Wednesday, December 10, 2008

To snip or not to snip

Before my wife and I had children, I thought it would be cool to have twins.
A boy and a girl, get it over and done with in one shot.
But after my oldest son arrived I realized how naive - and somewhat delusional - the thought was.
Two at once! Are you crazy? I could barely handle the one I had let alone a second one.
They would tag team me into a straight jacket.
I don't even want to think about multiple births like sextuplets. Six kids all throwing up at the same time. Six overflowing diapers. Six midnight feedings. I don’t think so.
I have witnessed the devastation one child can bring upon the land, I couldn't imagine what a small army of them could do.
My home would be awash in kid kaka.
Thanks to a merciful and loving God, we only had one at a time. Son No. 2 came along a couple years after son No. 1, and a few years after that our daughter was born.
After some discussion we decided three was enough. I had bagged my limit, they were all keepers and it was time to close the baby factory.
It was time to get “The Snip.”
Normally, having sharp objects around that area of my physique is cause for alarm, but my wife assured me that I would be in the hands of a skilled doctor and it would be fine.
So I made an appointment and prepared to be neutered.
I was quite calm about the decision and was excited I would no longer have to worry about hearing the two words that struck terror in the very depths of my soul - "I'm pregnant."
Whenever I had a dream like that, I would shake uncontrollably while lying in bed hoping for a nightmare that involved a flesh-rending creature, not kid spew and diapers. Oh, for want of a relaxing dream of being chased by some unspeakable horror while I ran through the forest (in slow motion of course) wearing only a Speedo and shower cap.
I had no concerns about the procedure until a good friend of mine called and told me about his “minor operation.”
Why is it whenever you are about to undergo some form of procedure you hear nothing but horror stories about someone else's procedure?
"Yeah, so I went in to get the "Snip" and I came out a woman. It was a bit of a shock at first, but once you get used to it..."
For my friend, Mike, the problems didn’t start until after the procedure. The doctor did the job as planned and Mike went home to rest and recuperate.
He had a couple days off work so Mike decided to do some light work around the yard while he was healing and that’s when his problems began.
He must have exerted himself more than he should have and he said one of his, um, well you know, swelled to the size of a softball.
Along with the swelling came extreme tenderness to the point where the weight of air was causing him pain.
I would have enjoyed the situation much more had I not been next in line for the same procedure. Knowing it could happen to me took all the fun out of watching his misery.
During a phone call with Mike, he described the tragedy that was unfolding and said the following, “Man, you should see it.”
No thanks.
The last thing I want to see is a deformed, softball size one of those, especially his.
He also used the word grapefruit to describe his self-induced tragedy. (To this day I cannot even look at a grapefruit the same way.)
His situation lasted for a couple of weeks and I was growing concerned about what the future held for me.
The fateful day came and I went to the doctor’s office to have the ‘procedure.’ I was not sure exactly what to expect.
I had never met this doctor before and I half expected to see a Dr. Frankenstein wannabe who was eagerly looking for that one final body part he needed to finish his monstrous creation.
But he turned out to be a regular doctor with no beakers or a hunchback assistant or anything out of the norm.
“Hi doc, how are you doing today?
“I’m fine.”
“That’s good. Hey, you don’t like grapefruits do you?”The doctor checked the chart to see if he was dealing with a mental patient rather than someone who had fathered his limit.
Fortunately the ‘procedure’ went off without a hitch. No grapefruits, softballs or any other abnormally sized fruits or athletic equipment.
I spent the next couple days lounging as the doctor had told me to do and had no adverse affects whatsoever – much to Mike’s disappointment.
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