Giving a sperm sample
I don’t know what prompted me to think of this subject today. Probably it was a repressed memory which must have been triggered by something. Certainly it was a memory I had banished from my conscious mind.
After Michael was born in 1996 Juliet decided to have no more children. It wasn’t something I agreed with, but who am I, a mere male, to challenge someone who spent 20 hours in labor giving birth to our first child?
Being a woman though, Juliet changed her mind a couple of years later. We spent the next couple of years practicing the business without producing any dividends.
Suspecting a plumbing issue, Juliet went to see a specialist in Albury. Being a very competent and thorough gentleman he wanted to rule out all possibilities before giving his pronouncement.
Sadly for me, that included a check to make sure I wasn’t firing blanks.
We lived at the time in a village of 500 people called Porepunkah. Albury was 100km away and our nearest major centre was 70km away in Wangaratta.
The specialist explained that I needed to produce a sample in a plastic container and deliver it to the pathology service in Wangaratta. The sample had to be fresh, no more than 20 minutes old.
That ruled out producing the goods at home and driving 45 minutes to Wangaratta.
On the fateful day I left home in the middle of the morning equipped with nothing but my plastic jar, a doctor’s letter, some visual stimulation and a plan.
The plan involved pulling (literally) off the road about 5km from Wangaratta in the bush near the river. This part of the operation went successfully, albeit furtively.
Job done, I drove speedily into town to the pathology address listed on the doctor’s letter. Holding perishable goods, I had trouble getting a parking space, which caused some anxiety.
Calming myself, I entered the pathology office, which fortunately was empty apart from the young and rather attractive attendant (not that I was thinking of anything except disposal).
I explained myself and she looked at me as though I was holding a dead cat. I had come to the wrong place, she said. I had to deliver the precious cargo to the laboratory at the hospital.
Counting the seconds, I listened fitfully as she gave directions. I rushed back to the car, mindful of an accidental spill, and ventured onwards.
The hospital is a big place and I had trouble finding the lab. Eventually I stumbled inside and saw scientific-looking people in white coats and spectacles with microscopes in the background.
Fortunately I was at the right place and they knew exactly what to do. Fretting that I had come too late, I entrusted the valuables into their care.
The result came back a few days later that I was firing live ammunition. Juliet had endometriosis which needed treatment before we conceived the twins in 2003.
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It was interesting reading of your experiences. At the other end of the cycle….. When my wife and I had had the two planned (?) kids and we didn't want any more and definitely ruled out celebacy we agreed I have a vasectomy.
After due counselling the deed was performed.
Doctor's name??????
HITCHCOCK…….
Bill
Thanks for that story Michael. I'll never be able to drive to Wangaratta again without being reminded of it.