I'm totally unsure how this post is going to be taken, but I feel the rare need to write about my recent surgery.
18 years ago this March, my only child was born. Unplanned (by me, not her mother), but that didn't matter at all to me, I just wanted to be a part of her life and influence her to be a good person. My life changed, and then again 3 months later, when her mother and I split.
Cue a fair few years of turmoil. Depression, heavy alcohol and drug use, and a constant feeling of missing someone, until the light shone again at the weekend when it was my turn to care. Her mother was mostly horrible to me, using our child as a bargaining tool throughout.
When my daughter was 9, I quit my job (following depression / Seasonal Affective Disorder) and moved to Spain, seeking sunshine and happiness. It was the best decision I ever made. I was in my mid-thirties and feeling like a new person, and since that move feelings of sadness and depression have been rare to none.
Despite feeling rather fucked over with my first experience with fatherhood, I didn't rule out the possibility of meeting a (more stable, older, and just generally a bit fucking nicer) women who wanted to start/grow a family. And I did - a couple of them.
However, it just didn't feel like the right time with J - not the right time for 5 years....
It wasn't until last April though, that a verbal 'no' flew out of my mouth. The subject was brought up constantly by the girl, and her family and friends. And instead of thinking fuck I've scored here (She's a pretty 188cm blonde with a wealthy family), I was uncomfortable with the idea.
After another six or so months of thoughts, include such like 'well if you don't want children with that one you clearly aren't interested in more'! I haven't been, and not for a long time it seems - I just didn't know for sure until 'cornered'.
Started with me going to the doctors regarding my eye, which is currently watering whenever I eat. Nerve damage / crocodile tears, I read - the doc just gave me some steroids. However, he also made me an appointment to discuss a potential Vasectomy at a nearby hospital.
Less than I week later, I was at this hospital and chatting to a female doctor about myself and the procedure. She wanted to know if I had children already and how many, and my age. That was it. There was no 'are you realllly sure', or 'is this your final answer', it was straight on to the appointment date, which was the Thursday 21st December 2023.
The night before the surgery I was asked to visit the hospital again and this time spoke to a male surgeon who told me how to prepare (no food or drink 12 hours prior), what was going to happen, and who would be performing the surgery.
The key new piece of 'what was going to happen' information, was that I would be knocked out for 'half an hour or so' and wake up 'during the last 5 minutes of the surgery'. This was discomforting to hear, but I think for the best in hindsight!
It was to be the female doctor performing the surgery, who'd I'd spoken to the week prior - I was confident that I'd been very nice and polite, but if I knew it would be this person who'd have my balls in their hands, I'd have been mega polite!
And I'm kindly taken to the hospital by a friend who didn't think driving home was a good idea. Thank you!
It wasn't long before I was led to a holding room to swap my clothes for a 1 piece suit and bags for footwear. Another nurse opened the 2nd exit to the room and I was told to get onto a bed. This bed was wheeled to a curtained area, and I lay there waiting for 20 minutes. These minutes passed slowly, mainly because the bed wasn't anywhere near long enough and I had to have either my head or ankles touching cold metal.
I should have asked for a pillow (probably more likely than a bigger bed), but this was quickly forgotten about when the nurse turned up with the Cannula for my hand. It's not the first time I've had one of these, and the last time I slept with one for a week - not so nice rolling onto your hand in your sleep! I'm not a fan of needles and didn't look once.
The next couple of minutes were not comfortable. I remember squirming the drugs were injected, and then squirming some more when the doc said the nurse would need to add more. I remember being asked about my daughter, and then gone....
Until I woke up to the doc saying 'ok Asher, that's the left side done, we have to do the right side now'. The other doc did say I'd wake towards the end of the operation, but I wasn't convinced and also wanted 'wake up after surgery!'.
In front of me was a screen. The doctor quickly explained that she'd seen my reaction to the needles and thought it better I shouldn't see what was going on mid operation. I was spaced out, and grateful for the screen.
The next 5 minutes were totally bizarre. Still very dazed, the doc is busy doing what felt like ball-sack rummaging from the inside, whilst chatting merrily to me.
'This might hurt a little'. Yeah it did, but I made sure I didn't move a muscle - fears of the wrong cable being cut n all!
Another minute or two of what I presume was cauterisation and plaster application, and I was moved beds and wheeled to the room I'd used to change around 45 mins earlier. I got off the bed, walked slowly inside and took what seemed like an age to get dressed. Not surprising really considering the drugs and work done not an hour prior.
My friend in the waiting room collected me. She had also helped other guys leaving the ward - opening doors and giving directions. It seems the procedure is common, and the turnaround is not much more than an hour for the lot. This time, or lack of, being heavily influenced by 10/15 mins from operation completion to car! I was very grateful for the ride and support on the day - 100% recommend!
I took this photo on the day of the surgery, not to share with the world initially, but here we go :)
Tidy work eh? And hopefully mildly interesting and not disgusting.
Two weeks yesterday in fact. I see white blood cells are on the case and I think it's healing OK, despite the hole. There has been a little pain and discomfort at times, but nothing so bad to warrant more than a days worth of painkillers. I've been exercising too - and have found a new love for tight boxer shorts, for now :)
All being well, my next appointment is at the end of April. Apparently the sperm cables can re-attach and so ya juice needs testing for duds. That would not be cool if I was still fertile (precautions being taken), but I think I would begrudgingly go through the procedure again - this says a lot both for my keenness and for the general discomfort of the op - 'not toooo bad!'
This post will be passed to family and friends - I've only told a couple of people thus far that I shall be taking no further part in growing the worlds population.
I don't think folks will be too fussed.
I've been single and done little dating in this past year, but perhaps I'll re-word my Tinder profile soon and give it a go. Any ideas of what to write? 馃槅
Happy New Year!
Asher
