"An appointment...for wanking."

One of our doctor’s visits involved Jenny getting all sorts of blood tests and internal examinations at the hospital. All fairly standard procedures in the run up to babies, and we were basically trying to work out why we hadn’t been able to conceive, despite having had quite a lot of sex (more on this later).

So Jenny has all of her tests and we start talking to the doctor afterwards. Once he’s asked her all her questions he starts writing down something illegible on his notepad and without looking away, calm as you like, asks ‘Have you ever had a semen analysis?’

It takes me a second to realise he’s probably not talking to Jenny anymore.

I compose myself and say no.

He tells us that I’ll have to provide one for testing, and for the briefest moment I think he means that he wants me to provide one right now, but then he says he’ll arrange an appointment for me to get one done and starts writing more notes.

This man is arranging an appointment for me to have a wank.

An appointment...for wanking.

Wanking!

After we leave I think of a joke I should of said but didn’t [“Where were you when I was fifteen, doc?” – cause I’m cool and call doctors ‘doc’ apparently] because I’m frankly too dumbfounded to speak at that moment. I don’t know why; it’s something we had known would likely happen but I never thought that it would actually come to pass (pun intended).

So we leave and eagerly await the day the letter will arrive with a date, place and time at which I’ll be indulging in some self love.

For science.

And babies.

I’ll tell you about it next time. As you may have guessed, it’s also quite awkward.