What I Wrote:
I’m looking at a chart of exploded female genitalia on the wall of a fertility doctor’s office. The familiar scent of rubber condoms fills my nostrils as the nurse eases it over the six-inch white dildo next to Lisa. Lisa is naked from the waist down except for the paper dress she keeps trying to pull down so she is not exposed.
Her desire for modesty puzzles me considering that momentarily a man alleging to be a medical professional is going to insert that lubed-up dildo into her. I know the sensors will transmit information to the screens and provide proof that this is a medical procedure and not some kinky sex scene from a hidden camera porn show.
Why I Wrote It:
I consider myself a pretty evolved guy emotionally and very secure in my place in the world with Lisa. But the first time that doctor put the ultra sound wand into Lisa’s Netherlands I battled feelings of irrational anger that I should be kicking his ass for the intrusion into a territory that by marriage right was mine, while at the same time emasculated that my own biology had failed to knock a puck past the goalie so we could avoid the meeting altogether.
I wrote about this mostly because other guys I know who can’t or don’t want to go to the appointments with their wives often wonder what is going on.
I also wrote it to encourage guys to be as present as note takers and dignity protectors.
Many fertility doctors will begin discussing how everything looks while their patient is still sitting there in stirrups, or still naked from the waist down except for a paper gown. Important measurements and suggestions are often provided, but that flimsy privacy covering does little to stop incoming drafts of air and I figured out it must be hard for Lisa to concentrate in such an unusual conversation position.
There is so much to retain at every appointment, and having two people there definitely reduces the chance that some important information will be missed.