ok, so by now you know that I have the 2 kids, they do have real names, but for the purposes of this story, just like my cats, I'll refer to them as "B@stard" and "Sh*t-head"
When the last one arrived (it was a joyous day that I'll remember always) I (we.. but I) decided I'd get "fixed", "Spayed", "Clamped" however you want to refer to it, I was being done.... like I say, Love them to bits, but enough was enough, and having a TV in every room in the house didn’t seem to stop whatever it was happening that was happening (I blame "Sexcetera" myself!)
We went to the Doctors, with them both as it happens (the youngest, "Shit-head" in her carry thingy, and had my Talk with the Doctors... it didn’t take him long to sign off on the paperwork and say he'd refer me; it might have had something to do with me sobbing uncontrollably as my other angel "B@stard" was bouncing up and down on the weighing scales, and tugging on the Doctors "Stethoscope" (I had told the Doctor to take it off when we went into his room!)
A matter of days later (boy he delivered on that one!) I got an invitation for a "Counseling" session at the local Abattoir in Runcorn (I believe it used to be a Vetinary clinic as well?)
Now, I'm not quite sure why they call it a "Counseling" session really, I wasn’t depressed or anything... they might have been after they met me, but I believe it’s so that they can gauge how serious you are about this, and that you do indeed want to end any chance of having more little darlings (apparently its almost impossible to be un-done, but as far as I was concerned they could take my balls away, unfortunately they declined and told my wife she could have them as "ear-rings" afterwards - she reminded them that she already had them in her bag, and duly handed them over!
Thankfully, that was all I needed to do, just look JOYOUS and be extremely Adamant (holding them by the throat while they signed the "Go Go Go" sheet seemed to do the trick!)
A month or so later (A VERRRRRRRRY long month) I went to the surgery to be Fixed...
Now... those Men out there who've had this done, will know this personal pre-grooming procedure that’s to come, those who haven’t, you might want to stop reading at this point (cos it’s all downhill from here!)
The "Home" Shave
The ladies out there will be laughing their Tits off at this point, as they "claim" to have to do this constantly for US, but I can tell you, I don’t believe for one minute that you will end up looking like "Z-Z-Top" or "Captain Caveman" if they don’t do this!
Men.... you have to Shave your testicles completely bald for the operation, and also (as I missed) your Inner thighs. IF you Don't do this, then one of the "Russian Shot-putter" female nurses they have working in these butchers, will do it for you, but there won’t be any of those nice expensive "grooming product" creams, or after shave balms that you all like when THEY do it, Noooooo!
...they DRY SHAVE you, and with a cheap Crappy BIC razor that they have hundreds of (from the local 'Pound Shop'), and they do it at break-neck speed as well, remember... these girls are working "piece-meal", they get paid by the "Ball-Sack"
When you get to the clinic, on D-Day, your ushered into a quiet room first; on my visit, I was the only one there (in THAT room anyway), and I wasn’t kept long before I was called in (my sphincter wasn’t quite sealed up at this time, as I knew this wasn’t "the room"), this was the pre-op meeting....
A nice old lady (like my Gran) talked to me for a few minutes, offered me a drink of water (she must have noticed I was beginning to get dry-mouthed) to make sure I absolutely-positively wanted to go ahead with this "minor" operation... as the "counselor" had said to me some weeks before "A Vasectomy is a very small (and quick) operation in actuality, However.... its BIG in a Mans mind"
She got me to sign some last sheets of paper, "disclaimer" (in case my penis fell off as well, that sort of thing) and a "Last Will & Testament" (not that I could POSSIBLY have been assured of "Being in Sound mind and body" by any means at this stage) and then explained the contents of the package that I was then passed... a Jiffy Bag
Now, the Jiffy Bag contains a number of items:
The Condoms (which confused the sh*t out of me for a moment) were there, well... for sex obviously, and this lady (Gran) took great delight in explaining that "When... you’re up-to sex, you should have it as often as possibly (I particularly liked that part) BUT...... should wear condoms, because albeit your knackers have been severed from their "Wing Man" so-to-speak, they’re still out to get you and you'll be as fertile as the 'Nappa Valley' just when you didn’t want to be."
