The Consultation (part 2 of 5)

I’m sitting in a physician waiting room with a dozen or so normal people. They are here for the things you’d expect from people in a physician’s waiting room – colds, fevers, aches and pains, annual physicals. They’re here for the right reasons. They belong here, and when they walk out they will be on their way to feeling better.

I’ll bet none of them are here to get neutered.

Yes, I am here to consult with a urologist about a vasectomy. I have voluntarily walked in to this office for the express purpose of discussing with another man the process, and prospect, of taking a sharp instrument and removing some of the plumbing around, how can I say this delicately, the Family Jewels.

I’ve done a little bit of research before coming in here, but not much. I mean, I’m either going to do this or I’m not. Reading all kinds of medical mumbo-jumbo online isn’t going to make me feel any better. I need to look a doctor right in the eye and get the story from the guy who is going to wield the knife.

Wield the knife. The thought makes my you-know-whats shrivel at the mere thought.

After some mindless reading from the stack of months-old periodicals in the waiting room the receptionist calls my name. I go to the desk; she smiles and says, “Dr. Jackson will see you now.”

Apparently Dr. Bobbitt isn’t in today.

A nurse leads me to an examination room, offers me a seat, closes the door and leaves.

Just a side note – why is it that whenever you have to go to see a doctor you have to wait in an exam room after you’ve already waited in a waiting room? That kind of bugs me.

The exam room is white and sterile. There is even less to read here than in the main waiting room. In fact, there is nothing to do in here but sit and wonder WHAT THE HELL AM I THINKING!!!!! At that moment the door opens and the doctor walks in.

He’s a younger doctor, tall and trim. I’m guessing late 30’s or early 40’s. Looks like he keeps in shape. Not wearing glasses – maybe contacts? His eyesight better be damn good for what I’m here to talk about. We make some small talk as I watch his hands. No sign of spasms or shaking – that’s good.

He starts to talk about the procedure in very clinical terms. I hear him say ‘local anesthesia.’

“You’ll mean I’ll be awake for this?”

“Oh, yes,” he says. “This is an outpatient procedure; it’ll take less than an hour. We’ll do it in this office, just down the hall.” Somehow I thought I’d be out cold. “In fact,” he says, “I’ll give you the play-by-play of the procedure as we go along.”

He goes on to tell me how they will make two small incisions, remove portions of the tubes that carry the sperm, tie the tubes off and cauterize them to prevent the sperm from reaching their intended destination.

Cauterize?

“Yes,” he says, “we cut the tubes and tie them off at each end, and we also cauterize each end of the tube. You see, the body will try to heal itself. The tubes will attempt to grow back together and re-attach. We want to make that as unlikely as possible.”

It seems like overkill to me. He says, “I do it that way, some doctors only cut and tie. However, there have been several cases where the tubes have reconnected after several years.” He looks at me and says, “Seems to me if you’re going to do this, you don’t want to have an accident down the road. We want to be as sure was we can that you won’t have a problem.” He sites one case in particular where the man had a vasectomy, the woman her tubes tied, and they still got pregnant.

I honestly don’t know how that could be, but he said it.

To put it bluntly, that would suck

I ask about insurance. It turns out that insurance will pay for this procedure, even though it’s elective and not medically necessary. Why? “It’s cheaper for the insurance company to pay for this than to pay for a pregnancy, delivery and follow-up care for a baby,” he says.

I didn’t know that.

He talks a bit more about the procedure, tells me that ‘almost’ 100% of these procedures are free of ‘complications.’ He also tells me that about 20% of the people who have this initial consultation don’t follow through with the procedure.

Is that a challenge?

He hands me a pamphlet that explains everything he just said. He asks me if I have any questions.

“No,” I say.

He looks at me, a slight smile on his face, and says, “Do you have the balls to go through with this?”

Did he really just say that?

I pause. I’m not letting that one go by. “Yes,” I say, “just make sure they’re still there when you’re done.”

He smiles, shakes my hand. “We’ll see you two weeks from Friday. 4:00 p.m. You’ll need the weekend to recover.”

When I get home I check the calendar. That Friday won’t be the 13th.

I guess I’ll go through with it.

It’s great to be The (gulp!) Family Man

Next: Part 3 – The Cut.