The Lone Ranger sucks…we need another masked hero

Hey kids. Got the results back from the SA yesterday afternoon, but I needed a few hours break and a good nights sleep before I could tell you about it.

Unlike every TV episode or movie, this time, there was no catchy theme tune and no galloping Lone Ranger appearing at the last minute to heroically save the day…lazy git obviously had something better to do…

The results came back saying zero swimmers whatsoever – not even a one legged aquaphobic doing doggy paddle in the shallow end..nada, nichts, zip.

This wasn’t unexpected…its what the previous SA said, but it still broke me…

Fortunately, your poor mom had to go out for a while (taking nan to the chiropractor), which meant I could crawl into bed and sob myself to sleep. Son, ignore what anyone else says – its okay to cry, its better than keeping it all in, because guys who do that become bitter and aggressive with a tendency to hurt people, physically and emotionally, and the more you deny your feelings, the less likely you are to really know what you feel…I’m not saying you need to be a red-eyed pansy, continually snorting into a pocket full of Kleenex, but when you feel the urge…let it all out. I know this helps…I did it yesterday, on my own and in the privacy of my bedroom (there are a few things in life it’s best to handle this way…but that’s another subject)…and I feel better already.

You see, unless the fertility specialist we’re meeting next Friday has some sort of indication on what the chances are of my producing viable sperm with treatment, we’re set on going down the sperm donor route. We only have these two options if your mom is going to fall pregnant.

The first option is a daily injection of the hormones that a ‘normal’ pituitary gland produces. The thinking behind this is to try and kickstart my testes into developing sperm. My darling daughter, you need to know that as a guy it hurts even to see the words ‘kick’ and ‘testes’ in the same sentence – don’t ever be tempted to hit or kick a guy there, it’s the worst of the worst. Unless of course the guys attacking you or something – if that’s the case, give them the old Naas Botha or the Francios Steyn, and when he’s down, do the Riverdance on them for all you’re worth. But sorry, I digress. The problem with this treatment option (besides the cost and having to have an injection into my backside every single day) is they have absolutely no way of knowing firstly if it will work, or secondly how long it will take if it does work…it could take a year, or two years, or I could be on it for two years and nothing has happened. And this is the crux of the problem…it may not work and they can’t give us even a rough steer on the percentages. I don’t want you thinking that its the cost – we’d find the money, or that it’s the inconvenience of a daily injection – I’d buy your mother a little nurses outfit and then there’s no hesitation…its the odds…they’re lousy, they’re crappy, worst of all, no-one can tell us what they really are.

So, it looks like we’re hunting for a sperm donor. We need a new hero to come to our rescue. This opens up a whole new flood of questions/issues/thoughts and feelings, and over the next few weeks, we can chat about them…but for now, know that I’m devastated that you guys aren’t mine in the purely genetic sense, but know that it doesn’t mean I love you any less – it may be the opposite in fact – you’re a gift that someone else has made possible, and often the things someone gives you are more valuable to you than the things you’ve bought yourself…

I think we need a name for this sperm donor…I though about calling him the Lone Stranger, but I’ve gone off that after the Lone Ranger proved to be so flipping unreliable…so, another masked hero, someone heroic/handsome/ manly/ kind/brave/reliable and guaranteed to show up in a crisis…I think we’ll call him Zorro!

~ by HopelesslyTTC on 22/08/2009.

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