Monday, January 26, 2009

"Four Days Out, and It's Still the Size of a Whoopie Cushion"




Last week, possessed by all-too-familiar body image demons, I got in a funk, wherein I stomped around and moaned to Groom, "I just can't lose these damn seven pounds. You know I want to blame it on my tortoise-like metabolism, but, yea, it might be more honest just to label it my Wine Weight. Poop, poop, poop, I hate this. I hate being hungry all day and still never losing a pound. Blah, blah, blah, blech, blech, blech, feh, meh, waaaaah."

In response, Groom threatened to throw the scale out the window, assured me people don't gasp in horror when I walk by, and we moved on with our lives.

Then.

The next day.

Groomeo-Groomeo went into the clinic for a quick and easy 45-minute elective surgery, one aimed at controlling global population, particularly within our house. Basically, he went in to have his vas deferens tightened and resurfaced.

An hour later, he was home, and as he stood there, peppily recounting to me the procedure, things changed.

Suddenly. Dramatically.

Eight hours later, freshly back from the hospital, I sent out a quick email rundown to select friends and family:


So if you've ever seen a Hallmark card that reads "Sorry About Your Botched Vasectomy!!!", go back now and purchase it. Then write "Jocelyn's Groom, c/o St. Luke's Hospital, Duluth" on the envelope and mail that sucker.

Yea, having a vasectomy is supposedly an easy in-and-out-of-the-clinic-in-under-an-hour procedure...but when you then get home and start holding forth about how it all went fine, while at the same time your expensive Kavu pants are suddenly drenched with a waterfall of blood...well, then, the "easy" procedure takes on something called "complications."

Within minutes, you find yourself laying on the bedroom floor on a stack of towels, holding three washcloths and a bag of ice to your Boy Parts as you ask your wife to bring you "some of those pad things you wear every month; I need something that really staunches the flow of blood."

Thirty seconds later, you might advise your wife to call the doc, who, upon hearing of the amount of blood smeared all over the floors of the second story of your home, tells the wife to "pack your husband in a plastic bag if you need to, but get him back up here, fast."

When you get back to the clinic, the doc will try to lance your cantaloupian groinal region with a scalpel repeatedly as he notes that he's not seen this type of problem after a vasectomy before. He will excuse himself from the room to talk to the urologist. He will return to the room minutes later and tell you they're expecting you at the ER downtown.

A quick slide down the hill, and you will be in a wheelchair and heading to the operating room at the hospital within six minutes of walking through the doors. By the time your wife hands over your insurance card, they'll have told you "in our parts, we call this an eggplant scrotum." They are very apt in their description.

Eight minutes after you enter the ER, you are in the operating room FOR FOUR FREAKING HOURS.

During all this, a sainted neighbor has watched, read to, fed, and tucked in your children. The low point of the evening occurs when your wife realizes she's just read every magazine in the waiting room, including the AARP periodical. She slaps herself when she realizes she enjoyed an article about alleviating joint pain.

A bit before nine p.m., lovely nurses secret your wife into the recovery room to see you before she heads home to Children of Love. You tell your wife, "I'm pretty confused. I feel like I've been run over." You eat lots of ice chips.

So it's a night in the hospital for Vasectomy Man, complete with complimentary drains in your scrotal sack, plus the bonus of a catheter. But they stopped all the bleeding and tell you there will be no long-term effects.

Despite this assurance to the Males of the World, you would like to urge them to consider continuing their fertility until they die, even if it means they have 24 children.

On that note, the tired wife, who has typed up this acccount, retires to her bottle of Shiraz.

Jocelyn

-------------------------------
The next day, we found out that, for some fluke reason, his vasectomy stitches had popped and caused the arteries on both sides down there to bleed buckets. While he ended up not needing a transfusion, his hemoglobin was low the next day, so Groom ended up spending two nights in the hospital.

He's been home two days now, hobbling around in his pajama pants, asking me periodically to fill another Ziploc bag with snow (the perfect anti-inflammatory). While he's planning a shuffle outside and down to the corner someday soon, just to take the air, it will still be some time before he drives or wears pants with a zipper.

After all the hullabaloo, we did have a lovely moment, though, on Saturday, when I bent down,

kissed his cheek,

and thanked him for finding exactly the right technique to help me

lose five pounds in two days.

28 comments:

Anonymous said...

Brian just went through the procedure as well and was whining, complaining and shuffling around for a week. I provided no sympathy. Heck, somehow I don't remember being told not to pick up more then 15 pounds after being cut open twice. And, I believe I only got two hours of sleep in a row for many weeks. He was hanging out on the couch doing nothing. He said my memory was distorted. Oh well, helping the global population feels good to me!
cheers,
Julie

citizen of the world said...

Oh my God! I didn't know they could go that nadly wrong! When my ex had his, he was up on a ladder the next day cleaning the siding on the house! I hope he is recovering well.(But yay on the bonus weight loss for you!)

Jeni said...

As serious as this issue was for Groomeo -and I'm sure scary for you too -forgive me when I confess that I was cracking up laughing while reading this. No, it wasn't laughter at Groomeo's expense, not really, but at your way with words in describing all that took place!
I do recall last summer -2007, not 2008 that is, when my SIL -the one who lives here with me, my daughter (his wife) and their two small kiddos -had that procedure done and good Lord, you'd have thought he was ready to be taken up to the heavens any minute then. A lot of Fred Sandford "Lisbeth, I'm comin" type stuff, ya know. And I was thinking too about how I'd gone through three major abdominal surgeries between 2003 and 2006 and he'd never once offered a lick of sympathy as I was recuperating from them, even when I managed somehow to have two herniated discs right after the first surgery -which was worse by far than the three surgeries combined. Not that I didn't have a modicum of sympathy for him -and would have too for any other male having chosen this procedure but... Well, you get my drift there I'm sure.
But for Groomeo, these were extenuating circumstances, to be sure. Now, why is it every time I think of what I read here, I still keep smiling, enjoying a little private, silent chuckle too. Glad things all did work out ok!

