We finally got all tests done, and right in the middle of my training for the Troika Triathlon, I dropped everything (I was
swimming, running, and biking way faster than 1992...darn). Miimii and I went to Seattle to finally attempt an operation to have our own
children. This was what we'd been waiting for all year.
For a week we stayed in a Tacoma motel and drove up to Seattle for blood tests in the morning. Then we'd have Espresso and return to our motel. I'd administer injections of fertility
drugs to Miimii, and then we'd just hang out as she got sicker and sicker from
the drugs. We grew to love watching Dragnet after a while.This photo is a sonagram of Miimii's eggs shortly before the implantation. She
had 24 eggs, which was about six times the normal amount, and, if you are pro-abortion, enough for eight 3-egg baby omlettes.|
We always referred to our unborn son (we said our first would be a boy)as 'Bingo'. I even taught Miimii the Bingo song (the dog one), and we'd sing it in bed sometimes. She had a sense of humor then. I had a fake English accent for Bingo, since Miimii constantly said her child would be extremely smart, so in my usual supportive way, I mocked her. He would've been like a baby British Frasier Crane, but we had a lot of fun
| with this imaginary person whom we'd never meet. |
On July 31, 1994, I went to the hospital very early in the morning, put on my cute little hospital slippers, gown, and shower cap, covered with pretty blue flowers. As I sat there waiting in this garb, totally humiliated in my manhood, I looked at Miimii and said,"I've lost my dignity". I felt like I was late to a slumber party. Shortly after that, a nurse came in and asked us what we were there for, told us we were in the podiatry ward, and quickly whisked us out of there before the operation was afoot. I couldn't help but wonder if there was a guy on the other end of the hospital, waiting to have his foot fixed, who'd be in for a big surprise when a limping little half-Japanese child knocked on his door one day and said, in a thick British accent,"Daddy?"
I was numbed from the waist down, which, after being married almost four years, felt familiar and comfortable. The surgeons opened me up in my 'private area' and extracted sperm from me. The entire time I was conscious and listening, hoping, praying I didn't hear them say,"There are no sperm!"
Miimii was wheeled away, and somehow we ended up back at our motel, lying in our separate beds for about two days until I was able to limp
out of the room under my own power. I hobble around the streets of Seattle by myself. I was afraid I'd be arrested for shoplifting a television set under my dress, so aware was I of my odd appearance. My man parts were still packed with all kinds of
cotton and stuff and I was on heavy pain
killers. Crossing the
street was scary, but there was a bicycle shop on the other side, so I couldn't resist.