There is still a bit of residual space in that area after today’s prostate exam.
As uncomfortable as the test was, it was over in about ten seconds bent over clutching the exam table.
A whole lot less time than ANY of the dozens-maybe even a hundred- ultra sounds Lisa had to sit through during our infertility days.
Of course that ultrasound is just one of many of the daily bodily abuses women face during any given infertility procedure.
I can’t imagine having my ass turned into a pin cushion constantly being filled with salad oil like fluids, or getting bee sting like shots in my stomach daily knowing that those stings were likely to contribute to abdominal bloating in the near future.
The daily blood draws to check hormone levels, and then the big event egg extraction and embryo transfer…I ain’t got the words to express my admiration for the strength of the female infertility patient.
If any of my almost a father brothers are thinking about complaining about how crabby or short fused their wives are during infertility, I would say this:
Just remember the gelled up glove exam you get once a year.
Then imagine having that intrusion every other day or so for a couple of weeks.
That’s right–you’d be grumpy and short fused too.
And you probably wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week.