vasovegas

This morning, and this is rare, I was the rock, and not the ‘in between’ or ‘the hard place’ kind, but a mooring. This morning, and this is rare, I came through for them when they needed it.

On Friday, I shaved and showered and did my best to mourn the children I’ll never have. The ones I do have piled into the backseat and my wife held my hand, and we were sore from slug bug, and when my six year old daughter asked why I was going to the doctor, I said, ‘I am getting a vasectomy.’ And she asked, ‘Are you going to get a shot?’ And I said, ‘Yes.’ And she asked, ‘Where?’

And I said, ‘ON MY PEE PEE.’

And from the back, I heard her say, ‘OHHHHWWWHHWHHWW’

And I laughed so hard, because, yes. Yes, exactly.

Surprisingly, I’d never read a real account of this procedure, and even if I had, I never seem to experience life the same way others do. It was miserable and at the end, I sat defeated, my head down, covered in blood and vomit and said, ‘Whatever I’ve done, I consider myself atoned.’ And the doctor laughed.

Apparently, I suffer from some sick vasovagal response at the stupidest things. I am not averse to pain or blood or gore, and I freakishly enjoy shots, the needle penetration and all that, but but but…

So, I am completely naked from the waist down (WHERE ELSE WOULD I BE CONSIDERED NAKED, HMM?) and the nurse is rubbing my bit parts down with iodine and hoisting my feet into stirrups, and then the doctor sits down and goes on and on about

‘JUST PREPARING’

‘NOT THERE YET’

‘DON’T WORRY, I WON’T GIVE YOU ANY SURPRISES’

‘ALMOST READY’

ad nauseam



Then finally, ‘Okay, we’re ready to go. Like I said, this first part isn’t going to be so pleasant. I’m going to give you a topical anaesthetic, then I’m going to numb the first tube. It’s going to feel like you’ve been kicked. Then I have to massage it through. After that you shouldn’t feel anything, except maybe the sensation of pulling.’

‘So, here’s the first shot.’

Then the needle prick. No problem.

‘There.’

Pause.

‘Now I’m going to numb the rest.’

Sharp, unnatural pain. Slight sensation of an injection into some tube I’ve always known was there, but never really experienced. There’s the kick. Stomach sickening feeling from getting knocked in the groin. Then the ickiness (I’m sorry, that’s the best way to describe it. I have a goddamned thesaurus in front of me, but really, the best way to describe what I felt was ‘icky.’)

Icky is my vasovagal trigger.

Me: ‘I’m sorry, but sometimes I get a little nauseated during things like this.’

Editor’s note: I had almost said, ‘Sometimes I get a little nauseated during vasectomies,’ but thought that he might laugh, and I wasn’t in any mood to laugh. By this time, I had already felt the sensation of him pulling my tubes out, and am pretty sure he had cut them and was preparing the cauterizing iron (or whatever).

Doctor: ‘Oh. Um, nurse, can you get an emesis basin?’

Nurse: ‘Sure.’

HOURS HOURS LATER SHE FOUND AN EMESIS BASIN. SHE MAY HAVE IN FACT RUN ACROSS THE STREET TO RITE AID. UGH.

The whole time, I can sort of see him between my legs in the stirrups, and am trying to imagine this is the view of all those mothers in delivery, and it helps that the nurse had removed my glasses, so everything is a blur.

She hands me the basin, and I’m embarrassed more than anything, because if there is one thing I hate about my body, it’s that it does this kind of shit. Christ, it’s just a needle, you know?

When the sickness comes, it is a little more violent than I expected. Fortunately, I hadn’t eaten anything in over 24 hours, so there’s not really any concern about contents, but I jerk forward, and, oh. I think I feel something pull. And then it’s just painpainpain.

‘Ok. I’m better now.’

‘Ok, here we go.’

And to be honest, I really like this doctor and nurse. They are champs and very cool, and put up with my constant apologizing, because, god. It must really suck to have me as a patient. God, who vomits during something like this?

He describes the burning smell that’s about to hit, but I’m through the nausea, and really, nothing else bothers me. I should have just forced myself to vomit before hand, and I’d be done already.

Then he says, ‘Ok. Now we’re ready for the next tube.’

We go through the motions again. Numbing shot. Deep penetrating shot. Kick to the groin. Massaging the goods. Poke. Sensation of pulling. Sound of cutting. Smell of burning. That’s it. I’m already so over this.

When they pull me up, I say, ‘I’m never getting a vasectomy again.’ They laugh. Honestly, after my episode, I was pretty much running a stand up routine. I don’t remember much of what I said, but I know we were laughing quite a bit. I was so embarrassed, it was awful.

The whole night, I was in freakish pain.



The next morning, my mom stopped by with a bag of vicodin or hydrocodone. Something pretty fucking strong, whatever it was. I thought about all the horrible shit I’ve said to her and felt like crying. She loves me, whatever you want to say. I am her baby boy, and that’s that. God.

We uncanceled plans to go camping with my brother-in-law and sister-in-law and quickly packed our gear and drove three hours to the Oklahoma camp of the Gifford Pinchot national forest along the Columbia Gorge. It was indescribably beautiful.

On Sunday, I walked down the little white salmon river a half mile with my kids in tow, along a deserted stretch of wilderness, where no one thinks to fish, because the pools are wee small. I dug up a tiny worm near the camp, threaded it onto a treble hook and dropped it into the looking glass and pulled out a rainbow trout. My kids jumped and hollered and we waded our way back.

On Sunday night, Palina had a seizure, and suddenly all our dreams were dashed and we imagined life without her and everything miserable and endearing about life was jammed into our cores and ripped out.

And in the morning, I said, ‘Remember that thing you told me about being positive. She’s going to be fine, and we are going to love her and be great, and that’s all there is to it.’

And later, she came to me and said, ‘Thank you.’