Now having played rugby for most of my life talking about my balls really doesn't come as a problem so I have decided to share my experiences of this rather delicate operation.
It all starts with the decision, do you want to find an alternative form of contraception and do you not want to have any more children? If so then the vasectomy is the answer.
Now the first thought that went through my head was "not another visit to the hospital" then I remembered that a friend of mine had told me he'd had his done at the doctors surgery. Well this is the part where my imagination kicks in based on my previous visits to the doctors and I start getting scared. First things first go see the doctor to make the request.
This bit was easy. You get leaflets explaining the procedure and the alternatives. Female sterilisation was one of the alternatives but my wife explained to me that this is much more complicated and has greater chance of failure. "Anyway" she elaborated "why should she have it done when she'd already pushed out two kids".
I guess she had a point.
The appointment was made.
I received a letter explaining all of the details of the appointment. Now this is where it gets interesting. Two days before the operation I had to shave my balls. Gulp! Well this went off better than expected with no slip ups. I do think though that this is a first test you have to pass. If you can shave off the hair from your balls then you are ready for the next step.
I spent several minutes admiring the job in the mirror and then decided to trim what was left so that it looked neat and tidy. Want to look my best when the doc starts fiddling away down there. Ended up looking a little like the last turkey in the shop but overall I'm quite pleased with the job. Had a moment there where I almost went to get my camera.
Next you need to get some support. I don't mean that you need to get a load of people to chant whilst the operation is being performed, I mean something to support your balls. You can buy special little hammocks at the chemists so I asked the missus to buy one. The chemist asked whether I was a small, medium or large. Well I like to think of myself as being a large but maybe she has a different take on things. In the end the chemist asked if I had some tight fitting pants or a pair of speedos and explained that these were just as effective. Luckily I had a pair of tight speedos which I had purchased for a rugby tour to France a couple of years earlier.
All set, time for the operation.
Well this wasn't quite what I expected. My wife and I went for the consultation which was more like a consent signing session but I was happy to continue. I was led into the operating room and asked to remove my trousers and pants and then hop onto the table. This I duly did and lay there with my crown jewels on display for the nurse and doctor. After having the area disinfected I had a cloth drapped over me which had a hole in it for my genitals to be pulled through. An injection into my scrotum numbed the area and the doctor went to work. The temptation for the doctor to say "just a little prick" before giving the injection must be overwelming but he resisted the urge.
I lay there looking at the skylight, listening to George Michael singing "well you gotta have faith, faith, faith" and took a moment to reflect on my life. Then I got distracted by the doctor and nurse talking about Peter Kaye and midgets and before I knew it the job was done.
Now I sit here wearing my speedos, typing this, and wonder what it's going to be like when the local anaesthetic and the alchohol from a few pints of beer has finally worn off.