My wife and I knew we wanted two kids. Just one kid seemed a little lonely, and I was pretty sure any more than two would crush my will to live. So after our second child was born, we knew it was time to figure out future contraception. My wife didn’t want to be on the pill anymore, and I wasn’t about to go back to condoms (they’re fun and exciting when you’re single, but when you’re married, not so much). So I suggested that I get a vasectomy. Said suggestion was met with positive reviews.
Before I could take the plunge, so to speak, my urologist had me sign a bunch of forms, checking and double-checking to make sure that I really, REALLY wanted the vasectomy. I mean, who goes into an urologist’s office, thinking, “Yeah, maybe I kind of want to get a vasectomy sort of… possibly?” There is no middle ground when it comes to elective surgery on your penis. It is a yes or no situation.
After a few more questions and a few more forms, the doctor set a time for my appointment.
“I like to do these late Friday afternoon so you’ll have the weekend to recover. Okay?”
“Great,” I said.
“And you might want to tell your wife that you’ll be pretty laid up for the weekend. She’ll probably have to take care of the kids until Monday.”
I immediately went into shock.
“I’m sorry, Doc, I think I misheard you. Can you repeat that last part again?”
“YOUR WIFE WILL HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF THE KIDS UNTIL MONDAY.”
I almost ran up to the doctor and kissed him. No sweeter words have ever been said to me.
And yet, it got better.
When I told my wife about how she would have to watch the kids without my help for the weekend, she thought a minute then said,
“Well, maybe I’ll just take the kids down to San Diego to see their cousins for the weekend. That way you can recuperate on your own.”
Tears streamed from my eyes as I ran to my wife and hugged her. An entire weekend to myself? That was like my birthday and Christmas, all rolled into one!
That Friday, I drove to the doctor’s office with a huge smile on my face. All I could think about was how I would have an entire weekend all by my lonesome, something I hadn’t had in a long time. I couldn’t believe I was actually thinking this, but I was excited for my vasectomy.
Forty-seven minutes later, it was finished. The doctor reminded me to rest all weekend and assured me that by Monday I’d be fine. He shook my hand and left and I pulled up my jeans and drove myself home.
So that Saturday morning, as I sat on the couch with a bottle of Advil by my side and a bag of frozen peas on my lap, my wife, my almost 3-year-old son, and nearly 1-year-old daughter kissed me goodbye and drove down to San Diego, leaving me all by myself to recuperate.
I was alone for the first time in such a long time. It felt incredible. So much quiet. No one crying. No one asking me for something. I sat on the couch for about a half an hour, not doing anything. I just stared off into space, soaking in the idea of having so much alone time. And then I immediately reverted back to my former, 22-year-old, post-collegiate self.
Here is what I did for the entire weekend:
I laid on the couch all day. That is not an exaggeration. All. Day.
I listened to music. The music of my youth. Mostly anything deemed “gangsta rap” that indiscriminately dropped F-bombs left and right.
I read books – my books. Not kids books. Grown up books with big words that did not rhyme.
I watched TV – a lot of TV. I think I watched Die Hard at least twice and the entire Godfather trilogy (yes, including the third).
I napped – glorious, beautiful naps. Then I would wake up and nap again just on principle.
I ate crappy food. My meals consisted of chips, cookies, fried mozzarella sticks, meatball subs, and a liter of Diet Coke. Anything that could be delivered to me was fair game.
I played video games until three in the morning. Stupid video games with stupid violence in them that turned my brain into mush, but I was too gloriously happy to care.
I did not shower for two and a half days. That was under doctor’s orders… who am I to argue with a medical professional?
It was the best weekend of my life.
So, to you dads out there considering getting sterilized, I would say go for it – if for no other reason than to have your ultimate weekend. Had I known that getting my manhood sliced up would have given me my youth back, albeit for a 48-hour window, I may have gotten the vasectomy much, much sooner.