Someone who's not your doctor really shouldn't be telling you what to do with/to your body, in my opinion.
Vasectomies
- Thread starter Mr Light
- Start date
Someone who's not your doctor really shouldn't be telling you what to do with/to your body, in my opinion.
Wiki said it was 5 to 35% but in a case like this I always go with the worst case scenario
Yeah, I really trust Wikipedia.Here's a good test: We've had several people here saying they've had the procedure. If 35% is true, we'll surely have SOMEONE post here soon saying that they have chronic pain from it. Surely they'll post any minute now...
Quite right, which is why his wife should stop taking the pill. If he wants to have sex it's up to him to figure out the best option that doesn't involve messing with his wife's body forever.
That probably means condoms or a vasectomy. It's his choice but as for me...I hate condoms.
Maybe they're in too much pain to type.
Forever? Explain to me why a *surgical procedure* is less 'forever' than a pill which the woman can stop taking at any time. (Why is it okay to mess with the guy's body, but not the girl's?) Does the pill have permanent effects that linger even if she stops taking it?
It has side effects WHILE she's taking it. That's not fair to do forever.
I didn't say he had to have surgery, did I? Someone said that no one should force the guy to have surgery and I noted that no one should force to woman to stay on drugs that alter her body. I'm pretty sure both of those statements are correct.
CaptainHawk1
Commodore
MT, You couldn't have put it better on any point.
To the OP: This isn't a decision you should be making at 27 when you don't have kids yet (I make the distinction because my wife's cousin is 27 and has two kids already and is sure he and his wife don't want any more.). The issue isn't that you don't ever see yourself wanting kids, but it's more than likely (just biologically speaking) that your soon-to-be-wife may change her mind (and you'd be surprised how you might feel in a couple of years when your other married friends have kids and you don't
).For my wife and I, we wanted kids but just didn't want them as soon as we got them, but sometimes that's how life is.
And For the record, I am considering the same thing at 33 for the same reason that MT did: it's an incredibly simple procedure compared to tubal ligation (not to mention a helluvalot cheaper) and a lot to reverse if my wife changes her mind down the road (and I say my wife because I wouldn't mind more kids, but my wife who just had our second on March 17, doesn't wan any more).
My mother had a tubal ligation reversed and besides the cost, it took a terrible toll on her physically and it's rare that it takes (it did wit her, but she wasn't able to get pregnant).
As far as having it done for myself, I don't know why, but I have no apprehendion about medical procedures at all. My theory is just knock me out before hand.
Totally worth it, though I didn't take the advice to take the next day off work which was a really bad idea. I ended up having some kind of large blood clot that took months to absorb, so for awhile there it was like one of my testicals was double the normal size.
No chronic pain and pretty trouble free, though you do need to give it six months and get a fertility test before you're free and clear. I already have a child; if I didn't I suspect I would have been turned down (I was 35 or 36) and I strongly suggest if you're under 30 you DO NOT have it done simply because whilst it is reversible it isn't %100 successfully reversible and I really wouldn't want that surgery done twice.
And disappointingly sperm is a very small part of your ejaculate so getting a vasectomy produces no detectible difference in your output...
No chronic pain and pretty trouble free, though you do need to give it six months and get a fertility test before you're free and clear. I already have a child; if I didn't I suspect I would have been turned down (I was 35 or 36) and I strongly suggest if you're under 30 you DO NOT have it done simply because whilst it is reversible it isn't %100 successfully reversible and I really wouldn't want that surgery done twice.
And disappointingly sperm is a very small part of your ejaculate so getting a vasectomy produces no detectible difference in your output...
Yeah, my doc told me "You're not sterile until I tell you you're sterile!"
^ Why, did you want it to turn a different color?
I was hoping for less of it or a different consistency at least; with the exception of not having sperm there's no difference at all. Other than a gap in the tubes from the testes to the seminal vesicles and barely visible scars I've got nothing to show for it!
I can totally understand why people get it done, but damn, I'm just too feart to get my balls snippity snipped.
We seem to find it impossible to conceive again though so I'm doubting I'll ever need to get it.
We seem to find it impossible to conceive again though so I'm doubting I'll ever need to get it.
Yeah, at least they could have hooked up a chocolate flavor dispenser.^ Why, did you want it to turn a different color?
Other than a gap in the tubes from the testes to the seminal vesicles
Whilst I think that's gross, some plastic surgeon should really invent it...
