Things That Go Bump in the Night of the Infertile (Tuesday)

So, what were we talking about? Oh right... Fears. And people going through infertility treatments are loaded with them. Some of our fears are injected into us by our "well-meaning" relatives who had a friend who had a neighbor whose sister's  cousin's dry cleaner had an IVF nightmare. My answer to this relative is: "Prove it." I'm not kidding.

If you're going to open your big trap and scare the follicles out of me, I insist that you produce this person.... Come, I've got some things that could use some dry cleaning. Where does she work?

Some of our fears are hormone-induced. Take this pill, shove this suppository, stick this needle in the front cellulite, stick this needle in the back cellulite... And the next thing you know, you're saying:

"Please, please, I need your help. What if I don't get pregnant this month? What if I have to go through another cycle? What if I never ovulate? What am I going to do? I'm not going to make it through it. I just can't. What if it never happens? I just can't. I won't make it through it" the woman behind the deli counter. That's the last time she'll ever use the phrase: "May I help the next person?"

And then some of our fears are caused by our fatal mistake of watching the news.

Somewhere in the back recesses of our minds we all have this crazy fear: "What if they inseminate me with somebody else's sperm by mistake and I get pregnant?"

Positive side: Bragging rights. I could finally say to my husband: "See? I told you it was your fault all along!"

I actually do remember on one of my IUI go 'rounds, waiting in the insemination room all dressed-up like a paper doll, when the nurse came with a mostly- full sample cup in her hand with my husband's name written on it.

"I have to confirm this is yours." She said, showing me the cup.

Me being me, even when naked from the waist down (perhaps even more so then) I answered: "Well, yes, that's my husband's name on the label. I have no idea who you've got there in the cup, but that's definitely his name on the label."    

So we have this fear, and maybe we don't take it too seriously... and then it  comes true. Not to us. Not to anyone we know. One- in- a- million, no way it could happen, and then there it is on the news.  

There's a book out now called "Misconception" written by a couple that it actually happened to.  I haven't read the book, but the doctor who wrote the article I read about it believes that the error may have been in miscommunication or mislabeling a sperm sample, but almost definitely involved the fact that the two women had the same last name. Well, that's all I had to hear.   

Time to make a phone call.

"Hello, is this my fertility clinic? Any other patients there with the last name Shandle-Fox? Or Fox? Or Shandle?

Are there any employees named Shantell? Or Lori? Cory? Tori? Is there a doctor named Lori, Cory, or Tori? Or a doctor whose wife is named Lori, Cory, or Tori? How about a cat?

My Hebrew name is Hana. Any Hanas? Are you within delivering distance to a Benihana restaurant? I don't want any confusion if I happen to be getting inseminated when someone's ordering lunch.   

Are there any embryologists with heavy accents who might say anything  that might sound like Shandle-Fox to someone? Like 'Handle Box.' That's a phrase an embryologist might use.  Handle box. Shandle-Fox. It could happen. 

Please tell me who among the staff has the best handwriting. The woman who vacuums at night? Please, please, I implore you... Next time, let her label my husband's sperm."

And, PS. in the case I mentioned above, the woman who got pregnant with the sperm of the other's husband: She carried the baby to term and handed the baby over to them. (wow!)

Listen, I gotta go. Today's election day and I have to figure out who I'm going to vote against.

I'll talk with ya again tomorrow.