Yesterday my daughter and her husband attended a hospital app. Her husband had to hand in a semen sample for checking. Sadly, the odds are against them a little, with mother nature having been a bit of a bitch. They felt it was time a couple of years ago to try for a baby but failure after 18 months meant investigation. Kerri, my beautiful first born and only daughter has polycystic ovaries. James, her husband, needed a testicle removing from cancer when he was in his early twenties, but thankfully has been fine ever since. It's not so much the amount that's needing checked but the quality, just incase. And to make matters more diffucult, the fertitily treatment Kerri was put on was the wrong one. A wasted six months, but thankfully gave her no other ill-effect. So she has to start from tablet fresh, as well as follow the strict fertility code on both parts to lead to conception. If not lucky this way then expensive IVF treatment will be a future option. If a couple in this world deserves to be blessed with a child it's Kerri and James and my heart is throbbing for a ginger granddaughter.
When talking about the appointment, I asked how long he was given in his private room to supply a sample and she said the sample had to be prepared at home and brought straight in. The fresher the better. It was thought inappropriate to have wanking men in side rooms in this Buckinghamshire hospital. It reminded me of the time a friend in her forties needed similar intervention and her husband attended our own local Scottish one. A room, a 'helpful' magazine, a cup and a half-hour he was given. He was out in under 2 minutes. She was mortified and he felt like a superhero!
These days it's outside late at night, with that convenient bypass next to the nurses quarters I'd be more worried about and not daytime side rooms. 'Specially if the girls forget to close the curtains. Of any hospital in similar settings.