the day of days, pt. 2...

Part two...It makes no deferens to me...

I happily greeted Debbie, the nurse who called my name. She smiled and guided me through the automatic doors to the pre-op area. Debbie pulled the curtain back exposing the room where I would wait to be taken to surgery. Furnished with a fluid resistant plastic recliner and a 12" television monitor, it wasn't much but it was comfortable enough. On the chair, folded neatly, was one standard hospital gown, a terry-clothish robe and a pair of dark blue sticky bottomed socks.

"Alright then, Mr. Tesch. You're here for a vasectomy?"
"Yes."
"And, have you elected to go with a sedative for the procedure?"
"I was thinking something along the lines of a couple bong hits?"
"The doctor has written an order for 10mg of Valium."
"Really? Ten whole milligrams? Why not just a warm glass of milk?"
"I'm going to need you to strip off everything below the waist and put on the gown. The robe can go on over it."

Debbie yanked the curtain behind her as she went looking for the Children's Chewable Valium. I clicked on the TV, stripped as instructed and slid into my health care lingerie. I had been wearing perfectly clean and comfortable socks, but I figured there must be something special about the non-slip footies they provided.

There's something about hospital gowns that make you feel more sick than you are. I sat back in the plastic lounger and waited for Debbie to return with my sedative. I began feeling as if I was preparing for heart surgery. Should I have asked for an advanced directive? What if there are complications? I haven't filled out a will. What if, somehow, I became the next Terry Shiavo? I once saw an episode of "House" where...

"Mr. Tesch," the curtain slipped back open. "Here's your Valium. Please place your personal belongings in this bag. We'll return it after the procedure."
"Nah. You guys can keep everything but the iPhone. I think I'll sport the gown for a while. I like the idea that with the right amount of wind gust, people can get a peek at my ass."
"The sedative should take effect in about five minutes or so. The doctor will be with you shortly."

Fifteen minutes later I thought about asking for seconds. I yawned once, so I suppose I can't say it had NO effect, but the thought of someone slicing open my dice bag still made me anxious. I channel surfed for a while. Sadly, daytime TV offered nothing for distraction either. Thirty minutes after I entered the pre-op area, my urologist entered the room with a big smile and a hearty greeting. He notified me that the surgical suite was all prepped and another nurse would be along shortly. She appeared over his shoulder and escorted me to THE room.

"Mr. Tesch, are you able to walk or would you like a wheel chair?"
"I am perfectly able to walk AND I'd like a wheel chair."
"Here, take my arm and we'll just take it slow."
"No. Really. I'm fine. I just like wheel chairs."
"Watch your step. Sometimes medications take effect and you don't notice until you've fallen."

We entered the OR and I was instructed to lay on the table that sat in the center of the room. There were all kinds of machines and instruments, but none were lit up. Probably just there in case there are complications. For a room with no acoustic deadening surfaces, it was remarkably quiet. I laid back and pulled up my gown, exposing the most personal parts of Earl Tesch to three masked strangers, all women. Don't get me wrong. It's not that I haven't done that before, but this time it wasn't in the Philippines and it was going to cost more than $18. One of the bandits appeared in my line of sight as I stared at the sterile ceiling.

"OK, Earl. The doctor will be in shortly. We're going to start prepping you for the procedure."
"Are you sure there's enough of you? I was hoping for maybe five or six strangers to handle my balls."
"First, we're going to shave the area."
"That won't be necessary."
"Oh, Earl. I know it seems uncomfortable, but we need to do it for each patient. Don't be embarrassed."
"I'm not embarrassed. Take a look. Smooth as eggs."
"Well, then we're going to wash the site and apply some Betadine scrub to sterilize."

And they did. With warm water and soap. And gentle gloved hands. Two of them. I don't know their names, but I couldn't help but wonder if this was a test. I wasn't aroused, necessarily, but most of my fantasies that involved two strange women washing my balls with warm, soapy water included soft music and a goat. Don't ask.

"Do you guys think you could light some candles or something?"
"Now we'll apply the Betadine. It could feel a little cold, so we're sorry."
"Are you sure you got the area clean enough? Maybe just a little faster this time?"
"Betadine can be a bit messy. Don't be alarmed when you see it around your legs and groin. Sometimes people mistake it for blood."
"Hey, there's three of you, right? Maybe one of you pinches my nipple a little while the others do the Betadine?"
"All set, Earl. The doctor will be in shortly. He's very efficient. The whole procedure should only take approximately seven minutes."
"Seven isn't really an 'approximate' number. Is it? Five is approximate. Ten is approximate."
"He really is quite efficient."
"If I'd known it was a race, I'd have brought a stopwatch."

