T went to the doctor yesterday to get a complete physical. He H-A-T-E-S doctors. He saw Dr. Compassionate, the same one who gave us the official insurance referral to go to Dr. JellyFinger (who turned out to be Dr. Don’tWasteMyTime). He said that they talked for about 15 minutes, she offered to examine him but said that the urologist was an expert and would probably do everything she would do and more so it really wasn’t worth it at that point. T agreed. She was impressed with his support of me in this TTC venture.
Once we returned from Dr. JellyFinger/Don’tWasteMyTime we understood that he had made his mind up before we stepped foot in his office that T did not in fact have a problem. He has good swimmers, good motility and good morphology; the numbers were just a bit low. He told us to have faith in quality not quantity and then pointed the finger at me as the reason we have not yet conceived. (“We don’t like to place blame, or say it is anyone’s fault, but…” all the while gesturing in my direction.) This did not sit well with T. He was actually quite angry. It seemed that the urologist was not interested in helping him until or unless his count dropped below 1 million/ml. This is not helpful to us. We know that I have issues so we need T to be in as perfect shape as he can be to help counteract my deficiencies.
This prompted T to go back to Dr. Compassionate and see if she could help him/us out. She asked how the urologist went and he said “Not worth a Fuck!” He explained what happened and suggested we tell my GYN about it so that maybe she would find someone else to refer her patients’ husbands to in the future. I think this is an excellent idea. She gave him a complete physical, stated he was healthy with a strong heart and only SLIGHTLY elevated blood pressure (he has a family history of high blood pressure).
She was ecstatic about his weight loss efforts, his progress so far and his current exercise program. She said his body heat during exercise seemed just fine for his little swimmers since the heat is not constant. He sweats hard for about 20 minutes and then it trails off as he is lifting weights and riding the bike. No problem there. This is a BIG relief for T since he was concerned that his hard work was actually damaging our chances at having a baby.
She then told T that she and her husband had struggled with infertility and eventually adopted three children domestically. He immediately had so many questions he wanted to ask her and was so excited to find someone who “gets it” but thought that it would be inappropriate to ask her. We are going to see if we can name her as his primary care physician though. He has “fired” the last two doctors he has had due to their apathy. She actually cared enough to sit and talk to him and tried to alleviate his anxieties about being there in the first place (did I mention he hates doctors?).
He goes back on Thursday for blood work (he needed to fast for the cholesterol screening) and to have a spot taken off his wrist which is not a mole but needs to come out. Hopefully we will have the results back before we head to the Fertility God next week Friday. (Fingers crossed chanting “please, please, please”.)
In other news. T lost his wedding ring yesterday. Rather, he noticed it was missing yesterday. Since his weight loss it has been a struggle just to keep the thing on his hand, it is at least 2 sizes too big. He looked all over for it in a panic and could not find it. He was almost late to the doctor’s because he was looking for it. He is not able to wear his ring to work since it would be a safety hazard. He usually keeps his watch and ring together so he can wear them both when he is home. His watch was sitting on the kitchen table; the ring was nowhere to be seen. We looked through all the papers and pile of keys, even digging through the dog’s food bin wondering if it had slipped off of his finger while he was feeding her. Nothing. We looked in the guestroom where he had been stripping wallpaper and rewiring the outlets and switches. Nothing. We looked in the office where he was also working on the electrical. Nothing. He looked in his car, under the seats, in the console. He looked through his dirty laundry wondering if it fell off in one of his pockets. He dug through the fishbowl we use to collect spare change since he had rolled some of it on Sunday. Nothing. I then wondered allowed if he had been wearing it when we packed up the stuff we took to Goodwill on Sunday. The look of horror on his face was indescribable.
We grabbed the dog, hopped in the car and drove over to Goodwill. They had already sorted through all of the donations from last weekend. They had not noticed a ring but we were more than welcome to fill out a miss-donation form and file it with the main office. If something came up, then they would let us know. Poor T was just heartbroken. I told him it would be OK, that his ring would turn up somewhere, probably right after we replaced it. He did not want a replacement; he wanted his ring, the one that I put on his finger when I (strapped the ball and chain to his leg) swore that I would be his forever. He had made himself sick thinking about it all day. Poor guy.
I went back into the living room to look again where we had already looked and to check between the cushions of the couch when he hollered that he had found it. It must have slipped off his hand when he was putting our gym bags away on Sunday. It was in the outside pocket of his bag. He was SO relieved. I think next week we will finally get into the jeweler and get that ring re-sized.