Once we found out Number Three was enroute, I got sent in, for my birthday present. Otherwise, we'd be, like, the Duggers by now.
I had read about the procedure, and they snip the vas deferens, cauterize the ends, and let them retract back into the scrotum. I had also heard that every great once in a while, the cauterized ends find each other and somehow make a new connection, resulting in fertility again. The odds against that are extraordinarily high, but to make sure that didn't happen at all, I made a suggestion to my doctor to cut an inch-long section out of the vas deferens, then cauterize the ends, making it even more unlikely, nigh impossible, that the ends will find each other. He was amenable to my request. To ensure compliance...I watched the procedure.
My instructions were to come in for outpatient surgery after lunch on Friday, with sweatpants and a newly-purchased jock strap, still in the package. I soon found myself sitting on the edge of an examination table, nude from the waist down, with the sides of my scrotum shaved. Not down to the skin, mind you, but pretty well shorn down. Strange looking, to say the least.
I began to have second thoughts when they brought in the needle. It looked like something you'd tranquilize a rhinoceros with. A local anesthetic, they said. While I wanted to watch the procedure, not only for my own education but to make sure I could give a trained medical professional my $0.02 worth, this part I could not watch. And this part was the most painful part of the whole thing, post-operation including. I lay back on the examination table and my fingers left indentations in the steel as cold and impersonable hands grabbed my nutsack and a hypodermic needle began its inexorable penetration into my most sacred possession. I don't know what was worse, the pain from the needle being worked around, or the stinging sensation of the local anesthetic being sprayed throughout the interior of my nuts. All I knew was that to move would be to suffer indescribable agony. After an eternity, it was over and the probe withdrew, and I dried a manly tear and was allowed to sit up.
I was astonished to find that in the intervening half-minute, my teabags had swollen to half-again their normal volume, with the anesthetic. And the pain was rapidly diminishing. The nurse said they'd return in about ten or fifteen minutes, then start the procedure. After about ten minutes, I began testing to make sure I felt no pain. The doctor and nurse were visibly surprised to walk in and find me flicking my nuts with my fingers, hard, so I could reassure myself I felt no pain at all. They bade me to lay down for the time being, and said once they had the vas deferens out I could sit up and check things out. They asked me if I felt pain or pressure, and I said no, I could feel nothing, and then they told me the anesthetic must be working, for they had made the incisions and if I felt any pain at all, I'd be through the ceiling. In short order, I was allowed to sit up and was astonished to find...
...the cords through which my three progeny previously passed on their epic journey to life were hanging just outside my scrotum, with medical forceps dangling from them. They look like strands of boiled spaghetti, though slightly larger in diameter. The doctor asked me if I still wanted to have a segment cut from each one, and I said yes.
He then pulled with the forceps on the first cord, and though technically I knew they were not looped up over my shoulder, I could still feel pressure pulling my shoulders down and my head down. He told me to sit up, but I could not. So, hunched over like Quasimodo, I watched as he attached two more forceps to either side of the cut-out segment, then took small snippers and cut out about an inch of cord, the forceps keeping the ends from retracting into my nutsack. He then pulled each end a little further out in turn, and I got to savor the enjoyable smell of my own flesh burning as he cauterized each end in turn. As he removed each forcep, the end retracted itself, earthworm-like, into my sack, and it felt as if a weight had been literally lifted from my shoulders as I was able to sit up straight again. The procedure was repeated on the other side of my nuts, and I felt no pain, merely pressure.
The jock strap was presented, and the nurse put antibacterial ointment, then gauze pads, on the wounds. The strap held everything up so nothing would dangle (and reopen the wounds), and the sweat pants helped with the comfort. I was given a prescription for painkillers, which I filled at the pharmacy on the ground floor before continuing home. I was told to go straight home and rest all weekend, and at first I thought the doctor was exaggerating, as I felt fine when I left the parking lot. Thirty minutes later, coming into my town, I was popping the painkillers like M&Ms, sweating like a pig.
And the stairs leading up to our second-floor apartment never felt so steep or numerous. Each step was a new experience in pain and suffering. At last I reached our floor. I opened the door to our apartment to share the story with my wife...not that I expected sympathy after the rigors of two childbirths from her, no, not that...and was rewarded with the smiling cherub face of my preschooler. "Daddy!", she cried with delight, as she ran across the living room to give me the hug I had grown accustomed to. Right then, I realized that her head was just about that height, and as she impacted me, I raised my leg to block her. She thudded into my leg and sat down hard and began to cry, not understanding what she was about to do. I sat down hard and began to cry as well, as when I raised my leg to block her from the pain zone I squashed the twins, you may say, and the raw and burning agony from that brought tears anew to me, and tears of laughter to my wife over the spectacle that unfolded before her.
