A friend brought me along to a class at her gym. I enjoyed it so much, and figured the equipment would make a great outdoor gym, so I bought a TRX training package. I jog out to one of a couple of beautiful spots I’ve found, set up my gym, and do the workout from the military DVD. I’m loving it. It’s my new cult. It doesn’t hurt that this is a picture of one of my spots.

I suck at Photoshop, so you can see the lines in this Panorama, but still, my gym has a stone bridge and a fountain in it.

My road to a vasectomy started just like everyone else’s, with sex. “The Pill” reduced my wife’s libido to a point where birth control became superfluous, so we eliminated those, and our haphazard use of condoms felt like gambling. The list of solutions to avoid pregnancy is not long. Abstinence is not on our list, and the rhythm method works really well as long as you are comfortable having up to eight children. That left surgical options, and quite simply, those are less complicated for men, with fewer risks. So, I decided to get a vasectomy.

It’s a simple procedure. I don’t want to be flippant about this, but if you are able to be clinical, there’s not much to it. A local anesthetic and about twenty minutes in a doctor’s office. It takes longer to change the oil in my car.

Here’s the rub; low risk, is not no risk. In a minority of cases problems develop. Infection, inflammation, and chronic pain are all potential consequences. Not to mention that men with vasectomies have been known to father unexpected babies. However, in the majority of the cases, once you’ve calmed down from having someone cut open your scrotum, the only result is tenderness for a few days, and of course, sterility.

It seemed to work just like that for me, at first. More than a year after the operation I developed a complication. I’ll avoid medical terminology, what am I a doctor? The only detail that is relevant to my story is that sex became uncomfortable, or rather, I was unable to perform my “big finish” without some accompanying pain. Unless you are into some pretty specific fetishes, testicular pain during ejaculation is not desirable, so I was intent on getting that fixed.

The remedy was to cut out the old vasectomy and do another one. This was a more involved operation requiring general anesthetic, still low risk, but once again I won the “kicked in the nuts” lottery. I developed a serious infection following the surgery that put me in the hospital with a fever and very specific swelling. I made it to the other side of that sterile, without pain, and thankfully, with everything still in place.

Then I decided I wanted to have children. Which I can’t adequately account for, but that’s what happened. A friend recently asked me about my inexplicable change of heart. “Well,” I said, “no one has ever accused me of being indecisive.” In whichever direction I’m going, I’m running, like Forrest Gump.

My road to sterility was definitely more harrowing than most, but I’m not unique in wanting to change paths. Vasectomies are reversible, with a good success rate, but it is not something I looked into. As you might imagine my internal debate about further surgery anywhere near my entertainment equipment went something like this, “Not a fucking chance.”

Instead, I elected to have a needle inserted into my scrotum to extract sperm from the source, which I know doesn’t sound any better. My wife and I agreed to try In Vitro Fertilization (IVF), for which the doctors need sperm, and more than a plastic cup and happy thoughts were required for me to participate. I’ve written about this elsewhere, I almost passed out, but other than that, it went fine.

To the poor guys who have been cringing since paragraph one; I’m done talking about terrible things that can happen to your balls. I have a bunch of sperm frozen, awaiting the chance to unleash my progeny on the world, and my reproductive equipment can go back to being entirely recreational, which was the point when I started this whole debacle. All’s well that ends well.

Would I have the vasectomy again? Probably. It was the right decision at the time. If I had all the above information in advance, or had an inkling I was going to change my mind, clearly I would have made better decisions, but you can say that about anything.

Bad luck magnified an error in judgement, twice, but hell, it’s a risk every time you get out of bed, and sometimes you get the short straw. Thankfully, I’m not a typical example. My only advise is to consider your options, perhaps more carefully than I, then pick a direction, and start running.

This article was written after prodding by Angie, one of the ladies at ivfdiaries.com, who asked me to write about my experiences, and opinion, on vasectomies.

Dear neighbours to the South:

Universal Health Care is an idea that most developed nations have adopted, and we love it, honestly. It’s not perfect, but if you get sick here, you will be taken care of, which we consider our collective right. You may come to see it that way too.

Don’t let insurance lobbyist scare you by shouting “Socialism.” Your government gave billions to bail out auto companies. It is too late to label government involvement in the economy as evil. That ship sailed a long time ago. You should at least get something for your money.

