Neil’s experience: Utter coward succeeds after the fourth attempt

I had a vasectomy about a year ago. I have always had an awful phobia for anything medical. Even the smell of antiseptic brings on an immediate u-turn. My wife and I have three great kids, all born by somewhat troublesome cesarean. Along with a family history of thrombosis, my wife had no realistic option for birth control. I certainly wasn’t going to allow her to have sterilization, and she made it clear that it was my turn to ‘do my bit’. Fair enough!

Arrrggghhhh – suddenly my destiny dawns on me. Either go without sex with my lovely wife forever or get ‘the snip’ – Arrrggghhhh again!

Could there be a worse dilemma? My equipment would be forever unemployed if I refused, so why not risk the surgeon’s knife?

First attempt

Knowing full well I would most likely ‘scare off’, I went the National Health, State Clinic on my first attempt, more curious than really intending to have it done. Here in England, we don’t usually use valium for a vasectomy – stiff upper lip instead – the only thing that is stiff when going for a vasectomy, believe me.

The night before, as well as the traditional pigskin shave, I had a chili pizza, not a good idea. I spent an age in the loo sweating and in tears. By the time my turn came for ‘the snip’, I was not in the mood for being pulled about, in fact, I was totally terrified. Worse of all the nurse came out wearing operating robes and began talking to me as though I was a five-year-old. This scared the **** out of me even more, and I was soon calling a taxi on my mobile phone. Trying to ignore the latest saddle-sore cowboy impressionist, a recent patient, proceeding down the corridor past me.

When I got home, the reception from my wife was below freezing. Damn it.

Second time

Second time at the same NHS clinic, my own doctor had given me a dose of tranquilizer strong enough to put a Bull Elephant to sleep. I am 260 pounds so this was probably an accurate dose. However, the feeling of not having total control over my faculties made me panic even more. Once again I was in a cab speeding home. Pathetic really. Even frostier reception from the wife and cramp in my right hand for months after – if you know what I mean.

Eventually, decided that I’d pay about £300, roughly $200, and go private. I ended up getting a pep talk from a really old fashioned English doctor, a top urologist, a very gentle and compassionate man nearing retirement. After this, I actually believed that I now had a 20% chance of going through with it rather than 1%, my previous estimate.

Third time

This time with the private Doc. I had already had the usual weeks of sleepless nights, full of terror, somehow trying to visualize and mentally condition myself into going through with the vasectomy. The night before, I was virtually catatonic with fright, and had to tell my wife not to even talk about the op – Arrrggghhhh!!!

This time I actually made the trip in the oversize lift, down to the bowels of the private hospital, and actually got the gown on. But when I spotted the Doctor coming through the door, all gowned and clogged up, and the tray of instruments, I was soon moving rapidly, and bare assed, for my trousers, socks, and shoes again. I apologized rapidly and profusely but explained that there was probably now no hope for me.

The Doctor, lovely chap that he was, obviously felt for me and offered to re-book the op, the next time offering me an anaesthetic. No charge for the abortive attempt. I said I’d think about it, knowing full well that the thought of being knocked out terrified me as much as the ‘the snip’. Damn again.

Didn’t go home, went to the pub, got absolutely drunk as a skunk. This was not a bad policy because when I got home, I was too blasted to understand a word the wife said to me. We didn’t really talk for about four weeks – well barely anyway. Terrible guilt, especially after seeing how deeply hurt and upset my wife was.

Two or three months go by, my wife has given up on me and I feel like a cowardly sleazebag, knowing that another pregnancy could endanger my wife’s life and the security of my three kids. Now I’m angry, horny, and mean. The rabbit is becoming a vicious tiger. What does a desperate, mean, hard man do to achieve his ends? Of course, he calls his Mummy. I asked if she comes with me in secret for one last attempt. In my desperation, I knew that she would likely start bashing me over the head with her handbag if she thought I was messing with the charming, old-world Doc.

Fourth time

GOOD ADVICE IF YOU ARE HIGHLY STRUNG: I didn’t tell my wife I was going this time – takes the pressure off a bit! And get somebody really close to go with you. Somebody impartial who you know puts you first before all else. This helps convince you that you are doing the right thing if you are mostly happy about the concept, if not the process.

In fact, she showed amazing cunning and administered three cans of beer just before the op and a handful of mints to hide the smell. Again the lift, the gown, the tray of freaky-looking tools. I was led straight into the theatre by a very pretty, unmasked, unrobed blonde nurse – obviously a ploy by the wise, old Doc. She virtually shamed me into getting my trousers and undies off and onto the table with only a blanket for cover. Arrrggghhhh!

I was still giving the old “I’m still not sure about this” routine, but then the Doc appears and just injects me before I have time to really think about anything. The injection was actually quite uncomfortable, but I was just so sex-starved and full of guilt over my cowardness that I shut my eyes, thought of England, and let him get on with it. Nothing could be worse than the fear and anxiety I’d already gone through over previous months.

The experience was pretty uncomfortable, but I tried to block out any thought of what was going on, and just got a progress check from the Doc every now and then as he got on with the job. “One side done” etc. Otherwise, I was busy holding the hand of the blond nurse, giving her a hundred miles an hour life story about me, the wife, and the family. Soon enough it was over. Phew!

What a fantastic guy the Doc was. He smiled at it, as he dressed the operation site with absorbent pads, then gave it a comforting pat – bizarre but hilarious. I thanked him for his compassion, which I do not believe I deserved, and for saving my marriage – this guy was now my hero. I sat up nervously expecting my undercarriage to collapse as I stood up, but it didn’t. I shuffled out like Rumplestiltskin to the lift, and up to my Mother in reception. She was grinning all over her face – so was I. It was all over at last. The first thing I did was call my brother on the mobile, who refused to believe what I had done and hung up in shock.

After the operation

After a bumpy, scary ride home in a taxi, gripping the door handle, I took my Mother in the local club and got totally blasted, informing anybody that passed vaguely for an acquaintance what I had just had done – to be honest, I think I was still traumatized. Standing at the bar did not help me much and I ended up with a blood clot that took weeks to disperse – but it didn’t really hurt that much although it took about three weeks to get back to anything like normal. Obviously my own fault.

I can tell you that I got into bed at around 4 pm in the afternoon. My wife had been out, thinking that I’d been round at my Mum’s place helping out in the garden. When she returned, she was surprised to find me in bed. She was visibly shaken and disbelieving when I told her that I’d it done, but I was so satisfied, relieved, and proud of myself to say the least.

Now, clearly, I am neurotic, highly strung, and a bit daft. I really wish that I’d been a bit more mature and just got on with it the first time. I wasted my time and the time of my wife, my mother, and the Doc. But I know a lot of guys who won’t even try to get ‘the snip’. At least I managed somehow to find the courage and never gave up trying despite being terrified. Gotta be better than endangering my wife with an unwanted pregnancy. The rest is history!

Submitted by Neil