Smiling Mom

In case you mis­sed the first part of this story, click on over to here and read up.  I’ll wait!

Ready?  OK.  So where should I begin?

I’ll start with the night before the drea­ded sur­gery.  Hubby deci­ded that he would go through with his pro­ce­dure the follo­wing mor­ning. (yeay!) As much as I tried to con­vince him that he really should wait a bit lon­ger to make sure he was cer­tain, he dec­li­ned.  The pro­ce­dure would hap­pen. (yeay!)

Jokingly I said to Hubby that the nur­ses in the uro­logy cli­nic must have an ongoing wager on how many men will chic­ken out and not follow through with their vasec­tomy.…  I bet they really do, hmm, I’ll have to ask the nur­ses next time!

The next mor­ning we work up with an air of anti­ci­pa­tion.  Our friend, Amber, came over to our house with her chil­dren to watch BC and eClaire.  Bless her heart!

So off we went.

On the drive over to Kai­ser, Hubby tur­ned to me and said, “I took 800 mg of ibu­pro­fen before we left, you know, to ‘get ahead of the pain’.”

800 mg is a lot of ibu­pro­fen.  Like presc­rip­tion strength. It was presc­ri­bed to Hubby after his shoul­der sur­gery back in November.

During his shoul­der sur­gery ever­yone kept telling Hubby to ‘get ahead of the pain!’ ‘get ahead of the pain.’

Hubby didn’t.

His shoul­der hurt, a lot.

So this time he deci­ded he’d had enough with pain.

After con­si­de­ring where he was get­ting cut open, cut apart, and sin­ged, (ahhh!)  he’d do everything in his power to ‘get ahead of the pain!’.

I was impres­sed.  My hus­band?  Take medi­cine without being told to?  This was huge!

Smi­ling Mom: “NICE!  Good for you!”

After six months in the making, Hubby and I finally wal­ked into the uro­logy clinic.

Ready for the vasectomy.

Hubby was called back and his blood pres­sure was taken.

Then the nurse asked him a few questions.

Nurse: “So, did you take any aspi­rin in the last 10 days?” (thins your blood, bad juju when having surgery)

Hubby: “Oh no!!  not me.  I know about aspi­rin!  I didn’t take any.  I took ibu­pro­fen instead.”

Nurse: (stop­ping, loo­king up with shock on her face) “WHAT? Ibu­pro­fen?  You can’t take ibu­pro­fen before a sur­gery!!  It thins your blood too!  How much did you take?”

Hubby: “Um, 800 mg”

Nurse: “haha, well..ahem.. I’ll let the doc­tor know… ya, you pro­bably won’t be able to get the sur­gery now.”

Hubby:  “Oh sh*t.”

Once Dr. Cuts-A-Lot called us back to the room to talk, me inc­lu­ded, we knew the sur­gery was a no go.

Hubby heard phra­ses like, “Strongly sug­gest we post­pone the sur­gery” “Scro­tal sack is like a sponge”  “Might soak up blood and swell to twice the size” “Not in your best inte­rest” He decide, whole-heartedly, to post­pone the surgery.

And we laughed.

We couldn’t believe the comedy of our errors!  How could we be so dumb?

We knew about ibu­pro­fen, and forgot.

As Hubby and I wal­ked out of uro­logy, with sper­mies still swim­ming, I loo­ked at Hubby and said, “So, is this sign that God wants us to have another kid?  Let’s go home and work on #3?”

And I laughed.

Hubby infor­med me that I’m so fer­tile that I would most cer­tainly end up preg­nant with tri­plets if we shot for one more.

I have to agree with this.  God help me!

I just can’t see myself a parent to five kids.

Oy.

I’d go crazy, for reals!

Ulti­ma­tely we deci­ded to resche­dule the appoint­ment for early April, and attempt to actually see it through to completion.

I’m not sure why, but this vasec­tomy just wasn’t meant to be.  Hope­fully the next one will be!