After I took my test yesterday I was told to "Walk it down the the half door and ring the bell." The man that came out saw my Dodgers lanyard and started talking baseball with me, how close the Dodgers-Cardinals series had been so far and my thoughts on the pitching lineup to finish the series. I continued to hold my bodily fluids in my hand, feeling the awkward tiny amount of warmness against the container and trying my best to ignore the fact that I could carry on a sports conversation with another guy with such ease, considering he knew what I just did and held in my hands the evidence of the act. He apologized about the delay and told me it might not be until early next week when I would get the results. I told him that was fine, only imagining that employees don't put in a lot of overtime to stay late and open new containers of strange mens legacies.
Today I received a call to let me know the results of my test. Under promise and over deliver, nice.
I figured they would simply tell me if I had swimmers that were alive upon exit or dead, and that would be it. The very nice lady told me I should get something to write down the results. As she started to tell me the results I felt I should stop her and get to know her a little better, offer maybe coffee or something to get to know each other before we speak of such a serious, personal and sexual topic. Then I started to get self-conscious, wondering as they see so many sperm samples, if they had a little employee view able only trophy case for the most lively sperm, and then a case of shame, where most likely my empty container with my initials on it would sit, proud to proclaim they had came, not saw, and definitely not conquered.
Here is what she said:
The normal volume of manness is 1.5 milliliters, and I came in at a very, very conservative 0.5 milliliters. I guess my size 12 shoes have absolutely no correlation to this measurement.
The concentration of sperm in a normal man (who is this guy?) is at least 15 million little spermies. I came in at a ambitious 309.1 million. Quality, not quantity I tell myself.
The motility, which defines how many of that 309 millions (holy shit, isn't that like the American population number? Now I am imagining every American as one of my spermies) are alive and moving. The normal guy is 40% or better. I came in at 58%.
Agglutination defines how well they stick together, and none to minor is normal. I had none to minor.
Then there is forward progressive motility, which I pointed out sounds redundant. She agreed and said it measures how fast they swim. You don't want them to be too fast, because the idiots will bounce right off the egg and wake up on the neighbors couch
the next morning with the cops standing over them . Normal is 2 and mine were at 2.5. So not too crazy and they are also not too slow to just die a lazy lazy utero death.
Morphology shows what percent of them are deformed. 4% non-deformed is normal, I came in around 3%. I asked her to clarify how are they deformed, and she said they can be misshapen and not be able to penetrate the egg. I blame this category on my Hartsock huge head.
The next thing was to look for Round Cells that could be stained, which could mean some type of bacterial infection or immature sperm. I did have some of these that would need to be looked at closer tomorrow, but they wanted me to take some antibiotics for 2 weeks and take another test to see if it makes a difference. She noted that even with stained round cells, it shouldn't be enough on its own to prevent conception.
I rarely get sick and brag that I take very lax the amount of soap I use as I believe bacteria is good for me. Well now I feel a little like an asshole.
I haven't taken antibiotics in years, wanting to build up my own strong immune system, but now, even though I feel perfect, I will start them.