this time I
shared the waiting room with half a dozen geezers with prostate
problems, and one or two nervous-looking young men with their cackling
lady friends. Women really seem to get off on this snippage business,
brings out any latent misandry they may have floating about.
Drowsily skimming a National Geographic, I missed the first call from
Cheerfully Cute Elfin Nurse Sweeney. "Ready?" she asked, and maybe it
was my imagination, but it looked like her EYES were cackling.
"Fnurrr" I riposted, and teetered off to the little operating room,
leaving Mumthra and Lemmy in the waiting room. The operating room was
too small for the whole gang of us.
"Everything off below the waist," she enthused. "Dr. Bob will be with
you in a moment." I gotta hand it to these people, they are PUNCTUAL.
You know how it is, most times you make an appointment and have to
WAIT POINTLESSLY past the time of your "appointment" until they deign
to escort you to a room, where you WAIT SOME MORE for no apparent
reason. Not so at the fine offices of Twyst, Skweezit and Poke; my
appointment was at 7:45am, and she called me in to the room at
precisely 7:45am. I checked. I'm an asshole about that.
True to Cute Nurse Sweeney's words, Dr. Bob was with me in a moment.
He breezed into the room winking and chewing gum - he chewed gum
through the whole procedure, which I guess is a testament to his
surgical prowess. (Look up the etiology of the word "testimony"
Now came the time to assume the position. Ladies, your boy Jack here
has joined you in spirit, for the first thing he did was to extrude
those stainless steel foot-stirrups from the table. "Feet in the
stirrups, there you go," he said. "Scoot down some, more, okay, that's
good." There I was, my ass hanging off the table, feet pointed at the
fluorescent fixtures, and my Yeti-furred bunghole staring Cute Nurse
Sweeney in the face. I tried not to laugh. He kept having to push my
knees apart; no surprise there.
"Good job shaving," he confided. I couldn't see much, since it was
much easier to lie back and count the holes in the acoustic ceiling
tiles. The one good peek I got confirmed that Ulysses was definitely
nowhere to be found; nothing but a helmet poking out of the
"This is the only uncomfortable part," he said. "I'm going to have to
do some pulling, and then the injection. After that, you won't feel
anything." He was right, it basically felt like someone grabbing my
nuts and pulling, I guess because that's what he was doing. He then
administered the twin injections, which only hurt for about two
Snip, snip! After only a few minutes of gum-chewing snippage and
whatnot, he poked me with a cauterizer thingy and began the
preliminary sewing up. So fast! After he had done a minute of this, he
turned the remaining sewing over to Cute Nurse Sweeney. "You were
great!" he cheered, as he breezed out of the room, chewing happily,
probably thinking about his next boat purchase. Cute Nurse Sweeney and
I shot the breeze about medicine and jobs and stuff while she SEWED UP
MY SCROTUM and batted Ulysses out of the way, who had finally come out
for a peek. She applied two simple gauze pads to the incisions, no
tape or anything, and I gingerly stepped into my swim trunks, which
were the only garments I owned that had any kind of support to them.
I'm a boxers guy, I don't own any jockey shorts, so I think I'll have
to swipe some of Mumthra's underwear for the next week in order to
keep things from jouncing around. Don't tell her, okay?
Something made me faintly nauseous, maybe the Valium or the
anaesthetic, but otherwise the trip home was uneventful. Dear, sweet
Mumthra was kind enough to chauffeur me AND pick up my prescriptions
for Tylenol w/codeine and more antibiotics. Stuff like this just keeps
making me fall in love with her over and over again.
So here I sit, icepack on my nads, a bit woozy from the drugs. All in
all, a most excellent experience. Guys, if you're ever thinking about
getting a vasectomy, go for it. There's nothing to it. If for some
reason I had to go back and do it again, I wouldn't protest except for
the general inconvenience.
Next up: 6 and 8 week SPERM SAMPLES. Gotta make sure the little
buggers are gone. Great. I need to get the samples to the lab within
an hour of, um, production. Fortunately they don't make you go into a
room with old stuck-together issues of HUSTLER or anything, you can
just bring in the sample. The sample cups they gave me are 100
milliliters, about half a measuring cup. Good Gobbs, what do they
think I am, a donkey or something?
Anyway, news as it happens.
"People have funny-shaped minds" - Larry Wall