Here’s where I’m putting my money. I’m betting that most of you Readers out there aren’t all that interested in me sharing the minutiae and details of my experiences getting a vasectomy, whether those were “before,” “during,” or “after.” I’m betting that you’d just as soon remain ignorant of those sorts of details.
For the mildly curious, it will suffice to say that I had the surgery after work Monday, in which there were some good moments and bad moments. I spent all of Tuesday in a painkiller-induced mental fog, in the intimate company of rotating bags of frozen peas.
For the morbidly curious, write me an e-mail and chances are that I’ll tell you all about what induced my near brush with vasovagal syncope. You’ll regret having asked, I promise you.
Today is Wednesday and yes, I’m still sore and moving slow. Bending over and sitting down are still challenging but I’ve ratcheted my painkillers down to large doses of ibuprofen. No, I don’t want to go horseback riding with you nor do I want to learn how to use a unicycle. Har-de-har-har.