What Exactly Did You Mean By "I Screwed Up The Sample, Frowny Face"?

   With 20 minutes till my appointment at MGH, I was just getting on the Mass Pike in Weston. For those that aren't from the area, that is not enough time to make the journey. I had moved my appointment from Friday to today, and from 1pm to 10am. I had not reflected the time change in my calendar, so when I called to confirm the appointment at 9:25am, and they told me it was at 10am, I ran down to the parking lot screaming at Siri to give me directions to MGH. We have valet parking at work due to overflow, and the attendants looked at me in horror as I ran by screaming into my phone.

  It wasn't until I pulled into the garage, 10 minutes late already, that I realized I had left my wallet at the office in my haste. I thankfully was able to prove my identity at the fertility clinic through the following:

• I do know my birth date and social security number
• I successfully argued that it would be rather odd for someone to give bodily fluid samples in someone else's place under the circumstances. This isn't a test that cheating on will get us pregnant.

  Let me pause here to warn readers that I am not going to hold back on details of anything on this blog. That would defeat the whole purpose. This process is going to include the discussion of the human body and all its wonders and weirdness. That said, I will do my best to keep everything SFW (safe for work).

  After "confirming" my identity, I was given two cups, and instructed to place the baby batter in one, followed by a urine sample in the other. The urine sample cup was rather small, and was half filled with an alkaline solution to balance the pH in hopes that any soldiers in there would survive. The lab tech told me I should empty my bladder "about halfway" before beginning as they would want me to empty it for the test.

  Entering the bathroom with my two cups, I estimated how full the tank was, how much I would need to remove to get halfway, and prepared myself for the challenge of stopping the removal mid-stream. The first physical pain of the experience occurred today.

  Next I entered the "sample production room". This was the second of these rooms I have entered, and this one was a bit more extreme than the first. If you haven't had the need to enter one of these rooms before, it really is troubling. There is a couch or a chair for your use. I'm not sure why anyone would sit on this thing given the room's purpose. There is a collection of magazines and videos of various levels of depravity to assist in the process. Once again, not something that I am going to physically touch, let alone use. This sample room's video and magazine collection was much more extensive than at Newton-Wellesley. Several rather specific sub-genres were represented that I wouldn't expect. City vs. suburbs I suppose.

  During the "process" it is extremely important to get the timing right. One needs to have some sense of when it's time to reach for the cup. I misjudged, and resulted in only about 20% capture. Full on panic commenced. I half contemplated waiting around for a bit and trying again, but thinking better of it, closed the cap, took the pen and wrote  I screwed up this sample :-( on the cap and sent the sample through the revolving door to the lab. The frowny face, I thought, will create empathy.

  On to stage two of the process. As soon as I started filling the second cup I realized I had misjudged the volume it would take to fill the container. Overflow occurred, and had to be dealt with. I was now in a complete and total shame spiral. I'm that guy who screws up his samples.

  As I exited the bathroom, now fully ashamed of my performances and about to have a breakdown, an early 20's female lab tech was waiting outside with an odd look on her face. She is obviously prepared for an awkward conversation, and asks as tactfully as she can: What exactly did you mean by "I screwed up this sample, frowny face?". I walked her through my mistakes in both samples, she laughed and reassured me that the samples will be fine. As I told Shannon later, they are seeing if anyone is at the club, not whether they have reached capacity.

  I headed to the car and scrambled around for loose change to pay for parking. While searching, I thought about my emotional readiness for my samples coming back Zero from today. I would say I have reached the acceptance stage of my processing this whole thing, and I am pretty confident I will be fine with the results.

  As I pulled out of the garage Shannon called and told me the first good test results of the experience: My hormone results came back and they are all normal! This means that most likely I do not have full testicular failure. Unless I have a rare genetic issue, there should be bannermen in the keep.

  What a great way to end another step in the journey.