As I count down the days to my testicular sperm extraction (TESE) on Monday, I thought I’d share some more of the reality around what happens during the build up. This week brought a trip to an NHS hospital for my pre-op appointment, and let’s just say, it wasn’t short on awkwardness, or even unexpected banter.
A long waiting list
After being on the NHS referral waiting list for some 18 months, I received a letter back in November 2024 letting me know that my TESE was scheduled for the end of January 2025. The male fertility waiting lists are long, so be prepared for this. This was a scary but also exciting time. I would finally have the surgery and find out once and for all whether I can have my own biological children. As of the time of me writing this, I still don’t know, although I am told that due to my diagnosis of CBAVD, my odds are reasonably good.
Pre-operative appointments
The first appointment I had was a few weeks ago in early January. I had to have a blood test and a few other checks with a pre-assessment nurse. It was very straightforward, but be warned, they are not able to answer any questions about the surgery itself. I’ll discuss my experience with communicating my concerns around the surgery with the NHS in a separate blog, but its worth lightly touching on the fact that it was difficult, a times, to get answers when I needed them.
That said, the appointment went well and all my bloods came back okay. A few days ago, I received a call from the fertility lab that is connected with the hospital and I was informed that I would need to sign some consent forms to ensure that the NHS can legally freeze and store my sperm. More on this later. The appointment was scheduled for 9am on Thursday, so I booked the morning off work and prepared myself for the mountain of consent forms.
Arrival at the hospital
At 9am sharp, I arrived at the hospital’s reproductive wing and meandered around the corridors looking for the ‘reproductive lab’. As I turned the corner, I found the lab but couldn’t help but notice the queue of 6 or 7 other young men.
“Oh, crikey, there a queue?” a later arrival says.
“Yep, they’re not letting us in until 9” one replies.
I must admit, I was pretty confused that there was a queue. I was here to sign forms and surely all these men aren’t having an op next week? Then I considered briefly that it was a reproductive medicine lab, so maybe they’re here for other reasons. But surely not? If you’ve read my other blogs in this series, you’ll know about my awkward semen analysis situation at a private fertility clinic. That ended up being nothing compared to this situation!
At just after 9am, all of us were herded through the door and into a small waiting area with chairs aligned in a U shape. Everywhere you look on the walls, there’s mention of sperm, semen and collection procedures. Ah… crikey. I’ve landed in the semen collection zone. Subtlety? Not on the menu.
Talk about lack of discretion…
A latecomer arrives and the nurse (who by the way is sitting at a desk quite brazenly in the open) simply says “you here for semen?”. I quickly realise that discretion does not exist in these parts. I’m certain I am in the wrong place and that soon this nurse is going to demand a sample from me! You know when you’re in a place where you don’t think you’re supposed to be, but you’re kind of too far in at this point? That’s how I felt.
Then came the real highlight of the day. The nurse stepped away from her desk, sauntered over and cheerfully said, “Right gents, has anyone brought their sample with them?” One guy, looking absolutely mortified, sheepishly raised his hand. The rest of us tried (and failed) to hide our smirks. It felt like we’d all just been initiated into the most awkward secret club ever. There’s a kind of cruel irony that he probably thought doing it at home would save him the embarrassment! No such luck. The room was intimately small and as she ushered him over to the ‘sperm collection window’, where a colleague was waiting to receive the sperm, I started noticing that another nurse was now handing out consent forms.
The consent forms were exhaustive
I was handed a clipboard and some consent forms. Maybe I’m not doing it justice as there were a lot of pages! Plenty of reading to distract me from what was going on around me!
As the minutes ticked by, and the room began to empty, the atmosphere grew less tense. Sitting next to another guy who clearly shared my sense of humour, I couldn’t help but laugh when he said, “Wonder if they’ll offer a helping hand, haha!” It was such a daft, perfectly timed comment that you couldn’t help but break the tension with a laugh. In situations like these, sometimes a bit of banter between guys is exactly what’s needed.
A weird bonding experience?
To my amazement, this situation played out exactly as my brain had been imagining! One by one, the men went and did their business. The layout of this room absolutely didn’t help. The infamous “wank room” was in full view of the waiting area, so you got a front-row seat to the whole process: man goes in empty-handed, man comes out with a pot. No prizes for guessing what happened in between.
It’s a sort of weird situation. Everyone (apart from me!) was there for the same reason, so it’s a sort of weird common bond amongst men. “Don’t make eye contact, don’t make eye contact!”, you repeat in your head as the next man exits from the collection room.
Getting to my turn
So why did I have to wait? Largely because each man was there to have his sperm frozen, and part of that process involved speaking to a specialist about consent forms. I am also hoping to have my sperm frozen, but of course mine will be as a result of surgical extraction. I’ve never been more jealous of men who can ejaculate their sperm!
I was finally called into the specialist after around 90 minutes of waiting. He very thoughtfully went through the various consent forms. He explained that the NHS is required to obtain consent from me for sperm storage and that under their rules, you can have it stored for free for up to 10 years.
There’s plenty of stuff in there about use of the sperm and embryo for research purposes. I was also able to consent to my partner using my sperm after my death, if desired. Although I rather hope not to die! Equally if you become mentally incapacitated, there’s consent forms for that too.
Speaking to the specialist
The forms were very comprehensive and to be fair to the specialist, it was very well explained. It’s a sensitive topic and it’s always good when you feel you can speak openly about any concerns. I had the opportunity to ask him about my surgery and he did a fantastic job of explaining why a TESE will be my best bet. He was also able to reassure me that these operations are performed frequently at the hospital and that my surgeon is the top of the field.
On my way home, I couldn’t help reflecting on the experience. Sure, it was uncomfortable, but in a strange way, it was also a bit of a bonding moment amongst men. Sharing a laugh, even in a room full of strangers, was oddly reassuring. I can’t say this enough, this whole experience really humbles you and you just throw all the awkwardness out the window.
Now, with just days to go until surgery, I’m feeling a mix of nerves and, I guess, determination? This journey has had its fair share of uncomfortable moments, but it’s also been full of reminders to find lightness where you can. Here’s to embracing the awkward, laughing through the discomfort, and staying hopeful for whatever comes next.
Dealing with the anxiety and anticipation of surgery…
I feel scared about Monday, truthfully. I don’t want the pain & don’t want my balls to be cut open. Who would? It feels like it’s gonna be the final boss of ball aches. I now have the weekend to try to relax and enjoy myself before being admitted bright and early on Monday. Whether they find sperm or not is something my partner and I will have to deal with when that times comes, probably later in the day on Monday. Until then, I hope the surgery goes well. I’ll document as much as I can about my recovery as I go.
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