So, I recently got myself a vasectomy. My best friend has one and loves it, so I just had to get one too … you know how it goes. You have to keep up with the Joneses.
It was quite an experience, and I decided it was necessary to let the Flaming Redhead know all about it as it was happening. You may observe that these are not the thoughts that might pass through a normal person’s head. All I can say in my defense is that (a) I was quite high on painkillers, and (b) I’m me, and I might have said this stuff even if I wasn’t high.
What follows is verbatim…
I am on the table RIGHT NOW. My entire package is coated in some kind of brownish antiseptic that makes me look like I just had sex with a can of beef stew. Novocaine is gradually seeping through my sack.
Also, I am a little bit high. [They gave me some pretty powerful painkillers, and also some Valium.]
Additionally, I notice that the waiting room has a LOT of fishing magazines in it. Based on this, I assume that fishermen must experience a lot of urological difficulties.
I texted [my friend who gave me a ride to the urologist], who is in the waiting room, and told her that they promised me they would order room service for her. ‘Don’t believe them if they pretend they don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I said.
Also, I’m even more high now.
Now underway! Side 1 is finished! Side 2 in progress!
I couldn’t resist. I just took a photo. It looks freaky. I am willing to share if it’s not inappropriate, because trust me, there is nothing titillating about it and most of my secret parts are covered.
I have been pestering the doc with inappropriate questions. He showed me the bits of tube that he removed (about 1.5 centimeters each). He asked if I want to keep them. I asked him if he knew any recipes. I believe that one actually stunned him for a moment.
And now it’s all done!
I bet the doctor wished all his patients were that much fun to do surgery on.