I remember going for a vasectomy when I was 30. It was a GP out in the suburbs who came highly recommended. He was about 40ks from where I lived but he bulk-billed, so yeah. Anyway, I walked in there and was asked a couple of preliminary questions about why I wanted a vasectomy, and before I could say ‘Jack Slash’ I was walking back out of there bow-legged.
Now, the Doc did emphasize that once I got home I should stay off my feet and rest up for the day. However, after an hour or so of lying on the couch watching ‘Days of Our Lives’ and the dog sitting there licking his balls in front of me with an expression on his face that said, “I bet you wished you could do this” I decided to take a walk around to the local milk bar for some comforting chocolate.
This turned out to be a big mistake! As a result of not heeding what the ‘Dick Doctor’ had advised me, I ended up with a scrotum that looked like it had been used as a pinata at a Sadist’s Convention.