The last time we spoke, cuppy had left me. Hopefully I would only see her one more time, and then our brief, but ultimately unsatisfying relationship would be at an end. This was the last test to check whether we could go down the route of IUI (http://www.womens-health.co.uk/iui.html) or down the pregnancy cul-de-sac that is IVF.
It all depends on my swimmers, how handsome they are (morphology) how fast they swim, and the amount that do swim. The main reason we wanted to go for IUI was also financial. You see, you get 5 goes under our NHS trust at IUI...and only one shot at IVF. All your eggs in one basket as it were. So you can imagine...this result was like X-Factor times a million, just without four twats judging you. Just one scientist, casting their astute eye over my jizz.
We did as we were told, as soon as the sample was given we made an appointment with the Doctors at Pinderfield Hospital, and we waited.
And waited...
Until, our appointment card arrived.
5 weeks away.
And on a school day...again! More time off work.
So it came to the day of the appointment, I had arranged for 2 hours off from work thanks to a very understanding boss. And trotted off to the Hospital to meet the wife (lulu - you may remember her from previous postings). Our appointment was for 11am - I had to be back to the studios for around 12.15. Plenty of time.
Nope.
Thats only if the appointment is on time. Which it wasnt. It never is with these people. What is the point in booking a time 5 weeks in advance if your not going to keep it. I was getting very stressed, there was people in the waiting room with appt times of 10am....that still hadnt been seen at 1145!!! This is a shambles. I know we have one of the best health services in the world, and its free (for the most part). I have lived in other countries (Australia) where you have to pay for everything, so I understand what a godsend the NHS is. It really is.
But I was getting rather angry. That in turn wasnt making my wife happy, this is a stressful enough situation, without the added drama of late appts. It got to midday...and I had to leave. Not the best situation in the world....but what else could I do.
My wife eventually went into the appt at 1230. An hour and a half late.
Bastards.
My wife called me after to give me the news. And it wasnt good.
My swimmers were worse than we thought.....in fact first of all my wife told me they were almost completely useless. This was the info she gave me...
63,000,000 sperm of which 4,000 are any good.
WHATTHEFUCK???!??!?!?!?
My mind was reeling, only 4,000! The odds are not good. If this was a darts match, Phil 'The Power' Taylor would struggle hitting the bullseye. And Im crap at darts.
Thankfully the figures werent as bad as that - turns out the wife left a few zero's off. 4,000,000 are ok.
Phew. But still not good enough for IUI.
Its IVF or Bust.
So now guess what we're doing.....waiting. Waiting for a letter to come and get us into the Leeds Centre for Reproductive Medicine (where I last saw cuppy) and start the process proper.
We went along there last week for a 'new patients' night. Where a couple of doctors and nurses take you through the whole process.
It started strangely though, with the doctor showing us pictures of a womb, and how the reproductive system works.....for normal people.
Hey? Am I back in 2G1 at Winton Boys School? Yes I know where the penis goes, Oh I didnt realise you had to ejaculate in the vagina, I thought all over the..... You get my drift. Quickly though the talk was onto the more meaty stuff. And it was very interesting.
For example, there are two types of IVF - normal IVF and ICSI
The normal IVF, they take the sperm, the harvest a few eggs, and put them together in a dish and hope for the best. This is after pumping the woman full of hormones so she produces more eggs than needed. (At this point Im thinking of Aliens with Sigourney Weaver).
The other type (ICSI) is the one I think we're having. This is a bit brutal. The same preparation happens to the woman, but after my sperm are handed in, they pick the Micheal Phelps of the crew, snap off his tail so he cant go anywhere, and inject him directly into the egg. Boom.
It all sounds very complicated, and the chances are not fantastic. Around 40-50% success rate at our age. So there is light at the end of this tunnel.
One thing struck me about the night. There are lots of people in the same position as us. We are not alone. The room was packed with couples, some looking dejected, others hopeful, but all with the same wish. To be parents.
