My Egg Freezing Process: What's Oprah Got To Do With It?
A few years ago I fell on my ass while skiing. It hurt pretty badly at the time, but then it just never got better. I eventually had to go to a Sports Medicine doctor to get a shot of cortisone directly into my tailbone, and I go back for a booster about once a year, What does this have to do with my fertility? Nothing, I thought. But apparently I was wrong.
My sports medicine doctor is a nice Orthodox Jewish man. He wears a yarmulke. Which totally doesn’t make it awkward when I have to drop my pants and let him poke a giant needle in the top of my butt crack. Despite my now vast experience with needles, I am still terrified of the one that goes in my tailbone because it hurts like hell. Usually my Nice Jewish Doctor tries to distract me by talking about Nice Jewish things, like how my dad is from Israel, and how it’s a shame I never had a bat mitzvah, and the usually obscure Jewish holiday that’s going on that particular day.
But on this particular day, 3 months after I’ve frozen my eggs, it’s an entirely new topic. I drop my pants, get up on the table and try to act like I’m totally cool with him poking the top of my crack. He gives me small shot that’s supposed to make the big shot less painful. And as I’m recovering from that he asks, casually, “So, how are your marriage prospects?”
Normally that kind of question would make me clench my butt in anger, but this time, I have an answer! This is what I spent all that money for!
“Doc, don’t worry, I got it covered. I froze my eggs.”
He sighs. “Now why wouldn’t you just go ahead and have kids?”
I give him a shorter version of the same five reasons I give everyone else.
He sighs again and puts a band-aid on my crack. “You can get up now.”