Now it can be told…
(Amusing stuff, at least in my opinion, but under a cut for medical TMI and reader mercy)
Yesterday morning I went over to the OHSU clinic and had myself neutered. It’s not a vas deferens from before, but enough to keep me from ever being a 60-something (or older) high school dad. The timing of this had more to do with my insurance burn rate than anything else, frankly.
So there I was, lying largely nude on a table under a bright light while three enthusiastic gentlemen with sharp pointy objects rummaged around Where Man Was Not Meant To Go.
I said to the attending physician, “This will be the most fun I have all week.” His response, “Wow, am I sorry for you.” I didn’t even get a full Brazilian out of the deal, just a refreshing wipe down.
A few other high points…
The most unpleasant part of the whole business were the injections of local anesthetic. Talk about your sharp pointy objects in the wrooooong place.
OHSU is a teaching institution, so my gentlemen were the attending physician, the resident and a med student. This meant the entire procedure was narrated in detail, with various exploratory movements and teachable moments, and the odd bit of language confusion. Just what you want to hear all about.
Then there was the accidental clamping of a certain sensitive portion lying between the twin locii of medical attention, which had not been anesthetized. I kicked like a frog. This is a bad idea when the boys are rummaging around inside your wedding tackle.
After that we had “Ooops!” followed by muttered cursing. I looked up and asked what the problem was. (Avoiding a consternated affect in the interests of surgical amity.) “Well, we lost one end.” So they went fishing down inside. That’s the side that ached more later, too.
Mostly though, it was boring. Future generations of me shall ever be denied, but I wound up wishing I’d brought my iPhone onto the operating table so I could play Sudoku or read my email. I mean, they didn’t even give me Valium. Since then I’ve been sitting on frozen peas, at least until they became crotch-warmed peas and went back into the freezer. The bags are getting pretty mushy, too.
Once the surgery was done, the medical personnel vacated and left me alone in the room with the used instrument tray. In the interests of science and future writing research, I took some rather TMI photos, some of which are a bit arty. If you’re interested in that sort of thing (work-safe, just very icky), here they are. You Have Been Warned.
I’m off sex, masturbation and bicycling until next week. This pretty much knocks off three of my four primary forms of physical exercise, but it’s a small price to pay for the gift of sterility.