In short order, she had the little one comforted and I lay on the bed, a Ziploc bag filled with ice and wrapped in a washcloth on either side of my nuts. And there I remained, for a few hours. The post-operative notes said it was fine to shower in 48 hours, so on Sunday afternoon I showered and took stock of the situation. By then I felt fine other than the occasional twinge, but my testicles looked like I had gone a few rounds with FBI interrogation electrodes; the entry points were red but healing, but my nuts were slightly bruised. By Monday, I was good to go, and returned to work, where I regaled my (male) coworkers with the tale of woe.
As the wife was pregnant in her first trimester with the third child, there was ample time to "cleanse the pipes", as it were...it is recommended that for six weeks after a vasectomy, you have frequent ejaculations to ensure any remaining sperm in the portion of the vas deferens that connects to the prostate is removed...so we were able to enjoy the benefits of the Big V without any risk of pregnancy.
That was October of 1991. No nut pain ever since, no more children, no more fear of untimed pregnancies, no need for condoms, no need to "pull out" (let's face it, guys, the pull-out method isn't much fun, is it?); all juice, no seed! There is no substantial difference in either the amount or appearance of your ejaculation in the before-and-after samples.
So if you KNOW you don't want children (and your wife feels the same way, if you're married), then by all means go and have it done. The benefits far outweigh the potential drawbacks. I have never met anyone who had significant, lasting complications of having a vasectomy. Heard many an old wives' tale, but never for real.
Hope this helps.
I had read about the procedure, and they snip the vas deferens, cauterize the ends, and let them retract back into the scrotum. I had also heard that every great once in a while, the cauterized ends find each other and somehow make a new connection, resulting in fertility again. The odds against that are extraordinarily high, but to make sure that didn't happen at all, I made a suggestion to my doctor to cut an inch-long section out of the vas deferens, then cauterize the ends, making it even more unlikely, nigh impossible, that the ends will find each other. He was amenable to my request. To ensure compliance...I watched the procedure.
My instructions were to come in for outpatient surgery after lunch on Friday, with sweatpants and a newly-purchased jock strap, still in the package. I soon found myself sitting on the edge of an examination table, nude from the waist down, with the sides of my scrotum shaved. Not down to the skin, mind you, but pretty well shorn down. Strange looking, to say the least.
I began to have second thoughts when they brought in the needle. It looked like something you'd tranquilize a rhinoceros with. A local anesthetic, they said. While I wanted to watch the procedure, not only for my own education but to make sure I could give a trained medical professional my $0.02 worth, this part I could not watch. And this part was the most painful part of the whole thing, post-operation including. I lay back on the examination table and my fingers left indentations in the steel as cold and impersonable hands grabbed my nutsack and a hypodermic needle began its inexorable penetration into my most sacred possession. I don't know what was worse, the pain from the needle being worked around, or the stinging sensation of the local anesthetic being sprayed throughout the interior of my nuts. All I knew was that to move would be to suffer indescribable agony. After an eternity, it was over and the probe withdrew, and I dried a manly tear and was allowed to sit up.
I was astonished to find that in the intervening half-minute, my teabags had swollen to half-again their normal volume, with the anesthetic. And the pain was rapidly diminishing. The nurse said they'd return in about ten or fifteen minutes, then start the procedure. After about ten minutes, I began testing to make sure I felt no pain. The doctor and nurse were visibly surprised to walk in and find me flicking my nuts with my fingers, hard, so I could reassure myself I felt no pain at all. They bade me to lay down for the time being, and said once they had the vas deferens out I could sit up and check things out. They asked me if I felt pain or pressure, and I said no, I could feel nothing, and then they told me the anesthetic must be working, for they had made the incisions and if I felt any pain at all, I'd be through the ceiling. In short order, I was allowed to sit up and was astonished to find...
...the cords through which my three progeny previously passed on their epic journey to life were hanging just outside my scrotum, with medical forceps dangling from them. They look like strands of boiled spaghetti, though slightly larger in diameter. The doctor asked me if I still wanted to have a segment cut from each one, and I said yes.
