Thursday, September 11, 2003 |
Trophy Bollocks
After people find out that I already have two children they often ask, "When is the next one coming?"
When I reply, "two is enough" they often say I might change my mind later down the track. My quite candid response to this is "No I have taken steps to ensure that does not happen"
Yes I have had the chop.
This surprises a lot of people as I am only 27. It even surprised the Specialist my local GP referred me to. When I walked in there and told him I wanted a Vasectomy. He said he would be much more comfortable if I came back and saw him in 3 months in case I changed my mind. He then became the second guy to feel my balls, giving me a quick check for Testicular Cancer. (In case you are wondering the first guy was the Doctor who gave me the required physical exam to get a SCUBA certification). He then took $80 from me for the consultation.
I came back after 3 months and advised him I had not changed my mind. He wrote a date down in his book for it to be done and then asked me for another $80.
The day of the procedure was a little bit of a shock as one might imagine.
The boys had not been on display for anyone but my wife for almost 9 years but let me tell you when it rains it pours.
I reckon more people had a good look at the marble bag that day than if I was doing stunt work for Ron Jeremy on the set of Debbie does Dallas 5. On top of that were all the people who were actually "hands on". For a brief instant I thought I might embarrass myself with all these women handling me, keeping the keel in the right place but then I saw the implements they had in their other hands. The sight of those sharp cutting blades and strange grabbing instruments and even scissors put to rest any possibility of the dragon rising.
I would estimate that in the room there with me would have been about 8 people. Most of them women. There was the actual Surgeon, his Intern or apprentice or what ever he was, the Anaesthesiologist, her assistant or intern or what ever she was, the Nurse, her assistant and then there were two other women who sole job it was to keep the tackle covered in antiseptic or iodine and make sure it all stayed where it should.
The worst part of the whole ordeal however was not the thought of someone applying a knife to my goolies. It was the test that had to be run a few weeks later to ensure the procedure had been effective that had me really cringing.
There is only one way to do the test and that is to get a pathology lab to examine a sample and check for sperm. There is of course only one way to get that sample.
They gave me a cup and told me to "fill'er up"
I won't delve into the details suffice to say I went home, ran my one person race and unsurprisingly finished first.
Sample in hand, my next problem was not knowing how soon after the event they wanted to look at it. I definitely did not want to walk into the pathology lab carrying a cup of my own semen that was still warm. Having them know that I had Tangoed without a partner was bad enough but having them think that I had just five minutes ago come from sticking together the pages of a Playboy was even worse.
So there I sat in the reception of the lab trying desperately to conceal the sordid little package I held while I waited for my turn.
Eventually I was called and was taken into a small office. I told them what I had with me and as I handed it over to her I realised that I had inadvertently warmed it up again with it being in my hands. She then asked me how long ago this was collected to which I sheepishly replied "oh not long ago". She wanted the exact time so I had to tell her it was about 30 mins ago. Thankfully she said that was fine, placed my cup o' man milk on a tray and said that is all they needed for now. I drove home thankful that it was all over.
They called me a week or so later and told me my Doctor had the results. I went in to see him and he gave me the news. There was no sperm in the sample meaning the procedure was a complete success.
My bollacks were now just a trophy of my man hood.
After people find out that I already have two children they often ask, "When is the next one coming?"
When I reply, "two is enough" they often say I might change my mind later down the track. My quite candid response to this is "No I have taken steps to ensure that does not happen"
Yes I have had the chop.
This surprises a lot of people as I am only 27. It even surprised the Specialist my local GP referred me to. When I walked in there and told him I wanted a Vasectomy. He said he would be much more comfortable if I came back and saw him in 3 months in case I changed my mind. He then became the second guy to feel my balls, giving me a quick check for Testicular Cancer. (In case you are wondering the first guy was the Doctor who gave me the required physical exam to get a SCUBA certification). He then took $80 from me for the consultation.
I came back after 3 months and advised him I had not changed my mind. He wrote a date down in his book for it to be done and then asked me for another $80.
The day of the procedure was a little bit of a shock as one might imagine.
The boys had not been on display for anyone but my wife for almost 9 years but let me tell you when it rains it pours.
I reckon more people had a good look at the marble bag that day than if I was doing stunt work for Ron Jeremy on the set of Debbie does Dallas 5. On top of that were all the people who were actually "hands on". For a brief instant I thought I might embarrass myself with all these women handling me, keeping the keel in the right place but then I saw the implements they had in their other hands. The sight of those sharp cutting blades and strange grabbing instruments and even scissors put to rest any possibility of the dragon rising.
I would estimate that in the room there with me would have been about 8 people. Most of them women. There was the actual Surgeon, his Intern or apprentice or what ever he was, the Anaesthesiologist, her assistant or intern or what ever she was, the Nurse, her assistant and then there were two other women who sole job it was to keep the tackle covered in antiseptic or iodine and make sure it all stayed where it should.
The worst part of the whole ordeal however was not the thought of someone applying a knife to my goolies. It was the test that had to be run a few weeks later to ensure the procedure had been effective that had me really cringing.
There is only one way to do the test and that is to get a pathology lab to examine a sample and check for sperm. There is of course only one way to get that sample.
They gave me a cup and told me to "fill'er up"
I won't delve into the details suffice to say I went home, ran my one person race and unsurprisingly finished first.
Sample in hand, my next problem was not knowing how soon after the event they wanted to look at it. I definitely did not want to walk into the pathology lab carrying a cup of my own semen that was still warm. Having them know that I had Tangoed without a partner was bad enough but having them think that I had just five minutes ago come from sticking together the pages of a Playboy was even worse.
So there I sat in the reception of the lab trying desperately to conceal the sordid little package I held while I waited for my turn.
Eventually I was called and was taken into a small office. I told them what I had with me and as I handed it over to her I realised that I had inadvertently warmed it up again with it being in my hands. She then asked me how long ago this was collected to which I sheepishly replied "oh not long ago". She wanted the exact time so I had to tell her it was about 30 mins ago. Thankfully she said that was fine, placed my cup o' man milk on a tray and said that is all they needed for now. I drove home thankful that it was all over.
They called me a week or so later and told me my Doctor had the results. I went in to see him and he gave me the news. There was no sperm in the sample meaning the procedure was a complete success.
My bollacks were now just a trophy of my man hood.
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