Now, when I had the Vasectomy, I was initially told I'd have to have 2 "Jizz" tests done; the first at 4 months and another sometime after that (I forget) but when it came down to it, I only had to do the one, and... it had to be a morning test (not great when you have work & kids to get up) reason for only 1 - I suspect Cut-backs (excuse the pun)
*) Rubber Gloves
Not even going into that! (I went in for a Vasectomy, not a Proctology, albeit, I can now touch my toes and sing "Moon River" in C Minor)
*) Pre-printed stationary with various dates and "to be Signed here" forms
Forms to consent to having your Knackers chopped, and also letter to be filled out and enclosed in the return Jiffy Bag with.....
*) A small container
So... At 4 months (or 16 weeks or 119 days or 2856 hours or 171360 minutes, depending on how desperate you were for the "ALL CLEAR!"), you’re supposed to (when your able to piss without fainting) have sex as often as possible, but then, in a clinical manner, and (urgh!) squeeze out the condom, into the SMALL container (I think this is where the Rubber Gloves come in... shame they didn’t provide a Childs Bib and Welding Mask!)
*) A slightly bigger container
Once you've emptied the contents (not that I'm bragging or anything) into the SMALL container and err.... wiped up, you then put the small container into a bigger container. Now you have to make sure your all done and properly here, cos these containers don’t come back open very easily (Queue second Bib & Welding Mask)
*) Pre-Addressed (back to them) Jiffy Bag
for the return journey of your "Liquid Gold"
The Waiting Room
Ok.... pre-op meeting over, I was told to go down the corridor, and take a seat in the "Departure Lounge", I was told I'd not have a problem finding it, as there’d probably be sobbing coming from that direction
Me and the missus walked into a 'dimly lit' room (I panicked at this point, thinking this was where the "procedures" took place, alas not... it was filled with (mostly) couples, but some single blokes as well. I suspect mostly couples as they "Partners" were well looking forwards to this, in fact, if they’d been able to sell tickets, I suspect we'd have oversold "Take-That" for female fans.
The room was quite large, and all the chairs faced a wall, with about 4 or 5 doors in it, those must be "The Rooms"...
Looking around this waiting room, there was a definitive 3 group split:
1) "Couples Waiting"
2) "Single Women Waiting"
3) "Après Couples..." 1 Female sitting "Smug" with their respective partner in a state of Shock, knowing something’s missing, but just not able to put a finger on it (for obvious reasons)
I was initiialy with the "Couples Waiting" group, me being me (and trying to delay the impending thoughts of the inevitable) was laughing and joking as I usually do, with some men laughing with me in appreciation, and others in that "Rocking back and forth muttering 'we're doomed, doomed' zone" completely oblivious to me along with their respective "female" partners, reading "Heat" magazine and giggling uncontrollably...
The "Single Women Waiting" group were obviously in that state where they’d let their little ones go off into the "room", sat looking longingly at them as they waived them off dismissive, and then picking up their "Heat" magazines again, while dunking digestives into their cuppas
whereas the "Après Couples" were now, NOT reading, and NOT dunking, but asking in that caring way "Did it hurt baby?" and "Can I do anything?" (SERIOUSLY!?) whereas their partners were NOW realising what that "distant" look was that the other blokes in their group had when they'd first clapped eyes on the poor buggers!
Mr. Eastham??? Mr. Eastham Please!
The room went silent, I may have farted a little ("Oh Sh*t, I hope I didn’t follow through, my undies will be off in a moment and that would be awful")
A door was open, and a nurse was stood "provocatively" in the opening, I tried to picture the same scene on the Red Light District row in Amsterdam... but it didn’t come!
I walked in, the door shut behind me and I was asked to remove my trousers... (I thought to myself, "at least by me a drink first you scarlet woman" but again, the thoughts weren’t there...
At this point, it’s worth mentioning that I'd seen quite a few women on this day so far (and more were to come) but only ONE out of the dozen or so I had seen, were attractive in any way... this 'may' be intentional, as I suspect, an erection, mid procedure would not be a good thing, a jittery surgeons hand or a cough and BLAM, it Really is ALL OVER!
I removed my pants and lay down on the surgery table, it was more like a pasting table with some crappy blue kitchen roll on it in all honesty, but I was beginning to hyperventilate, and didn’t really take in much of what was going on...
"Have you Shaved yourself" I was asked...
"Aye, I have M'am" I thought I'd show her some respect, she would as it happens, have a scalpel in her hand momenterily... a bit of poking, moving of my Man-hood from side-to-side, and a deep sigh followed....
