Kafka2
Whale-raping abomination
- Joined
- Oct 30, 2001
- Messages
- 1,204
So let's set the scene. I'm currently lying on my back on a treatment bench, set in a Health Centre in the grotty end of town. My underpants are around my ankles, and the doctor is about to lay his hands on me for the first time. Being confused by the conflicting information on whether I should shave my tackle beforehand or not, I had compromised with a light trim. The doctor doesn't appear to care either way. Obviously I'm affecting a bluff and manly manner at this point, and fighting a nervous reaction to start talking about brutal contact sports.
My friend Chug said the most unnerving part of his vasectomy was having another man manhandling his genitals. As the doctor starts lifting and rearranging things whilst swabbing me down, I realise that I'm really not bothered by this in the slightest. Maybe I'm just gayer than the average bear. Whatever. Anyway, he's covered the area in green paper, and has tugged my bollocks through a hole in it. Now he's pinching at my scrotum to see if he can find the vas. He finds it and looks pleased. For some unaccountable reason that makes me feel proud.
Anaesthetic time. The first one is into the scrotum, and it's just a minor pricking sensation- no worse than the sort of thing you get at the dentist. No sweat.
The next injection is into the vas itself- the spermatic cords. Holy. ****ing. Christ.
Imagine a sensation like a corkscrew, colder than liquid helium, boring down into your testicle, upwards into your rapidly-shrinking cock, and backwards into your prostate. Rrrrrrrrrrrrr. Toes curling up. Doctor asks if I'm OK, and I say that I'm fine (in a shaky voice).
OK, everything's numb now. There now follows about five minutes of rummaging around, a few "shick!" sounds, and about ten seconds of a nasty hissing noise. Then the doctor announces "Right, let's do the other one".
No need for a second incision- instead he just does a sort of juggling act inside my scrotum and rearranges the spuds. Then it's time for the second vas injection. Holy. ****ing. Christ. Again. Doctor asks if I'm OK, and I say that I'm fine (in another shaky voice).
More juggling. More "shick!" sounds, and about ten seconds of another nasty hissing noise. Then it's done. An adhesive dressing is applied, my Calvin Kleins are stuffed with wadding, and I'm asked to spend the next 15 minutes sitting in the waiting room, in case my nuts fall off and go bouncing across the floor while the typically English crowd in the room pretend nothing is happening. Or something.
My entire genital area is numb. Here's a funny thing- in 36 years of life I've never once considered how basically uncomfortable it is having a set of male genitalia hanging around and getting in the way.Now, for the first time, I am liberated. For the first time, I can sit around with feeling the need to untangle or shift things. How curious to start envying eunuchs.
The drive home gets interesting as the anaesthetic wears off. The rest of the evening is spent with my feet up, waddling around, and trying to have a wee without moving the padding (which is not easy). With every cough I am reminded that I have suffered a genital injury. I'm popping paracetamol and trying not to move.
What I can expect is about seven days of decreasing discomfort. Unless I get an infection. Or if I get cocky and overdo the exertion, in which case I'll get a scrotal heamatoma causing my bollocks to swell up to twice their size and turn black. **** that.
My friend Chug said the most unnerving part of his vasectomy was having another man manhandling his genitals. As the doctor starts lifting and rearranging things whilst swabbing me down, I realise that I'm really not bothered by this in the slightest. Maybe I'm just gayer than the average bear. Whatever. Anyway, he's covered the area in green paper, and has tugged my bollocks through a hole in it. Now he's pinching at my scrotum to see if he can find the vas. He finds it and looks pleased. For some unaccountable reason that makes me feel proud.
Anaesthetic time. The first one is into the scrotum, and it's just a minor pricking sensation- no worse than the sort of thing you get at the dentist. No sweat.
The next injection is into the vas itself- the spermatic cords. Holy. ****ing. Christ.
Imagine a sensation like a corkscrew, colder than liquid helium, boring down into your testicle, upwards into your rapidly-shrinking cock, and backwards into your prostate. Rrrrrrrrrrrrr. Toes curling up. Doctor asks if I'm OK, and I say that I'm fine (in a shaky voice).
OK, everything's numb now. There now follows about five minutes of rummaging around, a few "shick!" sounds, and about ten seconds of a nasty hissing noise. Then the doctor announces "Right, let's do the other one".
No need for a second incision- instead he just does a sort of juggling act inside my scrotum and rearranges the spuds. Then it's time for the second vas injection. Holy. ****ing. Christ. Again. Doctor asks if I'm OK, and I say that I'm fine (in another shaky voice).
More juggling. More "shick!" sounds, and about ten seconds of another nasty hissing noise. Then it's done. An adhesive dressing is applied, my Calvin Kleins are stuffed with wadding, and I'm asked to spend the next 15 minutes sitting in the waiting room, in case my nuts fall off and go bouncing across the floor while the typically English crowd in the room pretend nothing is happening. Or something.
My entire genital area is numb. Here's a funny thing- in 36 years of life I've never once considered how basically uncomfortable it is having a set of male genitalia hanging around and getting in the way.Now, for the first time, I am liberated. For the first time, I can sit around with feeling the need to untangle or shift things. How curious to start envying eunuchs.
The drive home gets interesting as the anaesthetic wears off. The rest of the evening is spent with my feet up, waddling around, and trying to have a wee without moving the padding (which is not easy). With every cough I am reminded that I have suffered a genital injury. I'm popping paracetamol and trying not to move.
What I can expect is about seven days of decreasing discomfort. Unless I get an infection. Or if I get cocky and overdo the exertion, in which case I'll get a scrotal heamatoma causing my bollocks to swell up to twice their size and turn black. **** that.