He then pulled with the forceps on the first cord, and though technically I knew they were not looped up over my shoulder, I could still feel pressure pulling my shoulders down and my head down. He told me to sit up, but I could not. So, hunched over like Quasimodo, I watched as he attached two more forceps to either side of the cut-out segment, then took small snippers and cut out about an inch of cord, the forceps keeping the ends from retracting into my nutsack. He then pulled each end a little further out in turn, and I got to savor the enjoyable smell of my own flesh burning as he cauterized each end in turn. As he removed each forcep, the end retracted itself, earthworm-like, into my sack, and it felt as if a weight had been literally lifted from my shoulders as I was able to sit up straight again. The procedure was repeated on the other side of my nuts, and I felt no pain, merely pressure.
The jock strap was presented, and the nurse put antibacterial ointment, then gauze pads, on the wounds. The strap held everything up so nothing would dangle (and reopen the wounds), and the sweat pants helped with the comfort. I was given a prescription for painkillers, which I filled at the pharmacy on the ground floor before continuing home. I was told to go straight home and rest all weekend, and at first I thought the doctor was exaggerating, as I felt fine when I left the parking lot. Thirty minutes later, coming into my town, I was popping the painkillers like M&Ms, sweating like a pig.
And the stairs leading up to our second-floor apartment never felt so steep or numerous. Each step was a new experience in pain and suffering. At last I reached our floor. I opened the door to our apartment to share the story with my wife...not that I expected sympathy after the rigors of two childbirths from her, no, not that...and was rewarded with the smiling cherub face of my preschooler. "Daddy!", she cried with delight, as she ran across the living room to give me the hug I had grown accustomed to. Right then, I realized that her head was just about that height, and as she impacted me, I raised my leg to block her. She thudded into my leg and sat down hard and began to cry, not understanding what she was about to do. I sat down hard and began to cry as well, as when I raised my leg to block her from the pain zone I squashed the twins, you may say, and the raw and burning agony from that brought tears anew to me, and tears of laughter to my wife over the spectacle that unfolded before her.
In short order, she had the little one comforted and I lay on the bed, a Ziploc bag filled with ice and wrapped in a washcloth on either side of my nuts. And there I remained, for a few hours. The post-operative notes said it was fine to shower in 48 hours, so on Sunday afternoon I showered and took stock of the situation. By then I felt fine other than the occasional twinge, but my testicles looked like I had gone a few rounds with FBI interrogation electrodes; the entry points were red but healing, but my nuts were slightly bruised. By Monday, I was good to go, and returned to work, where I regaled my (male) coworkers with the tale of woe.
As the wife was pregnant in her first trimester with the third child, there was ample time to "cleanse the pipes", as it were...it is recommended that for six weeks after a vasectomy, you have frequent ejaculations to ensure any remaining sperm in the portion of the vas deferens that connects to the prostate is removed...so we were able to enjoy the benefits of the Big V without any risk of pregnancy.
That was October of 1991. No nut pain ever since, no more children, no more fear of untimed pregnancies, no need for condoms, no need to "pull out" (let's face it, guys, the pull-out method isn't much fun, is it?); all juice, no seed! There is no substantial difference in either the amount or appearance of your ejaculation in the before-and-after samples.
So if you KNOW you don't want children (and your wife feels the same way, if you're married), then by all means go and have it done. The benefits far outweigh the potential drawbacks. I have never met anyone who had significant, lasting complications of having a vasectomy. Heard many an old wives' tale, but never for real.
Hope this helps.
Mr Light, you may despise children and that's your right; I'd have been aggravated taking care of kids not my own for that long, but please make absolutely sure that's what your fiancee really wants, permanently, and that she is not going to change her mind or is merely echoing your response, hoping she'll change your mind after marriage. If she decides on children a few years from now, a vasectomy is a hard operation to reverse, and while many insurance companies will cover a vasectomy, few companies will pay to reverse one.
Regarding children, we had three but did not want four, and the third appeared a little sooner than we had originally planned, but that is the nature of life. Raising children is the greatest of challenges...but also the greatest of rewards. But every person should know their limitations, and it's not for everyone. If you know for sure that it's not for you, do it. If there is the slightest shred of doubt, hold off. It can always be done later, but may not easily or cheaply be undone.
Regarding children, we had three but did not want four, and the third appeared a little sooner than we had originally planned, but that is the nature of life. Raising children is the greatest of challenges...but also the greatest of rewards. But every person should know their limitations, and it's not for everyone. If you know for sure that it's not for you, do it. If there is the slightest shred of doubt, hold off. It can always be done later, but may not easily or cheaply be undone.
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