And thats when all this hits you. For all the messing around, late appts, relationships with plastic cups, masturbating in god awful places, visiting doctors, stress, blood tests, will it be IUI or IVF, money....it comes down to the fact, that you want to be a parent.
You want to have a Son or Daughter. You want a family. And if you keep that in mind, all the other crap pales into insignificance.
More soon I hope.
D
Monday 25 October 2010
Wednesday 22 September 2010
Cuppy strikes back!!
It's been a couple of weeks since my first post, so I thought I better keep everyone updated with the goings on in the fertility process.
Before I do I want to thank everyone for reading, and big thanks for all your comments, all of them are much appreciated. I especially love the feedback Im getting from people who have been through, or are thinking of, or going through the same process. If the blog helps in anyway, I'm really chuffed....I think it may have even inspired one person to take fertility testing. Good luck if you are... If your just reading it for a bit of a laugh, thats ok ...but remember, this is my junk we're talking about.
On to how everything's going......
In a word.....slow. As slow as my sperm.
When we last spoke, I told you that the next day I was off to the Jizz clinic to deposit a sample, I even put the appt time on the blog like a nice chap. I thought it would be good to keep you all informed to what was happening.
What I didnt expect was text messages on the way to the clinic with the general theme of this...
'I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING!'
'I'M THINKING ABOUT YOU...HOPE YOU'RE NOT THINKING ABOUT ME'
'GIVE CUPPY ONE FOR ME!'
All well and good, but it dawned on me as I drove like a maniac through Leeds to get to my appt....'Shit, I've got an audience for this....' I would like to thank everyone who sent a text, it was appreciated, I did laugh, and I won't name you, for fear of retribution.
So lets get back to the appt. I had booked off some time at work (thanks boss) and had a 930 slot. I made it through the Leeds traffic, and arrived ...a little puffed out at the clinic bang on 930. Good for me I thought, In/out and back to work after lightening the load somewhat.
If only it was that simple......it was'nt.
After waiting for 15 minutes, I asked the receptionist lady (who had exceptionally bad body odour, not something that would 'put you in the mood') how long before my appt.
'About 20 minutes'
'Can I use the phone to call my boss and tell him?' I asked holding my nose and trying not to breathe. (I mean really....can people not smell themselves? Her colleagues must have smelt it, or are they now immune?) Anyhoo I digress....
I called my boss, told him of the situation, he understood...and off I went back to waiting.
About 10.05 I was called in.
The nurse lady sat me down, told me how good looking I was......and started to undress in the office.She had a fantastic body, toned and tanned.... Music was playing in the background a sort of Wacka Wacka Boom Boom sound.
'How about it big boy? Can I take your temprature.....?'
SORRY - that is for the version I'm writing for Penthouse magazine. Damn copy and paste.
Speaking of paste - the nurse gave me .......wait for it......Cuppy! And told me that I needed to go to The Room, give my sample and then wait on the chairs outside her office.
On leaving her office, I saw a couple of sheepish looking gents in the same predicament as me. We gave each other a knowing glance, a quick 'Alright?' No one really wants a conversation here....masturbation humour doesnt go down that well. It would be frowned upon to sit next to them and say...
'So......sperm going backwards are they?'
Its just not the done thing.
...... and off to The Room.
Now from my last post you will know that I have experience of these rooms before, but I must say this one was much better than Dewsbury hospital. I would give it a 7/10.
The first thing that caught my eye was this though....
It lead me to think.....what would you panic about?
'Help....Come quick .....I can't get wood!!'
or
'Help.... I've got wood....... I've come quick!'
Casting my glance around the room, it seemed the same sort of setup as everywhere else.Bed and chair with paper on, Antiseptic lotion, toilet, paper towels, adult material cupboard, frosted window.
Wait
Go back one.
Yes, this room had some....fnarr fnarr....
