prepping the patient

September 16, 2013

What to expect when you’re vasecting.

As the big day for my bloomers looms, I’d say it’s good practice to know what the future holds for one’s cajones. After all, when it comes to my berries, I’m not really a big fan of the word, “Surprise!” Nor “oops,” nor “uh-oh” nor “say, what’s that bumpy thing?” for that matter.

So, the plan is to have a plan. Luckily for me, I have a wonderful wife who is eager to help.

IMG_4644Pink? Really?

There are a number of things that I know are going to happen to me on V-Day. Some of these things I can control, and some of these things will be in the hands of my doctor. Literally. And I mean literally in the literal sense – not in that figuratively literal way.

1. I will get an injection in my ball bag.
2. I will get an incision in my ball bag.
3. I will get an injection in the vicinity of my left gonad.
4. I will get an injection in the vicinity of my right gonad.
5. There will be scissors.
6. There will be clamps.
7. There will be stitches.
8. There will be soreness.
9. There will be swelling.
10. There will be peas for dinner.

Let’s start with steps 1-2. Injection and Incision. These are things I would prefer go well, so I want to make it as easy on the wielder of the cutlery as possible. Hence, I shall arrive shorn.

britney-spears-shaved-headWhat could possible go wrong?

“Thank you for calling 98.7 WBALLS – who do I have on the line?” – “Kyle Colby Jones here. Long-time admirer, first-time shaver.” Okay, so I’ve never taken a razor to my poor, gentle genitalia before. And I’ve always used an electric razor for my face. Now, I’ve been told that would be an awful choice for a rather wrinkly and highly snaggable surface. So, a blade it is.

After my barber refused and told me to never come back again, I was forced to seek out the advice of my friends. And I got lots. I honestly had no idea how much of the world was walking around all smooth and shiny. Some basics: Start with a beard trimmer. (Turns out that kinda tickles, by the way.) Do it in the shower. Employ downward strokes.

I was also delightfully shocked to discover that some folks had even created names for their own personal man-sculpting methods. The Butterfly Technique. The Spread N’ Shed. The Bat-Wing. Nonetheless, I got it done. Accident free.

Steps 3-7. Snipping & Stitching. The only thing I can really do at this point is be absolutely still. No sudden movements. For this, I am hoping to be frozen with fear.

Steps 8-9. Pain & Swelling. Frozen peas, a soft chair and prescription pain killers will be at the ready. And the kids will be at the ready to fetch dear old dad any other provisions he may need. (Psst. It rhymes with beer.)

Step 10. Dinner. I might also try mashing some potatoes.

Alright. I’m set. Everything should be okay. As long as the good doctor remembers to trim his nails.

And if he doesn’t, then he’s invited to dinner.

September 13, 2013

Ballology 101

After the little warm-up appointment with the good Dr. Richard Cushion Hands, I am now much more learned in the ways of my built-in ovarian fertilization unit. Seems simple enough, really. There’s a couple of fertilizer factories. A distribution channel from each factory to a central export facility. From there, the cargo is jettisoned into the mysteries of the universe.

That’s you! And me! And about a Jizzillion other potential chances to catch a spark of life and do something awesome and meet a gal and fall in love and eat pizza and skin a knee and take a crap and watch the Longhorns take a crap and throw a beer on the floor and go to bed.

Anyway. I’m trying to say we’re all special. And that we’re all little miracles. Just maybe not because of this part.

WARNING: I’ll be using the word, “ejaculate” a bunch of times. And in many forms.

Each ejaculation contains, on average, 200-500 million sperm. That’s hundreds of millions of chances to eat pizza. Anything below 40 million sperm-per-ejaculation and the word, “impotence” starts getting thrown around. Flip it over, rub it down, and then a few rare master ejaculators can produce over ONE BILLION SPERM in a single ejaculation.

Shower-Drain-in-the-BathroomSo you’re one-in-a-million. Whoop-tee-doo.

WARNING: There will be a pronunciation change in the word, “ejaculate.” Unlike the verb – ‘ee-JAK-yoo-layt‘, you will sometimes see the noun – ‘ee-JAK-yoo-lit.’

One single sperm fertilizes an egg. Each release of ejaculate contains hundreds of millions of sperm. But, get this – only 5% of each release of ejaculate is actually sperm. That’s right, you’re a drop in the buck of a drop in the bucket. (Note: never use this analogy in front of your lady.)

So you may be asking yourself – what’s the other 95%? Here’s the magic recipe:

70% fructose, amino acids, enzymes, etc. [sperm food]
25% Acid phosphatase, fibrinolysin, citric acid, etc. [lube]
5% Sperm [sperm]
>1% Galactos, mucus [more lube]

So, what the good doctor is going to do is cut the tubes supplying the 5%. Let’s go to the map:

vasectomy_picture

“F” indeed.

That part takes about five minutes. And I’m told I’ll be sore for a couple of days. Then, I’ll be back in action after about a week. But, I won’t be completely sperm-free for another two months. Why so long you ask? I’ll have to save that for another blog.

WARNING: I’ll be using the word “masturbate” a bunch of times.

September 12, 2013

Hello, Doctor. Meet my scrotum.

If you want a vasectomy, you go to a urologist. (I had to look that up.) A urologist treats everything from overactive bladders and urinary tract infections to enlarged prostates and spooky scary cancer stuff.

This initial visit does not involve a scalpel – just rubber gloves. They called it a “consult.” Basically, it’s a quick meet-and-greet for the doctor, myself and my naughty bits. I scheduled the appointment for 3:00 in the afternoon. That way, I could leave work early without the expectation of returning. Genius.

Now, the first thing you do at a urologist’s office is the exact same thing you do at any other doctor’s office. You wait. And then you pee in a cup.

Now I’m no expert, but I would have had a diagnosis on this particular warm cup of yellow goodness right off the bat. This guy just drank a bunch of coffee. I considered gorging on a heaping pile of asparagus for lunch. But, I figured that ultimately I wanted these pee-pee professionals on my side throughout this whole ordeal.

So, I hand the cup over to some lucky devil with the best job in the world and make my way to the assigned room.

Enter Dr. Kim.

He closed the door and gave a quick smile. Then came the moment of truth – the handshake. This simple pleasantry could make or break the entire thing.

big_hands_420-420x0Just turn your head and scream.

Good news. He had soft, supple hands with delicate nimble fingers. Expertly manicured nails splashed with a touch of lavender scent glided into a precision grasp and then quickly released within a comfortably measured timeframe.

He asked why I was there, and upon hearing ‘vasectomy,’ he responded, “Oh good. That’s easy.” In fact, he told me that the actual procedure would take less time than the consult. After asking a few more questions, he whipped out a pen and pad. He drew a few amazing pictures worthy of any middle school bathroom stall. Then, he grabbed some latex gloves.

“Okay. Let’s take a look.”

I dropped my Underoos and he put on his glasses. He poked and prodded at some stuff and then pointed at the spot where he would be going in. Front and center. He pointed out one of the actual vas deferens tubes, too. Kinda weird looking. He even commented on how my sparse amount of body hair and low levels of body fat were going to make the whole thing easier and more pleasant for the both of us. I took it as a compliment.

He popped off his gloves. I pulled up my pantaloons. And he sent me to the front counter to schedule my procedure. Easy-peasy.

Feeling reassured and oddly confident, I strolled up to the sliding window and greeted the nice young receptionist with a grin. “Good day, me lady. I would like to schedule a timely congress to partake in a casual vasectomy. Might I inquire as to your next opportune availability?”

“Sure thing. How’s Friday, the 13th?”