Monkey Business

Well, the Day 20 appointment has come and gone. And perhaps it's the sudden heat wave here in Scotland, but suddenly, everyone I encounter is behaving like the sun has flambed all the logic and reasoning synapses in their brain.

I mean, you would not believe what I had to go through to find and purchase a cool bag. You know, like a thermal insulated bag to keep stuff chilled. I wasn't sure if I needed one, since I could not remember if the nasal spray I was picking up at the clinic actually needed to be kept cool or not. However, since it was about 80 degrees outside and I was facing an hour plus bus ride back home after the appointment, it seemed a case of better safe than sorry.

I had to go to three different shops to find a fucking cool bag. Since I was in a hurry, I walked straight up to ask a sales assistant each place I went. You would have thought from the way they looked at me that I was trying to purchase a hairless green monkey. I even went into a drugstore, since I thought maybe they might have one, to keep medicines cool.

"Keep medicine...cool?" the girl behind the counter gawped.

"YES. Cool," I said through gritted teeth. "You know. For drugs that might need to be kept refrigerated, or at the very least NOT ROASTED IN THE UNCHARACTERISTICALLY WARM WEATHER WE ARE SUDDENLY HAVING."

"Um. No, " she said, glazed over like an indifferent donut.

I finally got one at Woolworths, though the zombie shop assistant told me at first they didn't have any. I went to look myself, and they had an entire shelf full- about a dozen different types! I bought a jaunty little green and blue number, and on the way out, I made sure to wave it in the zombie's face.

The appointment itself was fairly uneventful, apart from in two respects.

Firstly, the clinic has, for the second time running, lost all my file notes. The last time was when I phoned up to actually make the Day 20 appointment. Then it was simply a matter of calling back later when they had a chance to put their hands on said file. Which they did, and all was well. However, on this occasion, I was a little unimpressed that they had not managed to track down the file and have it available for an actual appointment. There was some muttering about a recent HFEA inspection and how everything had had to be locked away. Why that should mean the File of Mare should go mysteriously into the void is beyond me.

All I can say is that those notes had better turn up, because hell will freeze over before I run around compiling all the test copies and filling out the consent forms again.

Secondly, on the never-ending subject of the consent forms, I had to go over them again with La Nurse. You see, there were a few bits and pieces on the forms that were deemed so weighty and important that E. and I had had to take away home to discuss between ourselves, sign, etc. So now the time had now come to hand them back in.

La Nurse scrutinsed the signed forms in some detail, and my heart sank when I realised that if anything on E's form was wrong, it was going to be a complete pain in the ass to fix it.

Because you see, E. did not attend this appointment with me- to hold my hand and lovingly stare into my eyes like the doting, caring partner he is- while a woman I met five minutes ago shoves a ultrasound wand around my fanoir. The discussion I had with him about his non-attendance merits a whole post of its own, so more on that next time. Suffice to say, he wasn't there.

Fortunately E. has correctly ticked all the boxes, and his form was deemed to pass muster.

My form, on the other hand, raised a stern gaze from La Nurse.

"This is wrong," she said, pointing to the box on the form that deals with what happens to any stored embryos, in the event of my untimely demise.

"Sorry. I don't follow, " I said in my bestest people pleasing patient voice. "In what way is it "wrong"?"

"WELL," she exclaimed, "you've given consent to enable E. to use the embryos for whatever purpose he likes if you die."

"Yeeeeees," I replied, "that's correct. We discussed it, he and I. See, he's agreed that if he shuffles off this mortal coil, I get to use any remaining stored embryos. So it seemed only fair that he should get to do the same if I happen to...er...die."

"But, but, but," she spluttered, "he would have to use a surrogate". As if this was the most appalling notion she had ever heard.

I fought the urge to say, "Oooh gosh, we were hoping that one day, technology would advance enough to enable him to carry the fetus in his own body."

I'm not really sure what was the fucking point of sending E. and I away with the forms to have us make that private decision, if I then had to justify it to La Nurse. But hey. I managed to convince her that frankly, if I die, E. is welcome to use the embryos in an attempt to impregnate a hairlesss green monkey for all I care. Though she made me specify in writing on the form itself- "Me=Dead. Him= Can do whatever he likes. Monkey optional."

Then it was off to the ultrasound, for a quick date with the svunnet apekatt*. All appeared well, and I was dispatched with my nasal spray which I start snorting tomorrow (and which incidentally, does not require refrigeration.)

Oh, and rather weirdly, for some reason I was given a print-out picture of my right ovary, with its little follicular remnants. "In case E. wants to see it!" she chirped.

Great, thanks. Now go find my damn file notes, willya?

*Norwegian for "wand monkey"