They Call Him Dr. (Free) Love

This is a follow up to an earlier post where I talk a little about the decision I made to sign my manly bits up for a date with another man. Please be warned, this is all clinically accurate, so some descriptions may be more descriptive than you want to read or imagine. The better you know me, the more likely that is.

So I met the doctor who would be giving me the big snip (or, as I later learned, the one incision, two snips, four cauterized ends, four clamps, and five stitches) and I was really comfortable. We reviewed all of the same stuff I had already learned (I'd still be firing live rounds for 6-8 weeks, it might magically work again at some point in the future, it was WAY safer for me than the missus) and went over some new stuff (I wouldn't be developing bigger breasts, everything else would be normal except for the swimmers).

The Pre-Game

Easily the most important thing I took away from this meeting was my pre-op instructions, which was awesome in several ways. First, I could eat and drink normally before the exam, which is perfect for me, as I actually have a to-do to eat and drink more normally. Second, no blood-thinners the week before the procedure. I know someone who didn't listen to that particular rule and looked like a a pair of grapefruits choking out a baby carrot for a week (which is probably actually really, really cool right up until the pain kicks in). Also, for the very first time I got to take a Xanax.

Xanax Rocks

I have a reputation for being pretty laid back. I'm mostly just riding on fumes from college when I was actually laid back. Now, trying to raise kids, work, blog, yada, yada, and yada, I'm a raving freakin' lunatic and I have one heck of a time relaxing. So I usually don't. Let's just say that if I ever need to lie down quietly while someone manhandles my manhandles, I'm going to need something that can instantly relax me, Xanax is that thing.

The Procedure

Xanax rocks. I could feel some tugging, some pressure, but honestly, nothing too bad. My wife even watched the whole thing (with minimal laughing and NO pointing). Other than that, nothing really that you wouldn't expect from a procedure where some dude and a parade of nurses spend 10 minutes huddled around your berries.

The Recovery

As is so often the case, the recovery is much worse than the actual procedure. One bit of advice here: your doctor will tell you to buy an athletic supporter, and you will think "Nah, I've got some grippy drawers, I'll be fine" to which I say "buck up for the jock strap."

Early on the recovery was fine. Sure, I spent a day and a half feeling like I had been kicked in the {insert unused euphemism here} unless I was positioned just so (and I got very, VERY good at positioning myself just so) and another day and a half walking like a cowboy (admittedly more Dirty Steve than Dick), but still largely not too bad. Until a few days later when I noticed a dimple in my dangle. The medical term (and I'm speculating here) is a "double chin, you know, down there." I called the nurse the next day, and after 2 minutes of trying to explain it was told "if it is that hard to describe, he'll want you to come in and see it." So I went in to see him. It turns out that a stitch had stuck.

The Pain

I'm not going to fret on this too much, but let's say I'm impressed that a procedure centered around fixing a stitch could be so much worse than the procedure that produced said stitch. I had no Xanax and no wife, just an open mind and a doctor with the wherewithall to keep pumping in anesthetic (for which he should get a refund from the manufacturer) and the uncanny ability to get two hands elbow deep into a 1/4 inch incision.

The Recommendation

Despite my one-in-10,000 complication, I still totally recommend the snip. I just recommend getting it right the first time. And if that isn't possible, I'd try to have the doctor operate on them while they still sit securely in your wife's purse.