Colonel Ray Springfield, a friend and golfing buddy, told me a personal tale. He and his Wife had their fourth child. She said “enough”. Ray agreed to a vasectomy. A career Marine, he not only knew where this surgery was done, but played golf with one of the surgeons. The day was rainy and Ray was about the eighth potential patient to sit down in the waiting room. About three or four more joined the “first come, first served” (no pun intended) before the nurse appeared at the operation room door and asked “…Okay, who’s first”? Stone silence. No one moved. Ray volunteered.

Upon entry Ray saw his friend was the surgeon on call.  Ray said there were a lot of scared faces out in the waiting room.  Couldn’t resist!  And his Doctor friend was eager to go along.  Ray gave it a minute,  then screamed at the top of his lungs.  Then he cried, begged “STOP, STOP, STOP!!!”  Then THUD! Like someone hitting the floor.

He and the Doctor friend sneaked a peek into waiting room.

Ray said two things were obvious:   “…first, the rain had stopped and sun shone through the windows, and there wasn’t anyone in  the waiting room.”

The Doctor concluded,  “…what the hell, Ray, we can go play golf!”