So it is time for the next battery of tests. The first one came today starting with bloodwork at the fertility clinic. They were running late, and so I sat for 20 minutes in the lobby. It’s not a very big lobby, so you can hear every word. And I mean every word.
Maybe I am juvenile, but when a man walked up to the front desk and asked loudly, “Where do I go to leave a sample?” I nearly laughed out loud. Luckily his back was to me. Just after that, the receptionist started explaining the process for a “home sample” involving some sort of a kit in great detail. Or, apparently the clinic’s “facility” is very nice.
Then a man walked out to where his partner was waiting. He was trying to look nonchalant, starting at the ceiling, but, well, it seemed pretty obvious he just visited the nice “facility.” I knew he had just dropped off his own sample and, again, I tried not to giggle.
Then comes this older guy with a big soft cooler with biohazard symbols on it. I have to assume that’s a cooler full of sperm, and he knows everyone that works there well. Again, maybe I am juvenile, but how funny of a job is that? Delivering sperm!
Here’s another thing…ever notice that everyone in the lobby seems to avoid eye contact? Or is that just in a smaller city where the danger is very real that you will know someone in the lobby?
I was pondering all of this in an attempt to avoid thinking about myself entirely too much. I really hate to admit it, but I am embarrassed to be there. Embarrassed because I am so jealous of all the women that have the support of a partner. It made me feel so alone. It also made me very aware that I am not entirely comfortable with getting pregnant on my own. Ok, not comfortable at all.
So finally I am called for the blood draw. And I have this thing with needles. Or my body does. See, it likes to send me off to never never land when they enter my body. No different today, except I nearly punch the poor man drawing my blood as I faint. Luckily he had fast reflexes.