The Birds and the Valium

There are two things in retirement a person should NEVER have. A job and another kid.

If you find yourself in another job and think to yourself, “Man, what was I THINKING?”, you can always quit and re-retire. If you find yourself with another kid, there’s really only one thing to say.

FUCK!

As most of you know I’m 43 and retired. I’ve toyed with the idea of re-entering the workforce, specifically in the NASCAR community, but I won’t entertain anything beyond that. Life is too short and if you can retire young, do it. Take it from someone who’s there. It gives you so much freedom and so many options. You can pursue your dream job where you’re 100 percent in control or you can sit on your ass with a bag of Salt and Vinegar Lays potato chips watching Hollywood Squares for 6 months before flipping through the yellow pages looking for a gym.

I can honestly say I have NOT toyed with the idea of having another child. That is simply NOT an option. Nor will it give me anything resembling freedom. If I ended up with one I think I’d throw myself down the stairs.

Several times.

So there’s really only one option. Well, two if count crossing your fingers. Get the “procedure”. At 43 I opted for the latter. If I find myself in another dead end job then I quit. Not so easy with a kid. So having this vasectomy done prevents that momentary lapse of reason that could easily come tomorrow or when I’m 70 and have no idea what the hell I’m thinking.

Needless to say, in this moment of clarity, while I have all my faculties, I’m essentially saving myself should I even THINK about another child. I guess you could say I’m slapping myself in the head right now for something I’m going to do in the future.

Pretzle logic. Powerful.

So first comes the easy part. The consultation with the Doctor. When Allison and I walked in with the Doctor I can honestly say he was the nicest person I’ve ever met in my life. He had this way through his southern drawl of making you feel extremely comfortable and at ease. We chatted a bit, not even talking about the procedure and then he said he’d schedule me for an appointment.

It must have been the look on our faces that said, “The hell with more kids”, because he didn’t even give us the “Are you sure”? speech.

The two easy parts were now complete. The decision to do it and the consultation where I thought I'd have to write a 10 page essay of why it's not smart for me to have more children.

Now the process got a little more difficult. First off, the prep work. Shaving. I experimented once waxing my chest and that didn't go so well. I don't know how girls do it in their bikini area just so a little hair doesn't sneak out from underneath their bottom half but there was no way in hell hot wax was going to touch the boys so I had to do it the old fashion way. Razor and shaving cream.

First off, when I put on the shaving cream I couldn't see what the hell I was doing. Everything was covered up in white lather so I had to guess. Luckily I was slow and methodical as I made my way down ensuring every little hair was gone. I really didn't want to go in with a wiener mohawk so I took my time and was very proud that I was successful. One little nick would have sent me through the roof or at least crashing into the bathroom mirror.

The second thing I was proud of was the fact that I learned my lesson from the chest session. Absolutely NO aftershave for the razor burn. So I got into my big old bathtub to wash off the area of the session with warm water.

I would have been better off with the aftershave. SHIT that burned. I didn't have any raised razor burn but my pores didn't appreciate the water either. Maybe aloe would have been better but I wasn't about to make another mess to clean up so I dealt with it.

Well, today was the big day. I showed up promptly, coffee in hand and valium in my pocket so I'd lay still and act cool.

It was almost time for me to go in so I popped a pill (ok, several) just as the nurse called me in. I've been poked and prodded so many times with my back that nothing really scared me. This was probably going to be an easier procedure so I had that going for me.

We entered the "panic room" where the nurse proceeded to take my blood pressure, weight and height. What any of that had to do with a vasectomy puzzled me but I guess it's easier to get the information ready for the coroner when you finally decide death is a better option.

She threw a gown on the table and said, "go ahead and change out of your clothes and put on the gown. The doctor will be in shortly". Nurse exits the room.

Now guys, I'm going to apologize for letting the women in on a little secret. It's basically kryptonite to men that will get us every single time so forgive me.

Hand a man something he has to tie behind his back and he's screwed. I spent the better part of 10 minutes trying to tie this fucking gown and my arms were behind my back and weren't coming out front until I got the damn chore done. It was kind of like putting a banana in a coconut and handing it to a monkey. Once their hand is in the coconut hole with banana in hand, they absolutely will not let go of the banana basically trapping them with a coconut hand.