Just the words conjoured up all sorts of images.....but on opening the cupboard. A few dog eared copies of Juggs or whatever was all they had. And yes.....some pages were stuck together. I shit you not.
So....being under a bit of time constraints, (I needed to get back to work!) I performed some 'White Water Wristing' gave my sample and sat outside the nurses office.
I was half expecting her to say 'Wow that was quick'...but alas no. She just gave me the bill.
Yes, The Bill. As this pounding of the pudding cost me 95 quid.
So now......we wait. Because kind reader, our next appt couldn't be booked in until....... 5 weeks later. Until then we'll keep trying, and hoping, and I will be trying not to think of cuppy. Until the next time.
But next time cuppy....make an effort, put on a nice bra and panties for christ sake.
Before I do I want to thank everyone for reading, and big thanks for all your comments, all of them are much appreciated. I especially love the feedback Im getting from people who have been through, or are thinking of, or going through the same process. If the blog helps in anyway, I'm really chuffed....I think it may have even inspired one person to take fertility testing. Good luck if you are... If your just reading it for a bit of a laugh, thats ok ...but remember, this is my junk we're talking about.
On to how everything's going......
In a word.....slow. As slow as my sperm.
When we last spoke, I told you that the next day I was off to the Jizz clinic to deposit a sample, I even put the appt time on the blog like a nice chap. I thought it would be good to keep you all informed to what was happening.
What I didnt expect was text messages on the way to the clinic with the general theme of this...
'I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING!'
'I'M THINKING ABOUT YOU...HOPE YOU'RE NOT THINKING ABOUT ME'
'GIVE CUPPY ONE FOR ME!'
All well and good, but it dawned on me as I drove like a maniac through Leeds to get to my appt....'Shit, I've got an audience for this....' I would like to thank everyone who sent a text, it was appreciated, I did laugh, and I won't name you, for fear of retribution.
So lets get back to the appt. I had booked off some time at work (thanks boss) and had a 930 slot. I made it through the Leeds traffic, and arrived ...a little puffed out at the clinic bang on 930. Good for me I thought, In/out and back to work after lightening the load somewhat.
If only it was that simple......it was'nt.
After waiting for 15 minutes, I asked the receptionist lady (who had exceptionally bad body odour, not something that would 'put you in the mood') how long before my appt.
'About 20 minutes'
'Can I use the phone to call my boss and tell him?' I asked holding my nose and trying not to breathe. (I mean really....can people not smell themselves? Her colleagues must have smelt it, or are they now immune?) Anyhoo I digress....
I called my boss, told him of the situation, he understood...and off I went back to waiting.
About 10.05 I was called in.
The nurse lady sat me down, told me how good looking I was......and started to undress in the office.She had a fantastic body, toned and tanned.... Music was playing in the background a sort of Wacka Wacka Boom Boom sound.
'How about it big boy? Can I take your temprature.....?'
SORRY - that is for the version I'm writing for Penthouse magazine. Damn copy and paste.
Speaking of paste - the nurse gave me .......wait for it......Cuppy! And told me that I needed to go to The Room, give my sample and then wait on the chairs outside her office.
On leaving her office, I saw a couple of sheepish looking gents in the same predicament as me. We gave each other a knowing glance, a quick 'Alright?' No one really wants a conversation here....masturbation humour doesnt go down that well. It would be frowned upon to sit next to them and say...
'So......sperm going backwards are they?'
Its just not the done thing.
...... and off to The Room.
Now from my last post you will know that I have experience of these rooms before, but I must say this one was much better than Dewsbury hospital. I would give it a 7/10.
The first thing that caught my eye was this though....
It lead me to think.....what would you panic about?
'Help....Come quick .....I can't get wood!!'
or
'Help.... I've got wood....... I've come quick!'
Casting my glance around the room, it seemed the same sort of setup as everywhere else.Bed and chair with paper on, Antiseptic lotion, toilet, paper towels, adult material cupboard, frosted window.
