We were asked to provide a sperm sample and where we live you do it at home and take it in. We live about 35 minutes from the hospital, where you can't get parked for love nor money. We were told a time and a day and basically to get it there in 30 minutes and keep it warm.
So the night before I lay out my clothes and husbands so we can do the deed and jump in the car, indeed the car is parked strategically so we can make a fast getaway and I have even picked out slip on shoes so I can shave a second or two off doing them up. It's been dubbed the 'drive by sperming event' by this point!
With sample tube in hand I assist husband (and can someone PLEASE invent a better way of 'catching' semen?!) and then quickly shove the test tube down my bra to keep it warm while we hop about getting dressed and into the car. The cat is of course busy being sick on the stairs but we ignore this, hop over the steaming pile and leg it to the car. In the car, hubby drives - fast - with me urging him to be careful lest we crash and I have to explain the rather curious item in my bra to a confused policeman.
He is too uncomfortable to go into the actual hospital if he can avoid it so he drops me at the entrance and I hair it in at full pelt and then realise I have no frigging idea where to go so have to run to reception to be told it's the other side of the site. I sprint the rest of the way and arrive only to be told I'll have to wait a couple of minutes while the microbiologist comes down.
I sit, with a crowd of old folks waiting to have blood taken. I'm extremely hot from the run and the hard plastic tube is pushing into my chest and I shift in my seat. An elderly lady smiles at me, I smile back 'it's always nerve racking waiting isn't it?' she asks. I smile back desperately fighting the urge to yell, 'I've got semen in my bra and I don't want to sit here waiting for it to die!'
The microbiologist arrives and is confused that I'm a woman. I tell him I'm the wife and he fills in the form and opens the hatch to collect the tube. I stick my hand down my tshirt into get it, leaning forward a bit and at this point a fire alarm goes off behind me. I pull out the tube and at the same time, pull my tshirt up and turn round, displaying my bra in all its M&S lacy finery to the assembled biddies!
Blushing I turn back and the microbiologist (who is about twelve years old BTW and is trying very hard not to show his amusement) takes the sample and says 'okay, thanks we're done here' at which point I decide I should just leave and so walk with as much dignity as I can out the department and then run back to the entrance.
I'm sure in years to come I'll tell my grandkids this and they'll think I'm barking mad.