Right before I began my IVF cycle I could hardly concentrate on anything else; my every thought centered around the upcoming treatment. That is why I was sadistically semi-happy about the major toothache I got only a couple of days before my first monitoring visit. The pain in my mouth helped distract me from all of my worries, fears and concerns about the big step that we had taken moving on to IVF. I ended up needing a root canal and was referred to a great dentist. Since it was my first visit to that particular dental office we had to go through all the pre-requisite questions about medications. At the time I was on lupron. When the doctor reviewed possible interactions we had a brief discussion about the fertility medications and I got the feeling that he was familiar with them in more than just a clinical sense. Nevertheless, we didn’t discuss it any further and we made a bit more small talk, I got the root canal and I was on my way.
Fast forward about a week and I am sitting in the lobby of my fertility clinic. As I have a bad tendency to do, I was pretending to read my magazine and covertly checking out the other people in the waiting room. I noticed a man come in with a brown paper bag with a mortified expression and assumed that he was dropping off a “sample.” My mind wandered as I began to think about how humiliating that whole process could be and once they had him take a seat and wait for his name to be called I had decided that having him wait in the large room holding “that” was pretty cruel. It took me a minute to realize that I actually recognized him and that he was in fact the dentist who had performed my root canal only a week earlier. We definitely recognized each other and when we made eye contact it was obvious that by mutual agreement we were going to pretend that we didn’t.
After that day, I callously told the embellished story to friends about this doctor holding his sperm sample in a waiting room full of people looking horrified and like he wanted to be anywhere but there. Sure, the image can evoke laughs, especially from people who think the whole process is very foreign and bizarre, but I now regret joking at his expense. Handling situations like that with humor is just fine, but furthering stereotypes and misconceptions is detrimental to everyone who is enduring infertility. I wish I had not been embarrassed in the waiting room and had taken the time to say hello and just use friendly conversation as a way to commiserate and support someone else suffering. I don’t necessarily regret the “joke” that opened up conversation about what my husband and I were going through, but I do wish that I had used it as an opportunity to educate the friends I was speaking with more about our treatment path. Through the years I have become much more open about the challenges we faced and the treatments that made it possible for us to finally have children. I truly do think that people struggling with infertility need to stick together and that our struggles are nothing to be ashamed of. I guess what I am saying is that thanks to years of infertility and situations like that with my dentist I am more empathetic and compassionate – and that is definitely a good thing!
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