I originally began writing a follow up to Pre-snip ramblings just hours after going through with the procedure, but it turns out that a lot of Vicodin will kill your writing motivation. Apparently, it killed it for a few weeks and once I returned to life, I’ve been struggling to find the mental (and emotional) energy to re-live the whole experience.
Yet, I feel that it is my responsibility. My duty. I must share.
My friend and business partner was kind enough to offer to give me a ride to the appointment and home after. He was also kind enough to lighten the mood by putting on An Angry Inch as we pulled into the parking lot.
We walked into the urology clinic and immediately felt out of place. I’m pretty sure that I was the only one there getting a vasectomy at that precise time. The other gentlemen were likely having trouble urinating and/or getting their prostates checked out. (i think urologists do that?) I guess what I’m trying to say… is… that I was the youngest person in there by probably 30 years. Everyone was probably twice my age. Seriously. I felt out of place immediately.
Anyhow, I had all my paperwork ready, they asked me to sit down and that’s when I popped the question to the lady behind the counter, “so, about the anxiety drugs you can give me before the procedure?”
I was met with a blank stare. She looked towards her coworker, then back at me, and uttered, “the doctor can help you with that.”
Hmm. Fair enough, I’ll just sit in the waiting room… and let my anxiety continue to skyrocket.
Ten minutes later, they called my name. As the nurse walked me back towards a bigger room where they must perform procedures on folks. I glanced around at the sterile and cold room… lots of metal.. .lots of shiny objects… lots of sterile pads. She instructed me to take my shoes and pants off… that I could leave my shirt and socks on and take a seat on the table. Shit, this was really happening.
“So… about the anxiety pills that the welcome packet you sent me in the mail said I could ask about?”
Again, met with a blank stare.
“Oh, you need to call ahead to have us order you a prescription.”
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?”… I wanted to shout.
As you can see in the following photo, it CLEARLY states that if I’m nervous, that I may be given some medication to help me relax.
Despite my efforts to protest this false advertising, she said that was how it worked. She left the room for me to undress… and my anxiety went to a whole new level.
Up until this point, I was nervous… very nervous, but I was finding some comfort knowing that they would give me something to relax. Once that comfort was removed from the picture, I began to have second thoughts. “Shit, should I reschedule?”
The room was extremely chilly. Sitting in just a shirt and a pair of designer socks wasn’t providing me with a lot of personal confidence at this point.
I was anxious, disappointed, and cold. My mind began racing back and forth on bailing, but I kept trying to remind myself, “dude, you made it this far. suck it up. you have to do this.” As I sat there contemplating how I’d explain this to my friend… the doctor walked in.
“How are you doing today?”
I vaguely recall responding with something like, “well, I’ve been better. I was kind of hoping to get some medication to calm my nerves and it doesn’t sound like you guys can help me out with that today.”
Secretly, I hoped that he had a secret stash of valium to share.
“Nope. I’m sorry, we have to put in a prescription ahead of time for that.”
Again, I pointed out that their preparation packet was filled with fucking lies and I was disappointed.
“Don’t worry, everyone who does this is anxious. It’s perfectly natural. You’re expected to be nervous… after all, we’re working in a very sensitive area.”
“NO SHIT YOU FUCKWAD, I WANT DRUGS!!!!”… I screamed… in my inner voice. My outer voice mumbled something about false advertising. (yes, I realize that I’m being unfair to him… but I wasn’t being very rationale at the time…)
He then said, “go ahead and lay back for me. I’m going to take a quick look here before we begin. So, maybe you can tell me what you do for a living?”
I informed him that… I was not in the mood for smalltalk.
Let’s take a moment to reflect on a happier time in our lives. Lalalalala…
I’m going to spare you the gritty details of the actual procedure, but if you decide (and I think you probably should!)… take the following advice.
Prescriptions — call ahead
Given my experience, I can’t help but suggest that you call them ahead to find out about anxiety medicine. Get a prescription if you’re nervous. While I’m not going into details, the experience wasn’t relaxing. I don’t know if medicine would have made it totally better, but I wasn’t a happy camper during the procedure.
Also, given that you’ll likely get a prescription for pain medicine (ie., Vicodin!), you might ask if they can put that prescription in earlier so that you can pick up everything before the appointment.
More Anesthetic, Please!
They’ll give you a shot of anesthetic. The night before my appointment, I read an article from a guy who did this a while back and he suggested that when they ask, “can you feel this” that you should always say, “yes, I can.” They’ll give you another small dose of anesthetic. Always err on the side of being too numb versus not enough.
I’m glad that I took this advice, because it paid off after the appointment. The Walgreens on NE 33rd was (I’m noticing a trend there) horribly backed up on fulfilling prescriptions. Despite my prescription getting called in 90 minutes earlier, they said it’d take another 30-45 minutes. I’m standing there, my underwear filled with sterile pads, completely numb down there… and I have to kill 30-45 minutes? I walked through the parking lot to New Seasons and wandered around aimlessly… filling my small basket with junk food and treats. Time to treat myself, right?
I got my Vicodin and went home to relax. After a few hours, the anesthetic began to fade away and that’s when I realized just how painful it was going to be for a few days. The Vicodin helped, but the best help was alternating a couple packages of frozen peas to reduce the bruising/swelling.
The next few days are a bit of a blur. There was a lot of Netflix and Vicodin. I was eventually able to be productive and start working remotely again. I did it on a thursday, thinking that I’d take Friday off and be good enough to return on Monday. I think returning on Monday was a bit of a stretch, but I managed to do it. By Wednesday, I took my motorcycle for a spin. By the weekend, I had someone help me confirm that things still worked.
The next step is to wait 90 days and then take a sperm test. At that point, they’ll confirm that everything worked.
In the weeks that have passed since the procedure, I’ve begun to feel more and more confident that I did the right thing. While I wish there were less uncomfortable solutions, it was the best option that I had available.
Having said that, they seriously need to revise their preparation packets.