“You can get so confused that you’ll start in to race down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space, headed, I fear, toward a most useless place. The Waiting Place.”
~ Dr. Seuss
My husband’s appointment with the urologist went reasonably well (although he keeps whining about getting touched in bad places… dude, let me tell you about touching in bad places! And they didn’t involve a warm set of hands massaging my nether-regions!!!), but still has us waiting. He’s been sent for some more blood work and has to return next week for a hot date with a plastic cup (he says: I hope they have better “entertainment” than at our current clinic”) which will be sent for an (unfunded) in depth analysis. And then we wait for his appointment in May for results. We’re crossing our fingers that he can get in sooner on a cancellation appointment. May isn’t that far away, but every cycle that passes just feels like an eternity.
The good news is, all signs point to him having too much estrogen, and this is treatable. And the answer to the almighty question: “Will this positively impact my fertility?”, is yes.
My fingers are crossed that the small glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel keeps flickering.