In typical Los Angeles fashion, it took me an HOUR to drive the 10 miles to my ultrasound appointment this morning.  I’ve been on Lupron for quite a while, but only on the hormonal stimulation meds for about five days now.  The whole way I experienced the now familiar stirrings and foreboding twinges in my ovaries that, if I didn’t know better, I might mistake for some sort of Lovecraftian STD.  Other than that, my side effects have mainly consisted of laughably intense mood swings and smelling really, really good to myself and others.

The doctor gave me a good ultrasounding and determined that I was progressing nicely.  My right ovary is producing more follicles than my left, as per usual.  I think Dusty (my right ovary) is the overachiever of the family, while Lefty is perhaps just more free-spirited.  It takes all types to run a village.  Of organs.

Anyway, the only really interesting thing that happened was when I went to the lab to get my blood work done.  As I was being sucked dry, I took a glance around.  Directly across from me in the hallway was a slightly cracked door.  The lights were off, but I thought I could spy maybe a sink?  The sign outside the door simply said “Specimen Collection.”  I realized that that’s probably just the bathroom where they send you for collecting urine samples.

When the phlebotomist was done with me, I gathered my things and went into the hall.  Just a few feet down were two bathrooms.  Now that’s kind of silly, I thought.  Why have a separate bathroom for “specimen collection” when you could just send people to the regular bathroom?

But then I woke up from what must have been my 9 a.m. stupor and put 2 and 2 together.

“Specimen Collection” = “Jack Off Room”

There was no one in the hall, so I eagerly peeked inside. It was just like in the movies! Small, cozy, almost intimate…There wasn’t a sink at all, actually–just a little shelf with a box of tissues on it.  And there was a very comfy-looking chair, facing directly towards a small television about two feet away.  The TV was sitting on top of some big drawers.

I stared at these drawers.  If this jack off room was really like how they portray them in movies and TV shows, I knew those drawers must have been filled with porn.  I mean, what the hell else are you gonna watch on that TV?

My mind was teeming with questions. What kind of porn would a fertility clinic provide?  Would they stick to mainstream, vanilla stuff?  Or would they try to cater to a variety of tastes and kinks?  Whose job is it to make this kind of decision?

I had to find out.  I had to know what was in those drawers.  The instant that I put my foot down inside the room, three lab techs came into the hall.  I quickly aborted the mission and left the clinic.

My next appointment is on Friday.  I’m planning on using the ol, “Oh!  Silly me!  I thought this was the bathroom!” should my stealth be compromised.  For the good of us all, I am determined to lay these questions to rest.  Until next time.

PS — For more information about Lovecraftian STDs, do yourself a favor and read this.

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