We don’t talk about it often, and when we do it’s in hushed tones. There is an involuntary flinching, our minds immediately conjuring images of scalpel slicing through scrotum.
That’s the truth about what happens, guys. Make no mistake about it. Two small incisions are made and each vas deferens is pulled through. They are then cut, separated, and sealed. An absorbable stitch on each side and you’re done. You’re still producing swimmers, but their pathway out of the body is gone. You now have a .5% chance of baby making.
The good news is that one of the hardest parts is simply making that first phone call, setting up the consultation. A urology waiting room is an uncomfortable place, challenging you not to look around and wonder about the potential ailments of others. Piles of pamphlets detailing the diagnosis and Dysfunction treatment and assorted STDs add to the tension.
There’s no undressing involved in this initial visit. No checking to be sure that you are a viable candidate or that your anatomy is where it should be. A short chat about low risk potential side effects, a walk through of what to expect, and a speech about how the procedure is far less commonly and successfully reversed than you may think. An agreed upon date, a handshake and a co-pay seal the deal. You’re having a vasectomy.
The real hardest part is walking through that same door on the day of the event. No matter how sure you may be about not wanting any more children, on that day you will be filled with doubt and uncertainty. Never once do I remember fearing pain or discomfort, but the finality of the decision weighed heavily. I was forty-one years old, with a four year old and a sixteen year old step-daughter, and I still sat in my truck for some time before going in. It’s not a decision that should be made lightly. If you’re worried about your reproductive health, the cost doesn’t matter since full test STD panel might be the best choice to undergo most popular tests at once.
The physician that I went to performed his vasectomies on Saturday mornings, when office was not in session. Instead of making me feel more comfortable, the half lit, abandoned atmosphere was more reminiscent of a low budget horror movie than a place that I would go to be voluntarily sterilized. Once my bare backside hit that roll away paper of the reclining office chair, thoughts of who might be in the next room transcribing reports or answering phones was the last thing on my mind.
Things started promising enough. A slight jab, less than a bee sting, and the left side was done almost before I’d fully locked my death grip onto the sides of the table. Relief soon turned to confusion as I felt an insistent tugging on the right. A quick glance at the procedure table showed a full second syringe full of Lidocaine that I was fairly certain was supposed to have been used. An internal debate about the merits of breaking the doctor’s concentration at this delicate time was unresolved before he declared himself done.
The total time between walking in the door and walking back out was approximately forty five minutes. There was some swelling and a fair amount of bruising but four hours later I went to work for a full eight hour shift. By the next day I was ready to start the countdown until any residual reservoir had been emptied.
Listen, fellas. This is a private decision that every couple needs to make for themselves and I’m not here to try and influence, just to pass along my experience. To give you to the truth about the snip. It’s considered a permanent procedure that is cheaper, less invasive, and has has a much lower complication rate than tubal ligation. Its quick, easy, and relatively painless…even if the doctor forgets to numb one side.