I quickly summoned up a voice "I'm not at my best ya know?" thinking that would break the ice - like that would matter, albeit there was a giggle, but I try to console myself in that it was my statement rather than my present state of "flaccidity"
"I'm going to have to finish you off" was her reply
(now... in a perfect world that would have been an Awesome thing to bestow on me, but alas, there was no movement from "Mini-Me" and I just wasn’t in the right place for that)
Now while this was going on, I was trying to distract myself from reality by looking around the room, much like "Kidnap Victims" do to try and remember as much about their Prisons.... This room had about 9 roof tiles (so that was gonna be a b*tch when I came to count), only 3 walls, one being the door wall I'd just come through behind my head, 2 either side of me - all of which were literally about 7 feet high, and they didn’t reach the ceiling, and then the facing wall, was in fact a full width curtain, with constant movement as people came in and out (usually women)
Because of this lack in height, I then started to take in the sounds around me... and I worked out that I was in the middle of a number of similar "Booths’", and the one to the right of me had the procedure taking place... RIGHT NOW.... I heard everything!
BOLLOX - this is the point I remember that the "counselor" had told me that "If you have an iPod, bring it, either that or a set of Cymbals that you can CLANG repeatedly either side of your head!"
In and out came nurses, I suspect they all had camera-phones and were taking pictures of my "erectile dysfunction", there was also a moment that I'll never forget, where the "surgical instruments tray" was passed across my line of sight... "HOW MANY F*CKING SCALPELS & SCISSORS DO THEY NEED?"
There was silence.... I heard a mumbling from next door... had I passed out?.... had it all been done while I was 'resting'?
Nope.... my curtains were whipped open, and there he was.....
(I SH*T You Not!)
I may have let out a 'squeak', there were more giggles and 2 more nurses came in... "Oh for the love of God!" I thought to myself, you wait for one nurse, and a bus-load arrive at the same time...
The procedure itself, lasts less than 8 minutes at the most (quite Ironic really if you think about it), it starts with some anesthetic injections into your Nads; Harold spoke softly (much as I'd heard he had on the News to his victims) and whispered something like "Your going to feel a little Prick"
"Again.... I thought.... NOT AT MY BEST!" but as I was biting my tongue (or was it a stick?) the words just didn’t come out...
I'll Flash-forward now, otherwise your likely to never want this doing yourself!
So.... some minutes later after much tugging, "clipping", wiping of my "Man Area", shaking of heads (more giggles!?!?!?!) and a pondering look from Harold (perhaps admiring his work?) he said "and... your done!" and walked off, the last I saw of him was a "Swoosh" of Curtain, off to his next Victim... and I heard the same words he'd just been lecturing to me to someone else.
A brief moment of silence, a stillness if you will and she was back... "The Bitch with the BIC"
she wiped me some more (Christ woman, how much fluid can I have lost?), packed my Nads in Sanitary towels, pulled up my Support Undies, and my Tracksuit bottoms and told me to stay there for a few moments... "To Compose Myself", but... gave a subtle warning, that the anesthetic (the little Prick) would last for about an hour, but to be gentle as any "Bangs" to my Nether-regions would be kept on a shelf for me for when the anesthetic wore off and come back ten-fold... Nice!
"Hmm.... that feels ok, albeit a slightly heavy feeling in my stomach, but not too bad, not too bad at all..."
I opened the door, and there was my "Beloved"....."The love of my life"....."My TORMENTOR!"
she did ask me if I wanted a cuppa, which was nice, then when I nodded (my voice was still in a bucket somewhere with my balls I think) that I did want one, she pointed to the coffee/tee and biscuit tray on the other side of the room, raised her "Heat" magazine and giggled (Bitch!)
Now, again for those who are planning on having this done, and those of you who will NOT be being operated under General Anesthetic (i.e. Knocked out) Yes... Gents... there are places out there that do this for you, now me being an ex-Navy Seal, of course I went for the "Double'Ard Bastard" option and remained conscious throughout, Once you've had the procedure done, you have to stay in the Waiting room, with all the other "Geldings" for another half hour... am not sure if this is to REALLY have the Females in our lives to poke fun at us, or more that we have to be checked to make sure were not bleeding to death silently.
