Friday, October 16, 2009


There are blog posts that fall under "too much information" and I've hesitated for a while on this as a result, but the situation has become so bizarre and frustratingly comical that... well... live with it.

The Norse God of male fertility is plucky little bugger named Freya. He's responsible for the rain and sunshine and thus, the fertility of the Earth. He's also the god of love. Despite being of Norse descent myself, I had never heard of the guy. But he's apparently taken a real shine to me.

You all may remember a little procedure I underwent just prior to the Super Bowl this year. Three kids was my absolute, no-going-back, limit and so I got fixed. The whole thing was pretty simple and aside from a urologist who insisted on showing me the items he was snipping from my nether regions, and the running commentary he provided (in his West African accent) as he did so - "You have enormous vas deferens! Biggest I've seen." - it wasn't bad.

Six weeks post I had to provide him with a "sample" to be certain I was in fact sterile. The whole sample thing is... well... weird. Here's a cup. Do your business. Deliver cup to lab. When I visited the doc for that appointment the count was <1 per ml, which is right on track but it isn't zero. So another appointment was scheduled for 6 weeks on, and another cup was provided. I dispatched my cup to the lab and went to visit doc again. This time the count was 98 per ml. "Have you been having sex?" the urologist queried.

"Yes, I have," I snapped, defensively.

"Well, it sometimes takes a while to clear it out. Just keep using birth control and we'll see you again in 8 weeks. Here's a cup."

Two months later I deliver my cup to the lab and go see my doc. "I am baffled," he said as he studied the lab report. "How can you have 1111 per ml? That is just a strange number. 1-1-1-1. We will have to do it again. Let's see you in 3 months."

"But it's increasing," I said, just a wee bit concerned. "Should that be happening?"

"Well, if it was anything more than just clearing it would be in the millions, so don't worry. I once had a patient go a full year before we got to zero. Here's a cup."

So three months go by and I take my cup over to the lab last Friday. I get a call late in the afternoon. "Hi, Lex. I'm terribly sorry but something happened with your sample. It sort of spilled. All over. Everything. We'll need another."

"I have an appointment next week," I said, "and I can't do it right now. And I need another cup!"

"Well the hospital's open tomorrow. You could just do it down there," she suggested helpfully.

"It's a sperm sample. It's not like just peeing in a cup. It's a little more involved than that and the hospital is less than ideal for the process. I'll just deliver another to you on Monday."

"Ok then. Sorry again," she said, and hung up.

I had my wife bring home a specimen cup from work and bright and early Monday morning I did my duty... again.

Today I saw the doc.

"Do you remember the last time the count was 1111 per ml," he asked. "Well, this time it is 2222 per ml. Do you know what the odds are for that? I think they are getting the counts wrong. I called the lab and they claim the numbers are right, but really, 1111 and then 2222? Come on. So let's try a different lab."

"Ok, whatever," I sighed, "But what if those numbers come back and they say I really am at, I don't know, 2498 or something? What if the number actually is rising? What then?"

"I have been at this a long time," he said, "and I have never seen this before. Never. If somehow there was a reattachment we would see huge numbers, and we aren't. But we should not be seeing increasing numbers of any size, so I'm at a loss. The only thing I can think of is this lab just can't do their job. That's my only explanation."

I threw my hands up. "Well I'm getting a little tired of it," I whined.

"I understand," he said sympathetically, "Here's a cup."

I have an appointment with him (again!) in two weeks.

In the meantime I remain a medical freak.

And that Norse God of fertility had better find somebody else to work his mojo on cause my cup runneth over, thank you very much.

1 comment:

Rocky said...

mmmmm. i was going to question the veracity of your tale, until this word verification popped up: "comer"

somebody has a sense of humor.