Where your intrepid, irregularly posting blogger writes of his ouchie

Last month, I had a vasectomy – and while I read TONS of “what to expect” posts online, they were all written by urologists. It’s all great to get a doctor’s explanation of “what to expect”, but I found very few “this is what it was like” from a “normal guy¹” postings. Birth control is important – hugely so. The world is overpopulated as it is, and even if you don’t think so, kids are VERY FUCKING EXPENSIVE.
I’m at a point where, even if I change my mind, in the future, and think “well, hey, let’s try this parenting thing anew,” I’m adopting. Plain & simple.

There, really, are two permanent solutions for a couple to consider for birth control – you either make it so the guys semen is missing sperm (by severing the vas deferens) or you ensure the woman’s egg never reaches the uterus after departing the ovary.

The male solution is much less invasive.

So, now that I’m recovered from “minor surgery” right now. That’s how I’m calling it, at work, and that explanation, at least for now, suffices to say why was relatively inactive whilst at the office. In short, I was quite sore, but all is better now.

But the whole story of why I’m like this? Well, we need to go back a few months – and because I’m me, we’ll head to yet another tale of running. Specifically, we start with a tale of a marathon — well, two marathons.

In early May, I ran the Flying Pig “4 Way With Cheese Challenge” in Cincinnati, Ohio. Three days, four events (one mile Friday night, a 10k early Saturday morning, a 5k later Saturday morning, a full marathon on Sunday). Normally, with that much running, I’ll take at least a month off before considering another trying distance. But, I’m motherfucking Daddy Runs A Lot, so when the opportunity to run the York, PA marathon came up, two weeks after that running extravaganza, I said yes!

The marathon starts like most any race. While I’m pretty good with math, I’m really not very good with counting – but I believe this was my 15th full marathon adventure – and my strategy, for every marathon, is much the same:

• Start: try not to get caught up in the excitement, don’t fight for positioning
• Mile 1: start to “run my own race” and hopefully have cleared from the crowds at the start
• 5k: ensure I’m on auto-pilot
• Mile 13.1: remind myself that I’m halfway done — this is a distance that I’ve been able to “just run” for some time now.
• Mile 16: remind myself that my during-the-week training runs have increased to 10 miles – and that’s all that’s left. Get incredibly discouraged that 10 miles are a LOT longer than 10k.
• Mile 20: it’s just a 10k left, anyone can run a 10k.
• Mile 22: left foot, right foot, left foot right foot – think of nothing else.
• Mile 26: (incoherent animals noises emanating from some deep recess of my mind)
• Mile 26.2: Finish and cry.

While that all is going on – a LOT can go wrong.

During the York marathon, a lot went wrong.

I remember that it was somewhere between mile marker 16 and 20 – I want to say that I was able to see mile marker 20 – when I felt a tug in my groin. My immediate thought was that, somehow, a pubic hair had somehow twisted around my right testicle, gotten caught up in a rather private piercing, and as I ran, it tugged. Or maybe my running shorts were starting to fray, and, somehow, Mr Right Nut ended up in the middle of some diabolical compression-short unraveling ceremony?

Because I’m über-klassy, without stopping, I reached my hand into my running shorts to free things up. Only, there was nothing seemingly amiss. But that tugging was persistent. I stopped running.

If you’ve ever run a marathon. No, fuck that, if you’ve ever run a distance where you are pushing your limits, stopping is a bad, bad idea. I’m a big guy – the amount energy required to get me moving from a stop is significant. After 20 miles in blistering heat? After having run a whole bunch, just two weeks prior? That energy simply didn’t exist within me. The last bit of this marathon ruined me.

But I finished — only, as I drove back home, the battery light came on in my truck. My truck then died. I got to arrange for a tow, then an Uber, before getting myself to a gig I had to play that afternoon. The craziness of the post-marathon logistics kind of pushed that testicular pain to the back of my mind – “getting my truck back” was a bigger priority than anything else.

And I did get my truck back – the alternator belt cracked, breaking the alternator, fully sapping the battery . . . it wasn’t cheap, but it wasn’t horrible. By Thursday of the next week, life had returned to normal.

Except for the random stabbing pains in my right testicle.

I “lived” with things for about a week . . . then thought of the advice I’d give anyone who was dealing with “random stabbing pains”. I called the doctor. Things were investigated — no real sense of what might be wrong, so he put me on noninflammatory medication & told me to call back in two weeks if things weren’t better. Chances are I disrupted a nerve in the run, and things were “settling”.

