Just say no........

This weekend a pleasant doctor from my fertility center called and told me that I passed my drug test. She also reminded me to stay away from dope and poppy seeds. No big deal. I'll just eye everything bagels with lust for the next few months.

Waiting and waiting and waiting........

So it's been a while. Actually it's been over 6 months. I know this because the fertility clinic called me to schedule a physical exam, pelvic exam, blood sample, and urine sample because it's been SO DAMN LONG. They kept reassuring me that I was an ideal candidate and somebody definitely wanted my eggs but I couldn't help feeling like a genetic loser. Nobody wants my short, brunette, vision-impaired eggs. If only I were tall and Asian......Oh, if only! Other than personal life drama nothing has happened in my oocyte donation world for months.......Until now...... First, personal drama! In March I was fired from my job! Boo! I misplaced a laptop. It was found. I was worried people would think I was a thief and was relieved when it turned up but apparently that didn't matter. I just pissed off the wrong person. Then I decided to get serious about grad school and started taking my prerequisite classes. Yay! To save money, I've moved back in with my older brother. Mixed feelings. That boy I was seeing right before I became accepted as a donor is now my boyfriend. Things are getting......not serious....just regular, with this boyfriend, who knows nothing about my egg donation. Secrets! Double Life! I started working part time as a dominatrix. I did this three years ago and it was a good way to make money. It hasn't been that profitable for me this time around and my family knows nothing about it. They know nothing about the Queerness either. Secret Triple/Quadruple Life! Ok, now oocyte drama. In late July, I got a call to come in because it's been 6th months since I had all those exams taken and they wanted to update them. Plus, they might have a family that wants my eggs. No big deal. If everything goes well they might even be able to harvest my eggs by August 14th! They quietly slipped it in the conversation so I thought it might be a test. I maintained my composure until they hung up. HOLY FUCKING SHIT! I might make $8,000 next month! Do you know what that is?! That's a quarter of my student loans! Wouldn't I love to chip away at those before taking new grad school loans in a year!? This is the best news I had gotten in months. I danced for joy. I called my husband (in the queer sense, not the legal sense) to tell him the good news. We agreed that he would dutifully pick me up after my harvesting and I would splurge on a cab and some Thai food. We would be happy and gay and rich and on painkillers! So, here's how the exams go at my clinic. I went through all of this in addition to a personality test and interview with a psychologist way back in December. Luckily, they assumed my mental health had remained more or less stable. First, the blood. This was used to test me for genetic disorders but now that that's out of the way, it's just to maintain that I am in good health. Not malnourished or diseased. Clean, nutrient rich blood. My blood needs to be an Ovaltine shake mixed with the laughter of babies. Maybe a touch of unicorn horn.

Next, we have the every pleasant pelvic exam PLUS sonic dildo (ultrasound wand). At this point, my examiner furrows her brow a bit and concernedly starts prodding my lower abdomen from the inside and outside at the same time. Such a creepy feeling. Upon insertion of the sonic dildo it's revealed that I have a fat-ass cyst on my left ovary. Not to worry. They're actually quite common and the blood tests will reveal if the cyst is estrogen-producing and cancerous or just being a moody bitch. Ovaries are like that. Finally, I obediently hop off the examining table, get my height and weight measured, and pee in a tiny plastic cup. The secretary at the front desk schedules a follow-up exam a week later to check on that cyst. Doesn't that sound sexy? Hey baby, let me check out that cyst.

One week later, my cyst was still there. Even worse, my urine tested positive for motherfucking opiates. I barely drink, let alone shoot heroin so that was a bit of a shock. Turns out, that myth about poppy seeds is true. Beware the Everything Bagel. after I almost cried they told me I would have a follow-up exam in a week to see if I could stay away from the crack (poppy seeds) and if the cyst went away. This morning I found out the cyst was still there! Three weeks later! I also left a fresh sample of my narcotic-free (hopefully) piss. Fingers crossed! I'm feeling so defeated