Balou said...

I hope he's recovering quickly. What a crazy two days! But who knew that a side effect of the snip was spousal weight loss?

Oh honey?...

lime said...

good lord but that is a horror story. i am so sorry to hear it but so glad they do not expect long term negative effects. if he wanted to demonstrate he was one in a million i think there were less dramatic ways to achieve it!

gentle hugs and much snow for poor groomeo.

Bob said...

gawd. mine went as advertised. snip, snip, bye bye, REST for the weekend and waddle for a day or so. (kinda hard to avoid the site of surgery when it hangs in between your locomotors.)

I did, however, several years later have a fistula repaired in the 'taint region that required the wearing of certain feminine products that come with (or without) wings. I am well acquainted with blood-soaked crotches. Also - it's a bitch getting a hair (or two) caught in the adhesive. just sayin'.

Shania said...

Good grief! We must never speak of this again, lest my husband learn of it. Then all hope will be lost for the planned snipping.

I do hope groomeo heals well and quickly.

Becky Cazares said...

I had to read the post twice because of the initial panicky rush to get to the obligatory fairy tale ending that seemed was not coming near fast enough! My goodness. Suddenly feel the need for a small glass of the pinkish alcohol-laden stuff myself!

flutter said...

THAT is a supportive hubby.

geewits said...

That's really awful. I've never heard of vasectomy complications before. And of course now that this is out there on the worldly webs, men will find it and gleefully shout at their wives, "SEE!"

monica said...

Oh my goodness, what drama! With a happy end though. Fortunately also for Groomeo, eventually...
When my man had it done, he was off course a bit sore ( pardon, he IS a man so he was ENORMOUSLY sore) and to cheer him a bit up I rented the Movie "Bridget Jones' Diary"... it is funny, we laughed, he went " laugh - groan - laugh - moan etc.)... ah, well....

Patience said...

Yikes! It must've really been bad for him to have asked for those feminine product things to wear.

I've heard of that happening, but usually it's because somebody did something he wasn't supposed to be doing . . . like lifting 15 pounds of something.

Congrats on losing the five pounds!

Jazz said...

That's insane. When Mr. Jazz had his, it was a couple of days of ice and rental movies.

Did Groomeo piss of his doctor in any way?

Now erase this post forthwith because otherwise no male will ever accept to do this again.

Cynnie said...

Oh lord..thats so horrible..

part of me wants to say ..eh, i had a baby and 24 hours later i was doing laundry..

but ..the day a guy asks his wife for feminine menstrual products..
it's just a sad scary day .

chelle said...

e - frikin - gads!

I am so not allowing my husband to read this. Now that I am pregnant with his third love child he is so marching in to the dr after all is said and done!

Glad your man is doing better!

Tracy Griffin - Artist said...

Holy Crap!

Just... Holy Crap!

Bethany/Her Grace said...

I will never, ever, EVER let my husband see this post. Not even if you offered to empty my dishwasher and sort my socks for a whole year.

Nor will I ever utter the words "eggplant scrotum" in his presence.

Hope Groomie feels better soon.

Pam said...

My daughter is a registered nurse.On shown a piece of jewellery I liked, she said "Don't like it Mum, looks like a polycystic ovary". Guess I won't be putting an elongated eggplant on her plate any time soon.Hope Groomeo enjoyed the "comfort, security and peace of mind" from his feminine product that we are said to enjoy, and that he feels a lot better. Well done to you as well.Good god. Who would have thought!

Chantal said...

Oh my Joselyn, I am so glad to hear he is okay. And I am never letting my hubby read this. He is already squeamish about "the procedure" and is still on the fence about getting it done.

Casdok said...

Oh the poor man. Hope hes healing well.

Kylie w Warszawie said...

Oh goodness. My husband can NEVER read this.

EVER.

And I read the last line of "groom's account" as being "third wife". When I realized my mistake, I laughed out loud.

Jill said...

I bet Groom will never eat eggplant again. So sad.

heartinsanfrancisco said...

I'm so sorry that you both had to go through this, but don't you just hate it when roommates "forget" to buy their own sanitary supplies?

It really sounds gruesome. Who knew that controlling global populations could be so cruel and devious? I do hope everything is pain-free and in good working order again soon.

phd in yogurtry said...

Poor guy, no telling what he was imagining. Lots of TLC for him.

Oh, and, so glad my hubby didn't read this before his big snip.

Maddy said...

I don't suppose tea and sympathy would help under the circumstances.
Cheers

Say It said...

booo, and yet, yeah! helping global population, pounds are lost, and now your husband can have a trump card. Everyone wins!!

Patois said...

I came over from Maddy because she gave you an ROFL for it. Seeing as I doubt Hallmark makes a card such as you describe, here's hoping that ROFL will cheer your sterile husband way up.

pistols at dawn said...

This is the second botched vasectomy story I've read on the interwebs, and as much as I want to ensure that the results on the Maury show I'll inevitably be dragged to prove that I am, in fact, not the father, I cannot imagine willingly going in for such a procedure. Although I have dated a lot of vegetarians who might be interested in at least the first half of "eggplant scrotum."