Nearly five years after Atticus was born, and about four and a half years after telling me our marriage wouldn’t survive another pregnancy and postpartum tragedy, Daniel decided he was finally ready for the big chop.
Since his health insurance is crap and doesn’t cover any specialists in our state (let alone cover an elective vasectomy), he decided to find a urologist near the house and just pay cash. Considering that the process would take four separate visits, he figured, if nothing else, he’d save some money on the gas.
He set up a consultation with a urologist and mentally prepared for the worst. I got a phone call at work, and I stepped out of the office to get the details.
“So the doctor asked what sort of work I do. I told him social work and remodeling on the side. He asked if I’d be interested in a trade–installing an attic fan in exchange for a vasectomy.”
“Ohmygod–was he touching your junk when he said that?!”
“No, this was after he touched it.”
“Wait, so were your pants down? Or was the exam officially over?”
“My pants were up, and he just mentioned it. I said I’d do it.”
“So you’re getting a vasectomy in exchange for labor.”
“Yeah. It should only take me a couple hours to install the fan.”
“How much does a vasectomy cost?”
“Cash? About $900.”
“We need to find a dentist who needs a bathroom remodel. Why don’t all doctors do this?! Maybe there is some sort of underground doctor network we can tap into.”
So Daniel went and installed a fan for the urologist. They had some great conversation about life and dreams. He came home feeling his work was truly valued for once in his life. It’d be hard to argue with a $450 per hour wage, though. I can’t imagine how the urologist feels making that and more in about 15 minutes.
I drove Daniel home after his vasectomy.
“He said the fan works great.”
“Wait. Did he say that while he was touching your junk?! This is the funniest story of my year.”
I brought him flowers and a cake. Because having a vasectomy is hard work.