Most of you want to see changes in your health care. It seems like you have a big battle ahead of you. I hope you win. You deserve it. Until then, come up to visit Canada for your fertility treatments. We’d love to have you.

Good Luck,
Dirk

P.S.

I almost hate to mention it, but the Metric system, seriously, it’s here to stay. Every nation except Burma, Liberia, and the United States use it. That’s embarrassing.

In summary, Universal Health Care, it’s a good thing, and the Metric System, not a passing fad.

Resources

• A cartoon argument for Universal Health Care
• CBS Poll & Angus Reid Poll – most Americans favor Universal Health Care

On ancient maps, mariners would mark uncharted areas of the sea with pictures of serpents, mythological creatures, and the warning, “Here be dragons”. It’s much the same way that I view the female reproductive system. I mapped out my favorite vacation spots, and everything else is veiled in mist.

We have spent hours reading information and speaking with professionals at the clinic about the entire process we are undergoing. I have been present for dozens of ultrasounds to view the state Michelle’s ovaries. Despite all of that, this morning I asked her how her uteruses were feeling. We will have a kid in college before she lets me forget that.

The doctor routinely performs an ultrasound of Michelle’s ovaries. The objective is to count the number of follicles developing and measure their size. Once the follicles reach a target size they can be triggered to mature the eggs. Last visit they counted eight per side, but the number jumped dramatically to 12 and 10, and once again, Michelle is an overachiever.

One of the risks of inducing ovulation with drugs is Ovarian Hyper Stimulation Syndrome (OHSS). Michelle’s estrogen is high, which contributes to the large number of follicles that are developing, but it also puts her at risk. There are serious potential consequences of the condition, but it usually corrects itself. Onset is characterized by a build up of fluid, which the doctor combats by restricting Michelle to one can of V8 and a Gatorade a day. She’s the first patient that has ever told him that she likes V8.

“Don’t put cream on it,” he said, which is a small victory because I had refused Michelle’s tube of put-this-on-anything cream. There is no question I lost the war though. If I had listened to her, and seen the doctor a few day earlier, I could have received the treatment that is effective within the first 72 hours.

This disease of the young and the old hitting me at my apparent prime of life is tough on the ego, but most painful is that I must admit that all those little girls of my youth were right, “Dirk has cooties!”

I am sitting by myself on a patio enjoying a beer in the sunshine. The speaker is also alone having lunch when he receives a call. His side of the conversation provides a sad glimpse into his life as he relates the condition of a loved one to the caller.

I never learn who he is speaking about, but believe it is someone from his immediate family, because his mom “is not as upset as he thought she would be.” Perhaps his mom has reached the same stage he has. He relates the latest information like someone who has come to accept a situation to grim to contemplate.

His loved one is dying and there is little hope. Cancer has ravaged his lungs. He is on a breathing tube. The disease is spreading rapidly. “The doctors are not too confident” about his treatment. This morning the dying man asked to have an order signed that prevents any extraordinary measures to continue his life. Hospital lingo for this is DNR, do not resuscitate.

My own battles are trivial in comparison. It is a powerful antidote for feeling sorry for yourself. Many have said it more eloquently than this, but if you have a full belly, a roof, and your health, then you have everything. Take a deep breath and enjoy the sun while it shines.

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. – Plato

That so many calls for consuming water as a catch all health tip come from sources like the one above, or in women’s magazines in connection with advise on how to look younger, or prettier, or lose five pounds, is probably one of the reasons women seem more likely to be toting around water bottles everywhere they go.

The benefits of drinking, when your body gives no indication of being thirsty, are questionable. “Drink water”, is not health news, it is advise easily proscribed by any fool, and it usually is.

Five Myths About Drinking Water – NPR

Evidence wishy-washy for health benefits of water – Reuters

I have a history of being annoyed with the medical profession (see here and here for examples why), but am I alone in lacking adjectives to describe my pain. When asked I struggle to answer if my pain is radiating, tingling, aching, sharp, burning, stinging, twinging, or throbbing. I filled out one of those forms you do on a first visit today and it asked me to circle where I hurt and check off the boxes that described my pain. Stabbing and shooting were separate boxes. When you keep poking that spot it makes me want to punch you right in your stupid face. So not shooting or stabbing. I would describe my pain as punching. What does it say about that in your desk reference?