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Matt

Matt Dinniman


Last Updated: 11/22/2009

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Gender: Male
Status: Married
Age: 36
Sign: Capricorn

City: TUCSON
State: ARIZONA
Country: US
Signup Date: 5/19/2005
Sunday, April 09, 2006 

Category: Writing and Poetry
11:29 You arrive for your appointment just in time. The parking lot at St. Mary's hospital is completely full, and you and your wife have to park way out on the side. Then you get lost inside the hospital, and the one elevator you find goes to every floor except the second one, where your appointment is. Though it is of no matter. You're there on time.

11:35 Having paid your co-pay of forty dollars, you're immediately led into a small room in the back of the office. "Take off your pants," the nurse tells you. She looks like a nurse you'd find in a urology clinic. Someone designed to remind you that you want to be sterile. You're given a paper towel thing to cover yourself, and she leaves without drawing the curtain. Across the hall you see an elderly Mexican man wearing no pants, and he has tears crawling down his cheeks in slow motion. You don't know why he's crying, but you get the impression whatever it is, it's terrible. You decide after a moment you don't want to know why, and you draw the curtain.

11:38 "You did a good job shaving," the Doctor says, causing you to laugh. You remember the night before, awkwardly shaving down there, twisting yourself like a naked pretzel trying to get the right spot, regretting that you didn't take up your wife's offer to do it for you.

11:39 You are on your back on the table, and the doctor suggests you keep your hands behind your head. There are no nurses. There is nothing on the ceiling except white tiles. He doesn't ask you if you're sure. With a fluid motion, he grabs your penis in a gloved hand, pushes it up against your stomach, and throws a long strip of tape across your belly, pinning it there.

11:40 "This will be cold," he says, producing a large cup filled with magenta iodine. He swabs it liberally all over you, making chit chat while he does it. He asks you about your job. You answer, but you're focusing on the plain ceiling, and you don't remember what you say. It is cold, colder than you expected.

11:41 "This is a bee sting. A prick followed by a burn. Don't kick me." And just like that, a needle that you haven't even seen is slid into your scrotum. It stings. "Here's the burn." And it burns. You've been stung by bees before, but you've never been stung in the balls, and it's just as bad as you imagined it would be. And you have a good imagination. You realize he probably has been kicked in the head before. You feel vaguely proud you didn't.

11:42 He turns and begins to unwrap a series of instruments. "You'll probably feel numb right away." He's right. You do feel numb.

11:43 He turns toward you, and he holds a scalpel. As he reaches down, you suddenly decide you're not numb at all. But he cuts, almost casually, and he puts the scalpel away. You didn't feel a thing. You decide you don't want to look down any more, and you stare at the plain, white ceiling tiles. You hear a clip, and you quickly look down. He has a pair of surgical scissors, and he's pulling something out of you. He snips. He picks up what looks like a soldering iron before you look away again, and you can smell burned hair and flesh. Your stomach lurches, and you promise not to look again.

11:45 "This may burn." He's giving you another shot, but you don't feel anything. He continues to click, snip, and burn. He talks to you casually, happily. He remembers you wore Family Guy boxers during the initial visit, and he mentions them. It's his favorite show, and for some reason, that terrifies you.

11:46 Click, snip, burn.

11:47 "You'll feel pressure." You venture a look, and you see a fold of your skin stretched taut as he pulls it up. You realize he's sewing you up. It's over. "These stitches dissolve on their own," he says. "You have them on the inside and on the outside."

11:48 He asks you if you remembered to bring a jock strap. You did, but your wife has it, and she's waiting outside. He sticks his head out the door, which you suddenly realize was open the entire time, and asks a nurse to go get her.

11:49 Your wife comes into the room, and she stops short. Her eyes immediately shoot toward your crotch, and all the blood drains from her face. She opens her mouth, but she doesn't say anything.

"It's the iodine," the doctor says. "It's not blood."

You look down, and you're sitting in a puddle of iodine. There's lots of it, and it looks like a miasma of piss and blood. It's a scene from Hellraiser. You begin to laugh.

"Oh my god," she says. "I thought I was going to throw up."

And then he slowly pulls the tape off holding your penis up. You realize the doctor's comment about shaving well may have been sarcastic. It is almost as painful as the bee sting. He covers you with gauze and slides your jock strap on. The curtain is open, and people walk by.

The old Mexican man is still there in the next room, but his pants are now on, and he's stopped crying. But you see his eyes, and it's still there. For a moment you inexplicably question your decision, but that moment is fleeting.

The doctor shakes your hand, and he's gone.

11:51 Your vasectomy is done. You're given instructions from the nurse (no sex for a week, spend the weekend resting, no soap, no bath, no other things) and a bag that contains two cups. After twenty ejaculations, you fill the first one up with your twenty-first. Take it to a lab. Repeat the next week. Gotta make sure the operation took.

11:53 You're out of the office, looking at your watch, realizing the whole thing took barely twenty minutes. You don't feel a thing down there, but you know you will once the bee sting wears off. It's hard to walk. It's not nearly as bad as you dreaded.

But still, you feel different.