So, twice in the last week, I’ve jerked off into a cup.
Having had now a good 20 years experience in jerking it, this has been an unusual experience. During my teenage years, a huge part of the masturbatory experience was finding a convenient and easily concealable way of disposing of the end product. Old socks, tissues, doing it in the shower…that sort of thing. And, well…like a lot of guys (most guys, probably), I got a lot of practice at disposing of the evidence.
And now twice I’ve carefully contained the evidence in a sterile, labeled jar, written down the time when I produced the sample and delivered it to the lab at the local Kaiser-Permanente facility. I suppose I shouldn’t have been embarrassed by the lab tech asking, in her outside voice, “Is it a urine sample?” and then, when I shook my head, “Oh, a SEMEN sample.” But it’s hard not to be. I wasn’t even about to turn around to get a look at whether the people sitting around in the lobby, waiting for radiology appointments (radiology and the lab being right next to one another), had any reaction to that…much less the old lady in line behind me, waiting to get her blood drawn.
I shouldn’t have been embarrassed because ultimately there’s nothing really to be embarrassed about. Ordinary medical process, medical facility, probably nobody cares. But it’s a little weird making something that was always so private – something that was to be hidden, thrown out, run down the drain or through the laundry – so strangely public. Here I am, handing over a paper bag containing a cup into which I have ejaculated to a perfect stranger. I know what’s in, she knows what’s in it, and now everybody in radiology knows what’s in it, too.
Fortunately, it was a different lab tech the second time around, who managed to ask what kind of sample I was presenting in a much more discreet manner.
Unfortunately, I dropped off my second sample on Thursday afternoon, and business hours have come and gone on Friday without me hearing a peep from the lab or the RE’s office. And now we’re headed into the holiday weekend. So, in all likelihood, I won’t hear results from the second test until Tuesday.
You ever try not to think of something? You know, the old “whatever you do, don’t think of pink elephants” trick? The harder you try not to think about something, the more you think about it. And now I’ve got three long days to try my best not to think about the results of the second test. That should go well. And given how well I slept last night anticipating getting results this morning, I should be feeling FUCKING GREAT by Tuesday morning.
On the plus side, like I said before, I’m not expecting much in the way of a different result this time around. This is just a hoop to jump through so we can all make absolutely sure we know what we’re dealing with before I get shipped off to the urologist to start seriously discussing terrifying terms like “testicular biopsy.”