Here's the weird thing about the pick-up. You go around to the back of the building, where there's an unlabeled door with a buzzer (although, this month, there was a "patient pick-up" sign pointing to the right driveway, lol). You ring the bell, but you don't ever hear anything. You just see the security camera light blinking, and wait for a youngling in scrubs to open the door to let you in. There's a line of tanks going down the hall. The girl takes your ID, and grabs your tank. Then, she explains that the tank will keep your "specimen" frozen for 7 days, you have 10 to return the tank, blah blah blah, and sends you on your way. Oh yeah, and the drive way is only wide enough for one car, so if another one comes while you are backing out onto Lexington Ave, you are in a bit of a conundrum.
So, I drove quickly, but not INCREDIBLY crazily to Diamond. This time, I had the sense to keep the tank on the floor of the front seat, so I knew it wouldn't tip over. I arrived with 5 minutes to spare; Jami happened to be standing by the desk when I walked in. She whisked the tank away, while the receptionist (not the one I usually see) said very professionally, "You must be here for an insemination procedure." In true form and without really thinking, I replied, "Yes, I am here to procure a hasty knock-up." Nothing, not even a smile. Awww...c'mon hon; infertile women live for humor. The least you could do is help lighten the mood. C'est la vie.....
Jami came back and led me to the exam room; the same exam room where a defeated Riveting Mama cried in front of Dr. W last week. She started to say, "Everything off from the..." then stopped herself, finishing by saying, "Well, you know what do do by now." She came back, catheter and syringe in hand. I looked at it this time, surprised to see that it was mixed in a yellow medium. This was surprising to me. I've heard of pink and blue, but not yellow. Hmm...
(I should call this: "I hauled a gigantic tank across town and all I got was this tiny stinkin' vial").
Jami said that the sample looked great, with 45% motility, which is almost what you would expect in a normal fresh sample. She also said the volume was greater than she would have expected, but didn't give me a number. My OCD-in-terms-of-fertility self didn't think to ask. She showed me the vial, and asked me to confirm my donor number before laying back. I asked to keep the vial this time. Some people don't want to; some people do. I thought it would be a nice momento. I never said I was normal, heh.
This IUI was a lot easier than the last one. The last one wasn't difficult, but I had a lot of cramping. This time, I didn't feel much. Jami said my cervix was open and that my cervical mucus looked "great." It was over even quicker than the last one, but true to her tradition, Jami wished the swimmers luck, saying, "Ok little guys, go and do your thing." She turned the lights off this time (I didn't ask her to; I think she just kind of knew I'd appreciate it) and told me to lay there "as long as you like." I reflected, I meditated. I thought about how everything in my life has brought me to this place in time, right here; right now. I praised myself for the good work I had done to get here, for being strong enough to go through this alone. I'm not sure if I believe everything I told myself, but I'm proud that I was able to say those things nonetheless. After 20 minutes, I got up, dressed, grabbed my now-empty tank, plunked down my MasterCard again, and left.
As I sit typing this up in a hipster coffee shop (yup, I'm ok with a little caffeine-don't judge me), I am merely thinking about being in the present. I have two days off work, and I'm going to do my best to rest up, and devote some time to myself. People at work will survive until Friday. The Ironman can go do whatever he wants to do (we have not talked since last week). My family and friends will be all right. I'm going to therapy, to acupuncture, and to bed. And that is the end of it.
(Insemisocks: necessarily clothing for a cold table and a warm heart).