THOUGHTFUL RAMBLING No. 7
"Making The Cut At The Masters"
This blog contains adult languge, violent content and partial nudity. Reader discretion is advised.
This has always been one of my favorite weekends of the year. The grass is green. The dogwoods and azaleas are in bloom. And the greatest golfers in the world are at Augusta National for the Masters golf tournament. For golfers, and for that matter, golf fans, there is no place more hallowed, or with a greater sense of history.
Jack's back-nine charge for a sixth Green Jacket in '86. Ben Crenshaw winning for Harvey Pennick in '95 and collapsing in tears on 18. Tiger's arrival in '97 with a record-setting 18-under 12-stroke victory. Me in my chair or camped on the sofa for every delicious swing with only a run to the fridge or a practice swing in the middle of the den to interrupt what is otherwise, the perfect weekend. It's the very essence of tradition.
But sometimes, even tradition has to take a back seat to responsibility. For two of the last three years, I have missed my weekend appointment with Augusta National and destiny. I can't remember exactly what I was called to do. I think one year involved shooting pictures in the bluebonnets. Whatever it was, I'm sure it was noble and I'm sure it was important. But this is the Masters. My absence clearly required a plan of action.
About 18 months ago, I was having a discussion with two of my buddies and they were hazing me about when I was going to join the Vasectomy club. They had gotten it done and wondered when, and if, I was going to man up and get it done. Six months later, as I was catching the Masters late night highlights show on CBS, they flashed to a picture of one of the Augusta greenskeepers kneeling beside the 18th green cutting the froghair with scissors. I had an epiphany.
If I got my Vasectomy done on Friday morning of Masters weekend, I would be required by doctor-mandated instruction to lay back and relax for three full days. Nothing but me, 20 hours of tee-to-green coverage and rotating bags of frozen peas to keep the swelling down. Damn it Jim, it just might work.
So two weeks ago, I stopped by the Urologist's office for my pre-surgical visit to meet the doctor, get my instructions and have any of my questions answered. First, I met with the doctor's assistant who basically told me what I needed to do before the surgery, what the surgery entailed and what was required for recovery. Nice guy. Even threw a prostate exam in for grins. I didn't sing "Moon River." But I thought about it.
Next, I got to meet the doc. Nice guy. Kind of a mix between Jerry Garcia and Jerry Seinfeld. He came in, shook my hand and proceeded to tell me he'd done about 8,000 Vasectomies so he pretty much had it down by now. I would hope so. He said the most important thing to remember was that I wasn't sterile until he told me I was. He said that would require two negative samples over the next few months. He said getting to that point would require flushing the pipes 25-30 times. "The record is a week," he said, "But that guy was single." Funny.
I started questioning the merits of a Urologist with a sense of humor. What if during the surgery he gets the hankering to make a balloon animal or something? He tells me not to worry. He says the numbing shot hurts less than a bee sting and that the shaving will be the worst part. How prophetic that would be.
I'll admit, I'm not exactly a veteran when it comes to shaving the nether regions. But seeing as it was a requirement, I hunkered down to do the best job I could. Now for any of my brethren who come after me, I'm happy to pass on two important realizations. First, if you're forced to give the boys a trim, don't use a razor with a flexible head. It just doesn't work. It's like trying to clean a bowling ball with a vaccum cleaner. Second, when choosing your shaving cream, check the label for ingredients. I chose Edge Advanced Gel for Sensitive Skin with Aloe. Sensitive skin? Aloe for cuts? Perfect. No. Not so much.
According to the ingredients list, Edge Advance Gel is a mixture of Water, Palmitic Acid, Triethanolamine, Stearic Acid, Isopentane, Sunflower Seed Oil Glyceride, Sorbitol, Aloe Barbadensis, Leaf Juice Powder, Fragrance, PVP, Isobutane, Peg 90M and Blue #1. Now, I'm no chemist, but there is definitely a heating element somewhere in this gel. Personally, I see two acids and something called Isobutane which certainly sounds flammable to me. All I know, is that when applied, it'll wake you up in the morning, boy.