Two weeks went by and the stabbing pains lessened, but did not fully go away. I went back to the doctor, who referred me for an ultrasound. The ultrasound revealed a cyst on the right epididymis². I was referred to a urologist.

Cysts on/around the testicles are far from uncommon – what is uncommon is for them to hurt. The urologist mentioned that he could try draining the cyst – it was the least invasive action that involved some sort of action – but he was pretty certain that, in time, the pain would go away on its own. But pain is best avoided, and that “go away on its own” might have been a “couple of weeks” thing, or maybe a “decade or two”.

And while they were in there….well, I’m done producing kids. Kids are the worst, except when they’re not. So, while my scrotum was cut open, might as well redirect those sperm ducts so ensure I am no longer capable of creating kids while still fully being able to enjoy sex.

For preparation: I took Friday off work, I cleared everything in my schedule for the weekend, and I arranged to work from home on Monday. I trimmed my pubic hair.

Early in the morning, I took a Valium, and Duffy drove me to the urologist’s office. The medication had me . . . quite calm, and any anxiety I had about what lay ahead for me was greatly reduced.

There were two quick injections of a local anesthetic – similar to what you get from the dentist for a filling. This was, physically, the most uncomfortable part of the ordeal. But, I’d say that getting a Novocaine injection in the gums is far worse. After a few minutes to ensure I wasn’t feeling anything “down there,” my a small incision was made in my scrotum, and the cyst drained. I never felt that at all.

Soon thereafter, my left vas deferens was severed, and the two loose ends cauterized (to help ensure that “nature doesn’t find a way” and things figure out how to repair itself). The smell – well, that was the worst part of the ordeal. I didn’t feel ANY of it – but the smell of burning flesh was unpleasant.

After lefty was done, righty was completed.

All told, I was in and out of the doctor’s office in under 45 minutes.

I went home, still numb, grabbed a bag of frozen peas, and watched shitty television/movies for the next few hours with my feet up. I took a pretty regular diet of Aleve over the weekend. By about 2 in the afternoon, I was truly uncomfortable. I had a beer or two. I played some computer games to get me thinking of anything else. I kept the frozen peas over my nutsack (well, I had two bags of frozen peas – I would grab the one from the freezer, replacing it with the thawed one). I went to bed in a fair bit of pain, but I slept well.

Saturday, I got out of bed, and the only thought I had was “OUCH”. I was on my feet enough to make coffee – but the day was spent, mostly, seated, with frozen peas, Aleve, some beer. The big change is that i went with shitty Horror films besides binge-watching television. It was almost an entirely inactive day.

Sunday, again, I woke with the thought “ow” but it was far better than the previous day. Again: seated with frozen peas, Aleve, beer, binge-watching The Haunting of Hill House, and playing a bunch of computer games from my youth. I found myself getting up & walking around far more often.

Sunday also marked a pretty big milestone — I woke up from a nap with an erection. The relief I had was palpable here – simply, it told me that my penis was still working. I was far too uncomfortable to actually do anything with the engorged appendage at the time, but, at least, I knew I could get an erection. It was a huge relief.

Monday, I got out of bed and it was the first day that pain wasn’t first on my mind. I walked the dogs (though an abridged walk). I managed to work through the day, though I was home, so when I got overly sore, I had the luxury of putting my feet up.

Tuesday, I was back in the office. I have a convertible standing/sitting desk – while I typically stand on a balance board while at the office (is it really “work” if you’re not coding while working your core?), I sat for the whole week. As Tuesday turned to Friday, I walked more & more in the mornings. I felt less and less sore.

Thursday marked my first run since the procedure; it was just a 5k, but it was something³. Then, after showering, in a magical, rare moment of time truly to myself, I got to, ahem, “test the plumbing.” I can’t say the masturbatory session was entirely pain-free, but I did climax. A few days later, when I was alone yet again, I had an orgasm where I’d say there was truly minimal discomfort.

We’re now a month beyond the procedure, and the only thing amiss is some discomfort when the little impish brats who live with me my kids or dogs land on or bump into my scrotum – see, the dissolving stitches haven’t completely dissolved there.

In summary: the procedure truly was quick & easy. Things were pretty awful in the immediate aftermath, but I had planned for that, and the pain was never such that I couldn’t move or take care of myself. As time passed, things got progressively “more normal”, and we are now at a point where, aside from the very random “kid walks into my crotch-head first moment, I don’t even remember that I had the procedure. Everything still works. I’m noticing no loss of libido, loss of enjoyment of sex, or quantity of semen ejaculated.