Wait
Go back one.
Yes, this room had some....fnarr fnarr....
Just the words conjoured up all sorts of images.....but on opening the cupboard. A few dog eared copies of Juggs or whatever was all they had. And yes.....some pages were stuck together. I shit you not.
So....being under a bit of time constraints, (I needed to get back to work!) I performed some 'White Water Wristing' gave my sample and sat outside the nurses office.
I was half expecting her to say 'Wow that was quick'...but alas no. She just gave me the bill.
Yes, The Bill. As this pounding of the pudding cost me 95 quid.
So now......we wait. Because kind reader, our next appt couldn't be booked in until....... 5 weeks later. Until then we'll keep trying, and hoping, and I will be trying not to think of cuppy. Until the next time.
But next time cuppy....make an effort, put on a nice bra and panties for christ sake.
Tuesday 7 September 2010
So, you've never jizzed in a cup?
You haven't lived until you've had an affair, with a plastic cup.
And for the past few months, that's exactly what I've been doing. To be honest, its quite a good relationship, if a little one sided. The cup, or Cuppy as I've grown to known it, doesn't answer back. Cuppy is quiet all the time to be honest, never making a sound of disapproval even when I want to watch football.
But alas, Cuppy is a bit of a bore.
It's a plastic cup.
Why have I been so attached to Cuppy?
Well, my wife and I, (from now on called Lulu....that is her nickname, she is not the diminutive Scottish singer of 'Shout' and other boppy 60's tunes).... have been trying for a baby, a little Darren or Lulu for quite a while now. Lets say its been....over 4 yrs of trying. Not that I'm complaining about the trying. But at some point you have to ask.....
'Hmmm no little sprog yet......could there be a problem with you honey?'
Both of you think this....and both of you hope its the other one who has the problem. Not that this makes any difference to the final outcome....you still cant conceive.
So we made an appointment with our GP, who was completely useless. He did however send us off for some initial tests. Lulu had to go for a scan at the hospital to check the 'oven' was correctly wired, and I was given a plastic cup.
And so the great love affair with 'Cuppy' was born. Oh how we laughed on that first date, we talked and talked for hours, about everything....we found we had so much in common.....Ahem.
Anyhoo, the first time I had to give a sample I was told to 'do the deed' at home and take the population paste into Dewsbury Hospital. This had to be done at a pre arranged time, as they need the sample quite quickly after you have...err...relieved yourself.
I have never knocked on out according to a timetable before. So that was a first, but all went well (I had been practising since my teens) and off I trotted to the hospital. I gave 'Cuppy' over to the Pathology dept at the allotted time, bid my farewells to my plastic lover and made a quick exit.
When I went to my GP for the results, a locum was in. A German woman who didn't really understand the sheet of paper with my sperm analysis on. So we tried to understand it together...well I read through it and understood that my motility was not great.
JARGON SPEAK!!!!!
For more information on Sperm Motility I hand you over to our friends at Wikipedia.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sperm_motility
But all in all, it wasn't too bad, nothing too worry about she said......Never trust a German Locum. My wife and I went back to our GP and......He said my wife had some problems with Cervical Ployps -JARGON SPEAK!!!!! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cervical_polyp .....His thoughts were to send my wife for an operation to remove them, and so would aid our attempt to get pregnant.
Easy.
Nope.
After this appt, we were referred to a fertility specialist, as they would be the ones to have the final say on Lulu going to hospital. We went over to Wakefield's Pinderfield Hospital and met with the nice lady Doctor, who began to look through our notes.
'Polyps are not the problem' was the first revelation we had. What the hell Dr Death had been looking at, or where he was taught beggars belief.
Then I heard the immortal words when she read the results of my semen analysis.
'Did you miss the cup?'
