Seven days ago I had a vasectomy. You’ll have known this was coming if you read my last blog. Around 20% of men in the UK choose to have a vasectomy, and whilst 1 in 5 isn’t an insignificant number, it still feels like I’m in a bit of an exclusive club.
I can’t remember when I verbalised my definitive intention to do so. It was probably sometime early on in my wife’s pregnancy, but it was always the plan. Kirsty has been on the pill for all eight years of our relationship, never mind the years before she met me, so it was my turn to take responsibility. We’re a family of four, happy and complete.
The process of booking the appointment was straightforward. I called my GP to arrange a telephone consultation, during which I was asked about my marital status and whether I had children, and seeing as I’m over 30 and married with two children, they were happy to make the referral. I then received a letter informing me of the five locations where the procedure could be done, four of which were within a 15 minute drive. I discounted one on account of an ex-girlfriend being a GP there, and whilst it was a long shot she’d be my consultant, I didn’t think it was worth the risk of any awkwardness.
There then followed an identical telephone consultation to the first before being officially booked in. Five weeks after the birth of my daughter I had taken action and was, if not excited, pleased to have got it booked in. It was at this point my wife regaled me with stories women she knew whose partners had booked a vasectomy, gone to the appointment, backed out and then lied about it before proceeding to get their partner pregnant again. I think she knew I’d never do that, but it was a subtle warning.
And so to two weeks later and my wife and kids are dropping me off at a health clinic. At no point until then had I been even remotely nervous but the moment I walked through the doors my heart started to beat faster. I watched a vlog several years ago from a guy who wanted to reassure other men that it was nothing to worry about, and he’d succeeded in convincing me until I found myself in a tiny consultation room, trousers around my ankles as a doctor inspected me like he was caressing dice before a big roll at the roulette table.
After signing the consent forms it was across the hall to the treatment room where the consultant and I were joined by a nurse and healthcare assistant, and I was instructed to take off everything but my shirt and lay down on the treatment table. There followed the iodine and blue sheet I used to see before surgeries on Holby City and then it was go time.
The local anaesthetic is injected into the scrotum, but not the testicles, and to be honest that was the worst part. And when I say worst, it was exactly the same sensation as having an injection in your arm. After that I felt no pain, only a little pulling. The nurse said it was important I keep talking throughout so we chatted about my work, my family and what Chris and I are trying to achieve with Fathercraft, and then it was done. From being dropped off at the door to texting Kirsty to come get me it was no longer than 25 pain-free minutes.
In the week since I’ve felt some discomfort and there’s some bruising but that’s completely normal. Ibuprofen and paracetamol were sufficient to keep it at bay in the first few days, but now the worse thing is the hair growing back after the doctor decided I hadn’t done a good enough job of shaving beforehand. I had to miss football this week and I doubt I’ll be ready next week, but otherwise I’d say I’m back to normal. The stitches will dissolve within eight weeks.
As for what’s next, I have to wait 16 weeks to provide a sample to make sure the procedure has worked. There’s a failure rate of about 1 in 2,000, so it’s important to continue with alternative forms of contraception before being given the all clear, lest you end up with an unwanted surprise.
It’s been a really positive experience and I would recommend it to any father who, with his wife or partner, has decided they don’t want any more children. It’s quick, easy, pain-free and way less invasive than anything our other halves have had to go through, both in terms of contraception and actually giving birth.