Unfortunately, I didn't realize this until after I discovered how inept the flexible razor was for this type of mission. Normally, I use an electric razor, but for a lot of reasons that would have done me no good in the shower. Instead, I found myself doing a naked slip and slide through the bathroom, deep breathing through the burning in the southern hemisphere, checking every drawer for an old, Lady Bic single blade razor to close the deal. Thankfully, I managed to find one and not a moment too soon. 8,000 vasectomies. The shaving will be the worst part. Guy knew what he was talking about.
As foretold by my friends and doctor, the actual surgery Friday was a non-event. From beginning to end, it was quite easy and virtually painless. My doctor was terrific and the picture of efficiency. Not something I'd want to do every Friday, but nowhere close to being as bad as you make it in your head. In retrospect, I imagine the point of the humor was to lessen that tension as much as possible.
"So, what are your plans for the next three days," the doctor asked as he was prepping me for the whopping 8-minute procedure. "Actually, I decided to do this about a year ago so I could lay around and watch the Masters all weekend," I said. "Really?" He answered. "My sons are at Augusta today for the tournament. They invited me to go, but I'm not much of a golf fan." Oh, the irony.
As I finish writing this, Tiger and company are rounding Amen Corner with a lot of golf left to play. And with me, a lot of golf left to watch. I'll admit, I'm bummed that another year of the Masters is almost over. But after 60 or so hours of ice packs and frozen peas, I'm also happy to be on the mend. It was a crazy plan. But all in all, it's been a good one.
In a few weeks, it'll be time to start thinking about what I should do for next year's Masters. As of today, I haven't given it a whole lot of thought.
I wonder if my doctor does Liposuction?
"Making The Cut At The Masters"
This blog contains adult languge, violent content and partial nudity. Reader discretion is advised.
This has always been one of my favorite weekends of the year. The grass is green. The dogwoods and azaleas are in bloom. And the greatest golfers in the world are at Augusta National for the Masters golf tournament. For golfers, and for that matter, golf fans, there is no place more hallowed, or with a greater sense of history.
Jack's back-nine charge for a sixth Green Jacket in '86. Ben Crenshaw winning for Harvey Pennick in '95 and collapsing in tears on 18. Tiger's arrival in '97 with a record-setting 18-under 12-stroke victory. Me in my chair or camped on the sofa for every delicious swing with only a run to the fridge or a practice swing in the middle of the den to interrupt what is otherwise, the perfect weekend. It's the very essence of tradition.
But sometimes, even tradition has to take a back seat to responsibility. For two of the last three years, I have missed my weekend appointment with Augusta National and destiny. I can't remember exactly what I was called to do. I think one year involved shooting pictures in the bluebonnets. Whatever it was, I'm sure it was noble and I'm sure it was important. But this is the Masters. My absence clearly required a plan of action.
About 18 months ago, I was having a discussion with two of my buddies and they were hazing me about when I was going to join the Vasectomy club. They had gotten it done and wondered when, and if, I was going to man up and get it done. Six months later, as I was catching the Masters late night highlights show on CBS, they flashed to a picture of one of the Augusta greenskeepers kneeling beside the 18th green cutting the froghair with scissors. I had an epiphany.
If I got my Vasectomy done on Friday morning of Masters weekend, I would be required by doctor-mandated instruction to lay back and relax for three full days. Nothing but me, 20 hours of tee-to-green coverage and rotating bags of frozen peas to keep the swelling down. Damn it Jim, it just might work.
So two weeks ago, I stopped by the Urologist's office for my pre-surgical visit to meet the doctor, get my instructions and have any of my questions answered. First, I met with the doctor's assistant who basically told me what I needed to do before the surgery, what the surgery entailed and what was required for recovery. Nice guy. Even threw a prostate exam in for grins. I didn't sing "Moon River." But I thought about it.
