Vasectomy of Doom: Update

My Chemical Romance had a vasectomy two weeks ago. Just yesterday I found a ziploc bag of water on his nightstand. It had once held ice for his scrotum. He left it sitting on his nightstand for fourteen days. (And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I married My Chemical Romance. He will happily leave a wet ziploc on his nightstand for two weeks. He has no right to complain if I don’t clean the bathroom!)

The vasectomy didn’t go well. Apparently the doc didn’t give him enough lidocaine, so he could feel when the doctor was cutting lefty. The stitches were supposed to dissolve over a few weeks, but the first few came out three days after his surgery.

But it’s not all the doc’s fault. He didn’t follow the doctor’s advice to take it easy. I warned him that the anesthesia and painkillers would make him feel fine — but he still had to rest, no matter how fine he felt. He didn’t listen to me! Plus My Chemical Romance loves to do “stuff around the house.” I think he confused “recovery time” with “time to do as much stuff as possible.”

In the end, he got a postop infection. It’s not unheard of — although it’s rare — and now he’s taking antibiotics and anti-inflammatory medicine. And painkillers.

But as long as the vasectomy is actually doing its job, he’s happy.

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