In case you missed yesterday's blog - I took a trip to London to have my semen frozen, as chemotherapy will most likely make me infertile. Due to a bit of a 'timing' ballsup, I have already had one chemotherapy session prior to yesterday's 'sample taking'.
This morning I called the clinic to see what they found.
- The 'good news' is that they did freeze the sample, as some moving sperm were found
- *however* - the sample was (and I quote), 'a very, very poor' sample. I blamed the 'very, very poor' pornography on offer.
- The average sample will contain 20 million sperm per millilitre. Of which over 50% will be healthy and moving ...
- ... my somewhat pathetic attempt contained 4.6 million sperm per millilitre, of which only 32% were moving. Or, as I like to think of it, 68% were dead. Probably from hitting their little heads on the side of a plastic pot whilst travelling at about 32 mph. That would do it.
- I have a lot of respect for the guy in the lab who counted all of these yesterday. Very keen eyes.
So what does this mean?
Well, I'm buggered if I know really ... I asked the very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very hyporthetical question that should I meet Ms Right tomorrow and we took a trip to my little frozen deposit box, what are the odds of us being able to spawn our demon child. He said that it would depend on her and that there were some advanced treatments where only one sperm was needed. I think, shrouded in the answer, was the implication of 'how much money are you prepared to throw at this thing?'. What do I get for a fiver, would be my answer if pushed for one.
He did invite me back for free annual checks-up - they can't freeze any more but would be able to tell me if my count was any higher. But it's safe to say that if that's the drop-off after one chemo dose, by the end of the 8 or so months that lay ahead, I'm going to be as fertile as an allotment plot in the Sahara.
So that's it. I currently have 1.472 million swimming sperm in a pot being held at minus 191 degrees celsius in a freezer near Euston, ready to save the human race after everyone wakes up infertile on the Day Of The Jaffa Triffids - huge stalking, penis-shaped plants, that make clicking sounds whilst sucking your balls dry with their laser eyes ...
... armed with only a pippette, a steady hand and some willing open-legged females, we shall then break into London UCH and repopulate the earth with my breed of deeply sarcatic and bitter offspring, all with very limited maths and DIY skills and a genetic disposition to addictions and cancer. What can go wrong?
More chemo tomorrow.
*sigh*
2 comments:
I did wonder why this was happening after chemo started.
Am I the only one who tried to reverse the numbers, back from 1.472 million, to work out what unholy amount of spunk was produced?
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