The Gentle V

One dad who always seems to nail it is Ryan Reynolds and he’s done it again with his Aviation Gin post for Father’s Day with his signature drink, the Vasectomy. It got me thinking about my own experience and in the spirit of swapping stories over a fine beverage, pour yourself a Vasectomy and read on.

I thought having my vasectomy at a clinic that was literally called “The Gentle V” was an excellent start. Located in small town Ontario, the building was tucked away from the downtown core in a quiet spot surrounded by trees, and a charming pond with swans floating about with puppies on their backs. Or at least that’s how I remember it, the realities of what was to come slightly clouded my memory.

Check-in was efficient, friendly and included numbing cream with a glass of sparkling water. When my number was called I strode in with confidence, dropped my drawers with purpose and hopped atop the bed confident that I was safely and quite literally in the hands of someone who had completed dozens of these a day, for years. So when he brought out the needle and explained that he’d be freezing the area for the procedure I was completely relaxed. That only lasted a minute or two.

I thought something was up when I felt the incision.

“Stay still please.” I was instructed.

I became more unsettled when I saw smoke. “Wait… Is that smoke?” I asked.

“Totally normal.” I was told.

I began questioning my inner fortitude when I felt an intense and burning heat. I bit my lip. This must be what all guys go through I thought.

And then it was unmistakable. I felt a cut, a searing sensation in an area of my body that I least want to experience pain. My body spasmed as I stifled a cry. A head jerked up to meet my eye.

“Wait, can you feel this?” I was asked.

He tugged on a part of my insides that aren’t normally meant to be tugged on and in a fraction of a second every pore in my body pumped out sweat, drenching me instantly.

“YES!” I cried.

That’s when the wheels fell off. The whites of his eyes went as large as dinner plates. He jabbed at the intercom button and ordered the nurse to urgently arrive with fresh towels, more freezing solution and, what I thought was a nice touch, a glass of orange juice.

“Drink it.” I was told.

When my vision came back and my sugar levels were restored I was given an update.

“The first side didn’t freeze properly. I need to finish and then I’ll give the second side another shot. That should be better.” I was told.

It was. Round two didn’t feel a thing. So that’s how it should be I recall thinking. I gingerly got dressed.

“Well now you can tell your wife you’ve experienced a pain similar to childbirth!” I was jokingly told with a slap on my shoulder. I refrained from telling him I thought this currency would be of little use to me and duck-walked out.

Science is marvellous and humans are imperfect but a great drink will always be a great drink. Here’s to the vasectomy.

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