Easy Come, Easy Go (No Pun Intended)

Around 15 years ago I decided to have a vasectomy, and it went something like this: I went into a surgery centre that had a urologist, signed some papers, gave the lovely lady at the front office my credit card, and was led into a white, very clean room with some surgical scalpels on a table and a nice, somewhat uncomfortable chair to sit in. My scrotum was then injected with an anaesthetic of some sort (I have no idea what it was called), and I could no longer feel my testicles.

The urologist doing the procedure was actually a nice guy. Despite being a little nervous that he was poking some sharp tools at my junk, he was able to have a nice conversation with me that kept my mind for the most part off of the surgery. For those that don’t know, a vasectomy is essentially a surgery where the vas deferens (the tube that carries sperm to the testes), is snipped and sewn shut so that it can no longer deliver sperm. In most cases, when done properly, this ensures that the man having the procedure done will no longer be fertile, and will be unable to impregnate a woman and have children.

snip snip

Vasectomy, snip, snip.

My surgery was successful, and for the next few days I remember my scrotum feeling a little sore. Sharp movements, and moving at certain angles in bed, made the pain increase sharply. I was incapacitated for around a week before I was able to go back to work. Shortly thereafter, around a month later, I was able to return to having sex, and at the time I was happy for deciding to have the procedure done.

If you want to find a video showing a vasectomy, look on youtube. They are too nasty to post here!