Road Trip

Friday morning; I slept okay but wake up full of nerves and anxiety as I have another long day ahead, this time all starting with a trip to the IVF clinic in Cambridge. El knows I like to be early so we leave in plenty of time, get lost and still make it 15 minutes early. Els in a better place today and we managed to talk normally in the car, although I know full well I’m not myself, there is too much swirling around in my head.

I kiss El goodbye and head to the entrance, signs everywhere stating masks and call ahead, my first panic moment, ahh I haven’t called ahead! Little things worry me..but the doors open so I walk in ‘have you called ahead?’ the receptionist asks and I was so apologetic that I hadn’t! She said it’s fine, and again we went through all the security questions to make sure the right person and not a fake was coming to donate and then she said ‘go back to your car and we will call you when we are ready’. Okay then, small panic as I know Ellen is taking the dog for a walk and it’s bloody chilly! Luckily she’s still there and I’m able to sit in the car until I get the call.

I head over when they are ready for me and I’m greeted at the door by one of the staff member, and they ask me to clean my hands and then take a seat so they can take my temperature. Little bit of paperwork to fill out to confirm I’m Covid free (as far as one can be aware). She then says ‘follow me’ and I’m looking around this friendly, modernised room thinking this is not what it’s like in the movies, I had based my views from the film road trip.

I follow the lady to a room similar to that of the room I had experienced the day before, the ‘sorry you’ve got cancer’ room. It’s a comfy sofa with a table and a computer. We go through more security questions and at this point my only surprise is that they haven’t asked me for my national insurance number and bank details. We then get into the nitty gritty of the paperwork which takes a good 20 minutes or so to get through. Answering all questions related to sperm donation and the eventualities, ie what happens if you die. Another penny drop moment that what is happening is serious to me. Basically after all that paperwork, the takeaway is that Ellen now owns my sperm and I’ve also agreed that they can complete tests on my sperm, poor little fellas. All the paperwork done the lady tells me we will be heading down to the room for me to make the deposit, again I get visions from road trip. She leads me back to the main reception to wait whilst she sorts the paperwork and I’m sat there panicking as I need a pee. She finally returns and I’m able to quickly message Ellen saying I should be out soon. She leads me to a room fittingly called Wembley and it’s not like the movies, it’s a bit shady and plain. There’s a chair, there’s a tv, there’s a sink and she gives me a tub and asks me to confirm my details are correct. ‘Yep they’re correct but can I be a pain and nip to the loo please’, she says yes because why wouldn’t she and leads me back to the front so I can go pee, I then return to the room and she explains what to do. ‘Make your deposit and then you will open this hatch, close the hatch with your tub and piece of paper in there, and then turn on the green light to alert the team next door’.

Okay easy enough, they leave and I lock the door. Anxiety kicks in as I hear the lab team next door laughing and I can see shapes moving through the cloudy hatch. The paper is just confirming previous ejaculation time/date and then confirmation of time the deposit was made. It was awkward and weird but I just embraced it and cracked on, left my tub and paper in the hatch, washed my hands and got out there as quickly as possible. They advise that they will contact me in the afternoon to discuss my results, so now I’m anxious about my results, is there more problems and woe?

We get home and I get back to work, which is a nice distraction from it all and then a couple hours of pass and I get the call. ‘It was a good sample, you will only need to come visit once more’ is the shortened version, I was certainly happy about that and I was straight on the lads group chat to let them know the tiny glimmer of light at the end of this dark tunnel was that I had some Michael Phelps. I have to go back to the clinic on Tuesday morning and along with the tests booked in for Tuesday afternoon and getting the results from my CT scan/bloods, here begins the next lot of worry. Through the evening and over the weekend I begin to note down the dates and some information with the possibility of doing a blog, I’m in a good head space so I think I could help. The weekend drags and flies by at the same time and I’m on edge waiting for a mental and emotional breakdown which still shows no signs of showing up. Will I be triggered?