Syringes, Collections and an Escape From the Masterbatorium

Wednesday was a BIG day for me and Mr G: it was the day I had all my eggs collected and Mr G got a syringe in the testicles. I think he was more nervous. Actually I was more nervous about the existence of the Secret Sperm than I was about the egg collection. I needn't have worried! I did make sure I had bright and sparkly pubes, for public viewing purposes and Mr G got to shave his testicles. I have to wonder if pubic clipperedness is something the doctor folk notice of, or if they've seen one bush, they've seen them all. I wonder if they make assumptions amongst themselves both pre and post peeking and whether they're ever surprised by the efforts some people go to.

We began the day by being up and organised very early so that I could be at the acupuncture clinic by 8am. I quite like the acupuncture man, although he makes me quite nervous. He's a Chinese professor. He smiles a lot and nods his head a lot and he is very difficult to understand. It's difficult sometimes not to just say "um yes" to everything he says, even though you have a 50% chance of it being the right answer. He tends to smile and nod back. He may be thinking to himself "ah, crazy bitch you no understand me" but I'm thinking maybe he also just hopes we understand each other.

If any acupuncture works, I have faith in this man. The reason is, is that I have seen him a number of times over the years and he manages to ease pain where everyone else has failed. I have a bad neck due to a car crash years ago where a taxi driver failed to stop at a red light, despite the fact he had to get through me and another car on his way through. My acupuncture man helped enormously. He has also been able to give me pain relief throughout the IVF stages, notably he seems to have removed the permanent knife up my unspeakables. I wish I'd been to see him last year when the pain was insufferable. Apparently the visit before egg collection was to ready my eggs for lifting. I had needles in my head, ears, tummy, elbows, shins and toes. Weird.

Mr G, having attended to child delivery services (The Rabbit to her Gran for a school trip), then collected me from Acupuncture and we arrived at the Clinic, nervously. I was nil by mouth. The fun and games weren't too bad. I got to take a pre-med tablet (medazelam) to help relax me. I've never trusted these things. It's the one that Bill Cosby on the Cosby Show took before surgery once and it would seem he lost his inhibitions. I have a friend who told all the operating theatre staff once that she couldn't believe they wore crocs, that they were terrible and disgusting people and they should be ashamed. Thankfully I kept my inhibitions intact. I then got a luer in my arm and we went through to the theatre. I was injected with something that made me quite woozy which was to help with pain relief. I also had some local anaesthetic. The doctor didn't mention my pubes.

The collection itself wasn't pleasant but it wasn't terrible. It was uncomfortable and there was some pain but overall it was better than I'd expected. Excitingly, they collected 10 eggs. It's always a subjective matter. They collect the eggs on the basis of follicles, but not all follicles contain eggs. 10 seemed like a good number. I was wheeled off into recovery for a bit of a snooze, although I came around pretty quickly and was able to read my book. While Mr G went off for his testes to be manhandled I had a nice cup of tea and a muffin. Apparently the specialist and the nurse both copped a feel and admired Mr G's manhood. They both expressed admiration of his appendages although he didn't let them take photos. His procedure was quick, they gave him local anaesthetic and syringed out some Secret Sperm. They then went back for some more from the same testicle. They thankfully didn't need to interfere with his other testicle.

He's lucky really. Most men have to pay not one but many visits to the Clinic Masterbatorium. It's the room where they get sent by women in nursing uniforms, also known as nurses, to jerk off on demand in a cup. Several samples are normally needed on an infertility and ivf journey. The nurses (ok, so probably one) wait outside (or nearby). Apparently 'materials' are provided. The nurses are not allowed to enter to assist but pornographic material of every kind is available to cater for a wide range of tastes. My brother in law described the bredth of material as fascinating, although he wished he'd snooped through the gay porn after he'd filled his cup, as the images meant he was unable to get it on with himself for quite some time.

It's a funny thing masterbation. I think I've realised the real reason it is frowned upon by the Catholic Church: not because it is unhealthy or in reality sinful, but because it gives priests an opportunity to talk dirty. I suspect this is the real reason why confession is taken in adjoining cubicles, and why the priest wears a dress. I can only imagine them requesting the details from innocent wee boys and worse, the priests taking confession from one another. "Go on, my son, tell me what you did next?" "Oh really, show me". But I digress in a matter not meant to cause offence to Catholics so I apologise. But I do wonder.

After a wee while, Mr G had a cup of coffee and a muffin, we went home. It was quite an uncomfortable day for me but Mr G felt much better that it was all over. He was relieved to get out of there with a working penis and get the scary part for him over and done with. He recovered. I took a good few days! My swollen abdomen stayed very uncomfortable until Saturday and it seemed to prop itself up under my ribcage. A day on codeine caused havoc with my bowels and I've wished ever since I wasn't allergic to kiwifruit. I suspect hormones also have something to do with my constipating problem.

Apart from feeling not so good, the news the following day was encouraging. From the ten eggs collected, 9 were able to be fertilised. Because we were using Secret Sperm and not Masterbatorium Mustered Ejaculates, each sperm needed to be injected into each egg. Apparently for the natural fertilisation to occur, 50,000 sperm are required to party in the petrie dish. Secret Sperm are a far more select group. By Saturday morning, 8 fertilised eggs had survived. It's amazing how maternal I suddenly felt. Basically I was the new Octomum, it's just that my babies were chilling in a petrie dish. Due to the successful fertilisation (a romantic joining of eggs and secret sperm) I was told Monday would be the day of implantation. Let the impregnantion begin!