Their was a knock on the door while I was futzing with the gown and he said, "Aw, don't worry about that. Just hop up on the table, lay on your back in a position where you're comfortable. Thank God. That gown thing just wasn't going to happen.

I was so happy to see him because, again, he was the nicest person on the planet. We chatted a bit while he got his little tray set up. I'm trying not to look at any of the instruments and the valium starts to kick in so my heart rate slows and now I'm very comfortable. This is going to be way easier than I thought.

He told me it's only going to take about 15 minutes and I'd be on my way. Cool. I've had worse 15 minute experiences in my life so I knew I could hack this.

In the middle of our chatting there's another knock at the door. I'm on my back, I turn my head, and in walks this extremely pretty nurse. So I thought.

"This is Doctor so-and-so and she wanted to see how the procedure is done since she's never seen one. You don't mind, right"?

Pregnant pause.

"No, I don't mind at all" as the word SHIT enters my mind about 32 times. As she walks down toward my legs my balls crawl all the way up to my stomach. Good luck finding the boys now, doc. I wasn't prepared for an audience and a pretty one at that. Had I known, perhaps I would have put some cologne down there.

"OK, I'm going to expose your modesty so just relax", the Doctor says as he pulls up my gown exposing my freshly shaved crotch. Thank GOD I didn't hear a giggle.

We get started. The Doctor explains every single step to me before doing it so I know what to expect. How courteous. First he tells me he's going to insert a needle and I'll feel a burning sensation. That's the numbing agent. All the while he's talking to me, he's explaining to miss cute Doctor what he's doing and what she's going to have to do. It's all medical speak and I'm closing my ears with my mind.

Didn't work.

In goes the needle. In my head goes FUCK! Needle my ass. What the hell are you doing putting a crow bar in my nuts? Yes it burned but I tried desperately not to wince. I didn't want miss cute Doctor to think I was a puss. He pulls the needle out and the area finally goes numb.

Cool. Now he can do whatever he wants because I can't feel a thing. He tells me I might feel a little tugging sensation while he's yanking everything through this little pinhole he just made.

What? You're getting all of that out of THAT little hole? Now I know how women feel when the have a 9lb baby about to crawl out of their Va-jay-jay. A new found respect washes over me.

He does his little "procedure" on one side, all the while giving the instructions to cute Doctor. After he cuts the portion out that he needs I feel a pinching sensation as he clamps both sides with a titanium clip. This apparently prevents mother nature from trying to rejoin the vas.

Side one finished. Whew. Not too bad. Still no giggling and the valium is letting the boys drop a little farther south. Time for the other side. Same deal, same feeling, same instructions and same 32 SHIT!'s go through my head.

As he's working on this side he comments to cute Doctor, "wow, this one is really slippery", like it's a fucking trout or something. He keeps trying to get ahold of it and I'm praying to GOD that she doesn't decide to "help".

He finally gets the vas out, snips out a larger chunk and impresses cute Doctor as he tells her that the more you can get, the better success you'll have. Two titanium clips later, gauze on the boys and the experience is over.

"We're finished", he said. "Do you have any questions? You did a great job. You didn't even move once. Most guys wiggle around and I can't get it done".

"Are those titanium clips going to set off the detector at the airport"?, I ask.

"No, I don't think so. I've never heard a story of that happening".

Nice. My luck BLOWS so I guarantee that when I go to the airport I'm going to set it off. I'll be pulled aside by some asshole TSA agent, they'll wand me and it will beep right in front of my balls. I won't know what to tell them but if they put their hands down my pants I'm going to pee on them.

"OK, you can hop off the table, get dressed and check out. Nice job"! Again, SUPER nice guy. Asshole for bringing in a chick but I quickly forgive him as she thanks me for allowing her to "observe". Personally I think she just wanted to see a weenie as I never heard a peep out of her but whatever. Not like she hasn't seen one.

I did see a camera flash go off, though.

That or it was my life passing before my eyes.

I hopped down, removed that freakin' evil gown and got dressed. Tender but not bad. Not swollen, not bruised, just some gauze stuffed in there so now I look pretty damn manly as I walk out. Too bad the waiting room was full of people over the age of 70.

I process out, waddle to my car, gingerly get in and off I go. I'm home within an hour. I feel pretty good until the numbness starts to wear off. Now I know why the ice comes in. He said just to put a bag of frozen peas on the boys to prevent the swelling.

Peas.

Oh, the irony.