The three of them stood around me and my exposed naughty bits, waiting for the doctor to come in. They made small talk, which is no reflection on the environment. There's no such thing as "giant serpent" talk. The doctor arrived just as Ball Handler #2 was finishing her story about the super secret ingredient of a great knackwurst recipe. The three nurses greeted him and all four of them began scurrying about, working quickly. The doctor asked me how I was feeling.

"Is the sedative working?"
"Oh, sure. I'm high as a kite."
"It's just there to steady the nerves a bit."
"Well it must be working, Doc. I am care free. Do your thing."
"Here we go. Just relax."

I felt one hand on my left testicle and a different hand on my right. The left began applying even and exponential pressure until I was certain that they were engaged in a contest to see which would burst first. The left side must have won, because the pressure subsided entirely on the right. I began twitching my feet in response to the "discomfort."

"How we doing Earl?"
"My left ball feels like it's in a garlic press. How about you?"
"It's all part of the procedure."
"That would be a good thing to put in the brochure. Ball mashing."
"Earl, you're going to feel a tiny pinch and then a burning sensation as we inject the anesthetic."
"OK. You'll probably feel my legs and feet kick wildly."

Surprisingly, the initial pinch wasn't very uncomfortable. However, the "burning sensation" was more akin to the feeling of someone pouring molten lead on my scrotum. I may have let out a short, high pitched squeal because one of the nurses gently rubbed my shin to comfort me. It didn't help, though eventually I lost all feeling in the affected area. The team was ready to finally do the deed.

I felt nothing as the doctor made a single, half-inch incision into the seam of my coin purse. I know they were working on stuff, but I couldn't tell exactly. It was quite a helpless feeling. I couldn't prepare myself for what was to come next and I had no idea how close they were to completing the sterilization. The doctor spoke up.

"Alright then Earl. You'll feel some tugging."
"Tugging?"
"Yes. While we search for the Vas Deferens. Then once we find it, we need to expose it."
"You're the doctor."

Immediately, I felt as though he reached in through my scrotum and started pulling on my soul. I could feel the 'tugging' in my shoulders. I explained this to the team and they said it was perfectly normal. He continued tugging and I was afraid that if I looked down, I would see my lungs hanging out of the incision.

"There we go. That's one."
"You mean you're going back in?"
"Almost there, Earl. Just relax."
"Um, Doc? You may want to revisit your dosage recommendations regarding Valium if you really want me to relax."

The right side took less time but with no less tugging, pulling, snagging or wrenching. The tubes snipped and separated, it was time to singe them shut forever. There was an audible sizzle and poofs of beef flavored smoke wafted up into the air. Mission accomplished, the doctor reinstalled the disabled hardware and closed the incision with three self-dissolving sutures.

"All done Earl. Eight minutes."
"Why the delay?"
"Be sure you avoid heavy activities and sex for ten days to two weeks."
"Do me a favor? Give those same orders to Mrs. Tesch."
"You can expect some inflammation, but if your scrotum swells to the size of a grapefruit you should call us."
"A grapefruit?! If it gets any bigger than a tangelo, you'll be hearing from my lawyer."
"Apply ice or an equivalent regularly. That should help with pain and keep swelling down."
"Mrs. Tesch already bought two bags of frozen peas on Grocery Day. Plus, I molded an ice cube tray in the shape of my cock-n-balls. I allowed for the swelling."
"After two weeks you can resume sexual activity. Then after fifteen to twenty ejaculations, come back in for a semen analysis."
"Right. Should be about two weeks and two hours. What about this analysis, anyway? What do you check for? Nice, smooth finish? Low tannens?"

The doctor left with one of the nurses, leaving the other two to assist me to post-op. I couldn't look them in the eyes, but I assured them there would be a little something extra for them in the payment envelope.

Mrs. Tesch and the two youngest kids picked me up after and recovery has been fairly uneventful. No grapefruit sized testes, no bleeding, hardly any discomfort. In fact, the ear piercing was more painful than the sterilization. Today, I have barely any pain or soreness in my balls, but if I touch the industrial piercing just the right way, I wince and pee my pants a bit. Go figure.

Two quick ironies before I close this chapter of my life:

1. I had a vasectomy on Father's Day weekend.
2. More interestingly, my urologist's name is Dr. Johnson.