"This Is How It Is"
The earth doesn’t ask too many questions. It doesn’t sit around pondering its purpose, the reason for its existence, the meaning of its creation, or the legacy that it leaves behind. On that luminous April day in 2014, I did. All of those questions; everything came crashing down on me like the torrent of mess and tears that I desperately wanted to be. The 2006 Ford Freestar had 7 seats, but when I left the car that day there were only 5 of us in it; Nancy, Daniel, Elliott, Gideon, and Lucetta. The question was, who were those last two seats meant for?
The yellowness, the hot sunny day, the bright bees buzzing and sweet springtime honeysuckle blossoms growing bedside as my feet turned away from the vehicle. The door is shutting now, a wink, then a nod, and a silent full force step onto the concrete. The gravity of what was coming shattered me. Hard ringing in my ears, and then the realization of becoming sterile washed over me. To be condemned forever, at least in this life to the lack of abundant, fruitful, bountiful, potential. My meaning as a man, about to possibly be gone forever. Chirping birds, smiling people; what the hell. “Why is everyone in this god-damned hospital so happy? Don’t they know about this place? This is where they are about to try and take away my nuts!”
“I am not ready”, start quote…
“I can’t deal with this”, thought Danny…
“I haven’t thought this out, what the hell am I thinking”…
“Gasp, cough once please, cough again”, end quote…
Timeline
1) October 1992 - Sonogram, 12 years old, twisted testicle, corrected.
2) June 1995 – Physical, freshman football, pre-checkup, coughed once, then twice, clean bill of health.
3) March 2014 – Doctor visit, vasectomy pre-consultation.
I’m inside the sliding doors, the whistling air blower hitting my face as it knocks back the flies. Feet move awkwardly onto the granite floor way. Dark, black, crystalline earth, now turned to a musty, waxy, milky, shine. From eternal provenance, it has been metamorphosed into its new barren reality too. It was stolen, just like my manhood was about to be…altered, still of use, functionality partial; not as originally intended by the great creator.
The hospital air rolls into my clean shaven face, nostrils wide now, breathing rapid, heading to the steps now, coffee stand next to me. Walking with head down I can see the Vegas carpet patterns on the hallway floor as if to say, “it’s your lucky day”; winner winner chicken dinner. That acrid tang looms heavy in my mouth. Here is a warning and recommendation to all:
DO NOT DRINK TOO MUCH COFFEE BEFORE AN OPERATION ON ONE’S NUTS!!!
Fear equals walking into this place. I enter the room now. She is shaving me, the doctor’s glove snaps loudly against his hand as he asks how I am doing, and then, “Do you mind if some student doctors look in on this procedure?” THE FUCK I DO MIND!!! But, my lips open and my voice crackles, and the words that come out are, “okay”.
To be honest, all Doctor People need to know that under such conditions we are not in a proper mental state to makes such executive decisions! Three twenty-something female nurses cruise into the room to watch the hack job. White room, white gloves, white robes, white skin, all antiseptic, all soap and burning flesh. Clamps, singed hair and flesh, cauterized; no more feeling, it’s all numb now. No more children anymore…no more proliferation…no more species propagation. I have become one of the animals on the farm; a culled ewe, the neutered ram. Sadness succeeds, and I am hit hard by it, as they send me limping away through the backdoor.
“Did the doctor just give me a high five??? What the hell…”
Now I see the emergency exit sign; red, clear, lite up like Christmas. The light is flashing, but all I hear is the ringing in my ears, the back passageway leads me slowly back to the place I began. Now I smell barf, nauseating sweats begin, now chills. Am I passing out, or am just I checking in to this new reality? Was I ever here to begin with?
The van pulls up again, and now the pain begins to fade away. As I enter, I don’t see the third row seat anymore. My wife must have put them down while I was away. Exhausted, I fall back into the bucket seat and look over to her sweet face. In the rear view mirror I see my sleeping children with blankets in hand, and at that moment I feel a single tear slowly roll down my heart; I now know that these are the last of my creations. These sweet beings are my final breaths into cosmic infinitude; where we miraculously all come from and mysteriously go back to. At the same time, I am somehow happy; I have completed the primordial task. Sadness begins to fade, the pain softens, and eventually the shivers of a new beginning fall down my back. After all, I know that I chose this fate, and in the end, I guess we really do reap what we sow.