Next, I got to meet the doc. Nice guy. Kind of a mix between Jerry Garcia and Jerry Seinfeld. He came in, shook my hand and proceeded to tell me he'd done about 8,000 Vasectomies so he pretty much had it down by now. I would hope so. He said the most important thing to remember was that I wasn't sterile until he told me I was. He said that would require two negative samples over the next few months. He said getting to that point would require flushing the pipes 25-30 times. "The record is a week," he said, "But that guy was single." Funny.
I started questioning the merits of a Urologist with a sense of humor. What if during the surgery he gets the hankering to make a balloon animal or something? He tells me not to worry. He says the numbing shot hurts less than a bee sting and that the shaving will be the worst part. How prophetic that would be.
I'll admit, I'm not exactly a veteran when it comes to shaving the nether regions. But seeing as it was a requirement, I hunkered down to do the best job I could. Now for any of my brethren who come after me, I'm happy to pass on two important realizations. First, if you're forced to give the boys a trim, don't use a razor with a flexible head. It just doesn't work. It's like trying to clean a bowling ball with a vaccum cleaner. Second, when choosing your shaving cream, check the label for ingredients. I chose Edge Advanced Gel for Sensitive Skin with Aloe. Sensitive skin? Aloe for cuts? Perfect. No. Not so much.
According to the ingredients list, Edge Advance Gel is a mixture of Water, Palmitic Acid, Triethanolamine, Stearic Acid, Isopentane, Sunflower Seed Oil Glyceride, Sorbitol, Aloe Barbadensis, Leaf Juice Powder, Fragrance, PVP, Isobutane, Peg 90M and Blue #1. Now, I'm no chemist, but there is definitely a heating element somewhere in this gel. Personally, I see two acids and something called Isobutane which certainly sounds flammable to me. All I know, is that when applied, it'll wake you up in the morning, boy.
Unfortunately, I didn't realize this until after I discovered how inept the flexible razor was for this type of mission. Normally, I use an electric razor, but for a lot of reasons that would have done me no good in the shower. Instead, I found myself doing a naked slip and slide through the bathroom, deep breathing through the burning in the southern hemisphere, checking every drawer for an old, Lady Bic single blade razor to close the deal. Thankfully, I managed to find one and not a moment too soon. 8,000 vasectomies. The shaving will be the worst part. Guy knew what he was talking about.
As foretold by my friends and doctor, the actual surgery Friday was a non-event. From beginning to end, it was quite easy and virtually painless. My doctor was terrific and the picture of efficiency. Not something I'd want to do every Friday, but nowhere close to being as bad as you make it in your head. In retrospect, I imagine the point of the humor was to lessen that tension as much as possible.
"So, what are your plans for the next three days," the doctor asked as he was prepping me for the whopping 8-minute procedure. "Actually, I decided to do this about a year ago so I could lay around and watch the Masters all weekend," I said. "Really?" He answered. "My sons are at Augusta today for the tournament. They invited me to go, but I'm not much of a golf fan." Oh, the irony.
As I finish writing this, Tiger and company are rounding Amen Corner with a lot of golf left to play. And with me, a lot of golf left to watch. I'll admit, I'm bummed that another year of the Masters is almost over. But after 60 or so hours of ice packs and frozen peas, I'm also happy to be on the mend. It was a crazy plan. But all in all, it's been a good one.
In a few weeks, it'll be time to start thinking about what I should do for next year's Masters. As of today, I haven't given it a whole lot of thought.
I wonder if my doctor does Liposuction?
posted by Michael Tuggle at 7:57 PM
2 Comments:
I've found that if you go with "the Kojak" all the time, then you don't have to worry about the burning.
Too much information?
I live in Dalton area and wonder who the doctor you used is?
I'm trying to schedule an appointment and you seem pleased with your choice.
Thanks, please edit out my email when you reply.
dawgsong@gmail.com
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