There is nothing that can prepare you for this. Of course I said no. Looked a little sheepish, and hoped for the best. My mind works in funny ways, and all I could think of was that scene from Max and Paddy with Peter Kay when Max says...
'You want to be careful, you only get a bucketful'
Could this be true? Has my bucket been filled?
She decided that I needed to go for another sample. But this time.......to give the sample at the Hospital.
Hello Cuppy.
Another appointment to crack one off was made with Dewsbury Hospital, with one added difference. This time I booked....The Room. I've heard about these places, but nothing can quite prepare you for it. I knew it wouldn't be some den of inequity, but I wasn't expecting such a grey and sexless place. I can perform the deed in most places, but I would need all my mental strength here. Let me describe it. The Room is no bigger than a third bedroom in a standard 3 bed house, it has a sink. It has a settee, covered in paper. It has a seat, covered in paper. It is right by one of the main entrances to the hospital.
Yes. A MAIN ENTRANCE.
All the way through you can hear the door banging as people sneak outside for a quick one. Cigarette, of course. Oh there is also a cabinet, much like Alan Partridge's draw in the Linton Travel Tavern, whats in there is a mystery...its locked. I know, I half hoped there would be a copy of Razzle from my youth. No.
But me being the utter professional, I soldiered through. Took the sample back to the nurse, said a final farewell to Cuppy and was on my way once more.
In the meantime Lulu had been for all sorts of invasive tests, blood test etc, and we went back to the fertility specialist for the diagnosis.
Lulu is perfect. All parts in working order. But alas, I am not so lucky. My motility is still slow, and I'm not producing enough sperm. Although they look good apparently see this link on Morphology. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Semen_analysis#Morphology
But, all in all, I'm in scientific terms, a bit of a jaffa.
We had two choices, go straight for IVF, which we get one shot (excuse the pun) on the NHS, or we could try IUI which we get 5 goes. But the Doctor wouldn't tell us which one to go for, she wanted to let the Leeds Centre for Reproductive medicine make the decision.
So guess what.
Me and Cuppy are seeing each other again tomorrow, for another clandestine meeting. This time in Leeds. I'm thinking of bringing out a book. 101 places to blow your beans. I think it's a sure fire winner.
So, good people reading this blog, I will be doing the one handed snake charming of the pant python around 9.20 on Wednesday 8th September 2010. Think of me won;t you, I guarantee I won't be thinking of you, unless your name is Lulu, or Kylie, or Jennifer Aniston. Maybe Angelina Jolie if I'm in a tight spot.
D.
And for the past few months, that's exactly what I've been doing. To be honest, its quite a good relationship, if a little one sided. The cup, or Cuppy as I've grown to known it, doesn't answer back. Cuppy is quiet all the time to be honest, never making a sound of disapproval even when I want to watch football.
But alas, Cuppy is a bit of a bore.
It's a plastic cup.
Why have I been so attached to Cuppy?
Well, my wife and I, (from now on called Lulu....that is her nickname, she is not the diminutive Scottish singer of 'Shout' and other boppy 60's tunes).... have been trying for a baby, a little Darren or Lulu for quite a while now. Lets say its been....over 4 yrs of trying. Not that I'm complaining about the trying. But at some point you have to ask.....
'Hmmm no little sprog yet......could there be a problem with you honey?'
Both of you think this....and both of you hope its the other one who has the problem. Not that this makes any difference to the final outcome....you still cant conceive.
So we made an appointment with our GP, who was completely useless. He did however send us off for some initial tests. Lulu had to go for a scan at the hospital to check the 'oven' was correctly wired, and I was given a plastic cup.
And so the great love affair with 'Cuppy' was born. Oh how we laughed on that first date, we talked and talked for hours, about everything....we found we had so much in common.....Ahem.
Anyhoo, the first time I had to give a sample I was told to 'do the deed' at home and take the population paste into Dewsbury Hospital. This had to be done at a pre arranged time, as they need the sample quite quickly after you have...err...relieved yourself.
