Violated

So, to begin this week's diatribe, let me begin by stating:

WARNING:
IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO EXPERIENCE VERBAL EXPLANATIONS OF A GRAPHIC NATURE, READ NO FURTHER...PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

Still here? OK, don't say I didn't warn you!

So as most parents consider at one time or another, do we want to have more kids? It's a question of monumental importance, since, unless you're quite young, you do only have a reasonable amount of time to have children before the risks begin to get greater. (which of course begs the conversation that after 35 your risks increase, so why do so many celebrities have kids well into their 40's seemingly with no risks whatsoever...yet I digress)

Of course as a married couple you must engage in the debate as to whether we WANT more children, what the risks may involve, timing, can we afford such offspring, and in our case, the medical implications of pregnancy. Well over the past few months it had been decided that we were done. Not "done", like I just poked the chicken on the grill and its cooked (of course one could suggest that being done, our children have indeed "cooked" us-or at least my sanity and patience) We had just come to the conclusion that we had two beautifully wonderful children and we were done. Therefore, in order to avoid any "mistakes" we should look into a surgical solution. Now being the magnanimous husband I am, I would opt for the less surgical, invasive procedure, being the adjustment (read: cutting) of my first favorite little friend rather than my lovely wife going under the knife. (hey! I'm a poet and I don't even know it!)

Now for those of you who have never experienced going to a surgeon for something, they first must do a "consult". What this means is that you have to go and meet the doctor and let them talk you out of what you want. In truth, this is another reason to pay yet another co-pay. I'm not really against consults...I mean if I were to have a face lift, it would be an important thing...but for what I was wanting, what exactly do they need to consult-is there some confusion here?

So I enter the office, in uniform...and when I finally meet the doctor (40 minutes later of course) during his barrage of questioning, what does he ask me...so what do you do? Hmmm, this is a guy who has his medical license right?? I mean he has achieved the pinnacle of educational advancement...right? RIGHT?? Well, after discussing my job and of course the dangers (and injuries sustained) that go along with them, he makes a rather sad attempt to relate by looking at his right hand. I view his three fingers (pointer, middle and ring) which look rather disfigured and his one nail is completely black. He says "well, I understand about injuries, I broke my three fingers a few months ago)...again, he's the surgeon right, with three broken fingers...great, he probably operate and I'll walk out with an additional exit hole in my rear!!

Then the doctor says, OK well I need to do a cursory examination of you. Let's focus on that word for a minute...cursory. Meaning overview, not detailed. All right, I get that, get the once over, make sure there's nothing wrong under the hood, per se.

So after the initial unpleasantness, where apparently while he is "examining" me we're getting to "know each other"... a form of medical foreplay (he actually has me feel what he's going to cut...like I really need that!), the doc says to me" OK, now turn around, bend over and put your arms on the table. He says this as I observe him grab this tube of Costco-sized petroleum jelly. At first I think I'm in some weird universe...isn't it my job to tell someone to turn around and spread it??

Let me stop here and note...the etymology of the term "vasectomy" is broken down to "vas" and "ectomy"...as in the cutting of the vas-deferins. Now, lets review, nowhere in this etymology does it say, "stranger sticking his lubed finger in the out orifice".

Now you can only imagine what occurred next. (yes mom, I'll avoid the details just for you!) As I am experiencing this violation of epic proportions, all I have are visions of Chevy Chase in "Fletch" singing "Moon River". "Moooon River, Whew! Thanks doc, ever serve time?) What I wanted to say to this medical professional, was, "at least I thought I'd get a dinner out of this...do you have a cigarette?" (why is it the best, smart ass comments come to us later?!)

Well now having my innards poked and prodded, lets just say that the surgery is a go...(and yes, no unusual prostate surprises either! I AM only 34 you know!)

More later on the result...maybe I'll have some pictures, wouldn't that be fun!