tosspot

I've had more interest in this impending blog than anything else I've written, showing what a sick bunch of friends I have. No one cares about the technical details of my cancer, they just want to hear about me wanking into a jar.

To be honest, I'm tired. No, not because it took that long, but I've had quite a 'physical' day - lumping a load of goods for the office and trudging around on trains. I've just got in and I'm not feeling 'sharp', so this blog will be fairly short and to the point.

I went to the EGA building, a new part of the UCH ... I have no idea what EGA stands for, but it's a new, white, gleemingly bright building that reminded me of the kind of clinics you see on American television shows.

The department I went to was very quiet - thankfully I wasn't in a waiting room full of people waiting their turn - I only saw one other guy and very briefly.

I was taken into a consultation room and given a small mound of paperwork to do. The 'very nice man' then started to explain a few things to me. I'll bullet point what I can remember ...

• There is a good chance my sperm may be affected by the bout of chemo I had (DNA damage)
• If they have just one good 'swimmer', they will freeze it anyhow - as 'one' might be enough in the future, with the speed that this kind of technology changes
• I can get my results of how 'good' my sample is, tomorrow AM
• They will keep the sperm for 10 years (if it's worth keeping)
• The sperm is kept at minus 191 degrees C. That is very cold.
• If I was not on the NHS, it would cost £5,000 per YEAR to keep in storage (£50,000 for 10 years!)
• I can have a free 'sperm test' after 6-12 months after chemo has finished to see if I'm producing any good stuff

I think that's about all I can remember. Finally, I was led into a room to do the deed.

I'm not going to get too graphic - Yes, there was some magazines - standard UK top shelf stuff. No video ... but to be honest, it wasn't a joyful experience. It's just about the last thing in the world that you feel like doing after all that talk - plus there is a certain sadness that you're HERE, doing THIS, because of THAT.

After handing over the pot to a bloke whose day job is looking under a microscope at this stuff all day, I left.

Job done. Back to work.

I'll phone up tomorrow for the results and post the results here.