I have never knocked on out according to a timetable before. So that was a first, but all went well (I had been practising since my teens) and off I trotted to the hospital. I gave 'Cuppy' over to the Pathology dept at the allotted time, bid my farewells to my plastic lover and made a quick exit.
When I went to my GP for the results, a locum was in. A German woman who didn't really understand the sheet of paper with my sperm analysis on. So we tried to understand it together...well I read through it and understood that my motility was not great.
JARGON SPEAK!!!!!
For more information on Sperm Motility I hand you over to our friends at Wikipedia.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sperm_motility
But all in all, it wasn't too bad, nothing too worry about she said......Never trust a German Locum. My wife and I went back to our GP and......He said my wife had some problems with Cervical Ployps -JARGON SPEAK!!!!! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cervical_polyp .....His thoughts were to send my wife for an operation to remove them, and so would aid our attempt to get pregnant.
Easy.
Nope.
After this appt, we were referred to a fertility specialist, as they would be the ones to have the final say on Lulu going to hospital. We went over to Wakefield's Pinderfield Hospital and met with the nice lady Doctor, who began to look through our notes.
'Polyps are not the problem' was the first revelation we had. What the hell Dr Death had been looking at, or where he was taught beggars belief.
Then I heard the immortal words when she read the results of my semen analysis.
'Did you miss the cup?'
There is nothing that can prepare you for this. Of course I said no. Looked a little sheepish, and hoped for the best. My mind works in funny ways, and all I could think of was that scene from Max and Paddy with Peter Kay when Max says...
'You want to be careful, you only get a bucketful'
Could this be true? Has my bucket been filled?
She decided that I needed to go for another sample. But this time.......to give the sample at the Hospital.
Hello Cuppy.
Another appointment to crack one off was made with Dewsbury Hospital, with one added difference. This time I booked....The Room. I've heard about these places, but nothing can quite prepare you for it. I knew it wouldn't be some den of inequity, but I wasn't expecting such a grey and sexless place. I can perform the deed in most places, but I would need all my mental strength here. Let me describe it. The Room is no bigger than a third bedroom in a standard 3 bed house, it has a sink. It has a settee, covered in paper. It has a seat, covered in paper. It is right by one of the main entrances to the hospital.
Yes. A MAIN ENTRANCE.
All the way through you can hear the door banging as people sneak outside for a quick one. Cigarette, of course. Oh there is also a cabinet, much like Alan Partridge's draw in the Linton Travel Tavern, whats in there is a mystery...its locked. I know, I half hoped there would be a copy of Razzle from my youth. No.
But me being the utter professional, I soldiered through. Took the sample back to the nurse, said a final farewell to Cuppy and was on my way once more.
In the meantime Lulu had been for all sorts of invasive tests, blood test etc, and we went back to the fertility specialist for the diagnosis.
Lulu is perfect. All parts in working order. But alas, I am not so lucky. My motility is still slow, and I'm not producing enough sperm. Although they look good apparently see this link on Morphology. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Semen_analysis#Morphology
But, all in all, I'm in scientific terms, a bit of a jaffa.
We had two choices, go straight for IVF, which we get one shot (excuse the pun) on the NHS, or we could try IUI which we get 5 goes. But the Doctor wouldn't tell us which one to go for, she wanted to let the Leeds Centre for Reproductive medicine make the decision.
So guess what.
Me and Cuppy are seeing each other again tomorrow, for another clandestine meeting. This time in Leeds. I'm thinking of bringing out a book. 101 places to blow your beans. I think it's a sure fire winner.
So, good people reading this blog, I will be doing the one handed snake charming of the pant python around 9.20 on Wednesday 8th September 2010. Think of me won;t you, I guarantee I won't be thinking of you, unless your name is Lulu, or Kylie, or Jennifer Aniston. Maybe Angelina Jolie if I'm in a tight spot.
D.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)