30 minutes went by, VERY SLOWLY, and I bow bore witness to how the other 2 groups in the room passed the time, it’s not pretty, and I may have thrown a coffee mug at one of the Jokers in the room (B@stard!) HA! I knew what he was going to be getting in a short while Sucker!
I was called into another room again to have my dressings checked and redone. This was not at all pleasant again, and if you thought that the other women were vicious, then this one was the Queen-Bee; no sooner had I walked into the room, ready to give my usual "ice-breaker" show, when I was pulled to her (she was sat down) her head was at my groin level (sigh! if only!) and my Undies were Yanked (YES YANKED) down, "Phil and the Twins" were lifted, waggled and cleansed again (and it STUNG LIKE SHIT!), padding replaced, pants up and thrust out the door
The Honeymoons Over
The drive home, as you'd expect, was a somber one, I felt not too bad, no pain, but, I had been molested, many times over, and not one of them gave me a pat on the head (either of them!)
We got home, and then I started to take my 2 hourly paracetamol.... my friends..... should I be Brave and go-without and risk what might come, or should I be safe.... SAFE WON!
I was told to make sure it kept clean, the stitches would just disappear over the next weeks or so (not that you could see anything) and that I should keep a bag of peas in the freezer at all times, and regularly wrap them around my Goulies over the next few days..
What they don’t tell you is.....
Before the few weeks is over, or the Frozen Peas do their Job, is that you will need to go Pee!
Now, Having a Pee when you’ve had a Vasectomy is not the easiest of tasks.... because the minute you pull down your "supporting undergarments" Gravity takes a hold of your Plumbs and Pulls them down to the floor like a Bull Mastiff!
I had to sit for the 2nd Pee (the first I don’t remember, I think I passed out and all I can say is "Thank God for Lino!"
...and the reason sitting is the thing to do, is that with one hand, you can "Cup" the Twins.... Take Note... "Cup NOT Grip!"
The Test (a.k.a "Tell me it was all Worth It?!")
4 months (or 16 weeks or 119 days or 2856 hours or 171360 minutes) Later...
That fateful passing of time had occurred, we'd tried not to let people know too accurately this exact time span, otherwise we'd have had Paparazzi camped outside waiting for me to come out with "The Jiffy Bag"
We did the do.... Rubber gloves on (before or after? I forget!?), filled, wiped, filled again... put one inside the other, signed the sheet, and sealed the Jiffy Bag and off I went to the Post Office....
Now... it was at the point I pulled up outside the post office, it suddenly dawned on me that our post office is manned by women, and that I was going to have to hand over the "Jiffy bag of Liquid Gold" over the counter, to be weighed, prodded, squozen, inspected and then asked "So.... what’s in the Bag Sir?... I can see it says 'Medical Specimen'"
There would be a pause, I would likely start blubbering, and then the police would be called, so I decided that I'd bypass the "Spanish Inquisition", load the envelope up with about £25 quids worth of stamps, and put it in the post-box outside...
All well and Good you'd think wouldn’t you.. but this is ME after all isn’t it, Jimmy God had left me alone for 4 months, and now he had a new sharp stick to poke me with!
I had the "Jiffy" under my coat (Christ knows why), I "slunk" up to the red post office box, whipped out the "Jiffy" and slammed it into the Opening.....
YES.... JAMMED..... it got Stuck...... my "Liquid Gold" was STUCK in the F*cking post office slot...
(Damn you Family Planning Clinic and your 2 containers)
...and there was company coming... it must have been Gyro Day or something, cos every B@stard in Sutton, decided they'd come to post letters that day, it was like the Oklahoma Land Race or something, there were hundreds of the scrotes, coming at me like Ants...
I smacked, smacked, smacked, punched, and may have even head butted the Slot... "Thunk" it shot in!
"Christ, I hope that’s not torn open in the box... again....
I was not at my best for my Sample,
I was in a rush remember....
It happens to lots of mean (I believe...)
You only get a Bucketful you know... and know this... I was nearly 40 Remember"
.....So, Here I am, 3 years later, thankfully we still only have the 2, but my "awesome" work colleagues all wait for that day when the "Wife" tells them she's late!
and I hear you ask "So... Why would you buy your Son a Vasectomy for his 16th. Birthday?"
well... because by the time he's 16, I'll be drinking Meth’s on a Park Bench smelling of Piss, I'll look 90 (well... 'nearer' 90) and my son will come visit me and say... "Thanks Dad!"