I probably shouldn’t tell you about my husband’s experience. He had complications and missed 2 weeks of work, spent a night in the hospital, and was in a decent amount of pain for well over a month. I probably shouldn’t tell you about the puddles of blood we were cleaning off the bathroom floor and out of his car from right afterward either, since that was part of the complication and not normal, and therefore nothing you should worry about.
(Seriously, his doctor said that those complications were extremely uncommon.)
Though in an interesting conversation with my friends we discussed a hypothetical utopia where all males are given vasectomies in their youth and apply for licenses to get the procedure corrected later in life.
A friend reports with conviction that the day after the vasectomy is a bad day to drag a balled Christmas tree into the living room and set it up. By “balled Christmas tree” I mean with the big ball of dirt and burlap on it, so it can be planted afterwards. Though, by accounts, that’s kind of what my friend looked like the day AFTER the day after the vasectomy.
Pretty much. I thought “balls” in the title may be frowned upon.
So, procedure is over, and while it wasn’t pleasant, it wasn’t anything to really be that nervous about. Two shots in the sack and some unsettling tugging sensations. And the obligatory hot nurse to make sure my junk was shaved.
Thanks for the advice and words of encouragement, all.
I think I’ll pass on living, then. I’ve seen smoke issuing from my own fingertips, does that count?
I hope you have an ice pack in your lap at all times. From what I’ve heard, this can make the difference between a quick recovery and a painful recovery.
I like to play with fire. Among other things, this involves pushing bits of candlewax into the pool of molten wax of a lit candle. On a couple of occasions, when I’ve had long painted nails, my nails have caught fire. Burning fingernails smell dreadful, as does burning hair.
It really wasn’t that bad. Not great, obviously, but nowhere near as bad as you think a literal shot to the nuts would be. You’d think it’d be excruciating, but it’s not. I think “Ouch moments” like **Algher **said was a very good description. Not “OUCH! SWEET JESUS, JUST KILL ME! I CAN’T BEAR THE PAIN!” but just “Ouch” with a touch of “Ew. I’m getting a shot in my scrotum.” It’s really just the sack, and not actually your balls, anyway. And my doctor did give me something to relax me, though no pain pills afterwards.
(Quick side note: When I got my wisdom teeth out, I had one of the best nights of my life. I was eating bloody mashed potatoes, watching a Dukes of Hazzard reunion, high as a kite on pain pills and loving life. But this time, they just told me to take Tylenol. C’est la vie.)
There are far worst parts. Listening to my wife tell me how much more difficult giving birth was, going to the gynecologist is, and pretty much everything that includes women going to the doctor, and therefore, getting little to no sympathy hasn’t been great. Shaving my scrotum was also pretty bad. I’ve nicked myself shaving before, but never my wrinkled little buddies down below. But again, for me it was a lot of “Oh my God. I’m shaving my balls. I’m taking a razor to one of the most sensitive parts of my body.” So it was very disturbing, but hardly painful.
And having the pretty nurse pull a jockstrap on me was very unpleasant. Well, unpleasant-ish.
But I’ve got to sit on my ass for quite some time now and I’ve got quite a bit of reading done (and movie watching, of course). And I currently have my laptop resting on my ice pack resting on my nuts. And my children love being my little nursemaids, I bet.
Frankly, I feel a little silly for being SO nervous about it.
Oh, and I did get to bring my iPod. I had planned on listening to The Bugle, but I was afraid that I would laugh outloud, thus causing the doctor to sever one of my boys entirely, so I listened to Tweaker instead.