As a teenager and college student , I was desperate not to get pregnant. I had seen enough made for TV specials and cousins derailed by failed contraception. Then, when I was in medical school and residency, I wanted to have children, but not with him. Or him. Or that other guy. I dated guys for months and years, certain that they were not the one, but enjoying myself too much to move on.
After spending decades trying not to get pregnant with the wrong man, I met someone perfect. He was kind, funny, shyly charming, clever about all the things I ignored (how engines work), and honest. And, divorced. Without kids. Because his ex-wife had found the perfect way not to get pregnant with her wrong man–a vasectomy.
“Don’t worry,” said my sisters, “they can reverse those, there are billboards up and down I35 advertising it. Want the number?” We found the surgeon. His advice, “we can fix his problem, you’re the problem.” At 36, I was old in his eyes.
It turns out that the success of a vasovasectomy (the medical term for a vasectomy reversal) is determined by the years passed since the vasectomy and the age of the woman. It’s a linear relationship. I fall in the middle of the quoted points on that line. My algebraic contortions could not figure out where on that line I would fall, so I graphed it. Please make note of this. This is evidence A of my going off the fertility deep end. I couldn’t find graph paper in my office, couldn’t download graph paper, and couldn’t figure out any of the 5 graphing softwares on my computer, so I hand made graph paper. I made graph paper by scratch in the middle of a busy workday, in order to determine the slope of fertility for vasovasectomy vs. age of the woman. I even labeled the axises. 53%, in case you were wondering. Very glass empty, glass full, eh?
Now, 8 weeks out from the reversal, I need to write about all the funny, quirky, sad, stomach dropping and boring events so that I can pretend that, after decades of being in absolute control, I am not completely terrified.