Opinion

Biology

February 12th, 2010

I am not strikingly handsome or a member of Mensa. I will never set a world record or make a scientific breakthrough. I’m not special, and except to me, my wife isn’t either. A baby isn’t any more likely to be extraordinary because the two of us made it. So, is biology important at all?

In many ways, no, biology doesn’t matter. I’m confident I would love a child that’s mine, regardless of their DNA. That’s not the whole story though. Biology isn’t everything, but then again, it’s not nothing. There are definite advantages to creating a baby with your own genetics, both practical and emotional.

Having a child is scary. When you are considering jumping off that precipice, biology at least feels like something you can cling to in a sea of lurking unknown. I can’t know someone else’s medical and family history, proclivities, talents, weaknesses, and afflictions as well as my own. And, while I know my wife less well than myself, you know, we’re pretty tight. There is an element of becoming a parent that’s a gamble, but there is comfort in rolling your own dice.

You don’t have to qualify to have a child of your own. No interviews, social workers, reference letters, lawyers, counsellors, mandatory classes, support groups, criminal record checks, or doctor’s reports. You can argue that the process of qualifying to be a parent is both a good, and in the case of adoption, a necessary thing. I would agree, but the fact of the matter is, it is stressful to be examined with such intensity, and then to put yourself up for scrutiny by mothers, boyfriends, families, and government agencies.

When the woman you love tells you she doesn’t just want to have a baby, she wants to have your baby, that’s visceral. The desire to see your lover’s face reflected in your child is primal. Biology has gravity, there is a pull to it.

DNA, of course, does have concrete influences. Our kid has about a 75% chance of having brown hair and eyes. Who cares? Not us, but that’s not my point. My child would inherit some of my traits, and it is nice to think that they might benefit from some of my better ones. Maybe procreation is the ultimate act of narcissism, I don’t know, but I get the attraction. Biology isn’t everything, but it’s not nothing.

Next week something other than baby stuff I think. I’m trying to write a speech about Empathy for a Toastmasters competition. I’m struggling to find some way to lighten it up a little, the premise is that I could have easily been a killer. Oh, I know right, the laughs keep on coming.

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Autism Diagnosis

February 1st, 2010

My sister wrote an article about diagnosing autism. I would recommend the read. It’s great, and maybe important.

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iPad

January 29th, 2010

I’m a geek. I love technology and design, and an electronic book reader sounds like a cool idea. Here’s the thing though.

Revolutionary Paper and Ink Technology. Read in the tub! Read by direct and blinding sunlight. Read by candlelight.

Unlimited Battery Life. No car adapter, no plug-ins, no power requirements at all.

Sustainable. Made with 100% non-toxic renewable materials. Completely recyclable.

Portable. Fits in your carry-on, and no pesky security checks.

Affordable. Leave it sitting on your beach towel while you swim. Forget it at the hotel, on the bus, or lend it to a friend and never get it back. Good for any budget.

Almost indestructible. Impervious to sand and dust. No ports, components, or screens to clog or malfunction. Leave it in a hot car. Bend it in half. Run over it with your car. Throw it at the pavement with all your strength.

Lifetime Upgrades! You can’t find a floppy drive to open a WordPerfect file from twenty years ago, and if you do, software will fail to open the file, or render it unreadable. Our revolutionary technology opens after hundreds of years just as easily as day one.

Books. The oldest, greatest thing!

The geek in me is always tempted by new technology, but eBooks have so many inherent flaws. In many important ways, they are entirely inferior to a $2.50 dog eared paperback.

On the other hand, my sister is giddy with excitement because this $500 technology will significantly improve the life of my autistic nephew. Other touch screen technology developed specifically to assist autistic kids with communicating run upwards of $10,000. She says this $200 app and an iPad beat them all.

Soldier stories, movies, and technology reviews!? I’ll eventually get back to obsessing over fertility, adoption, and kids, for those interested in such things.

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An Infertility Love Letter

January 7th, 2010

ivf_heartI’ve been surprised to learn that everyone has fertility issues, or has a connection to someone who does. For my wife and I, last year was dominated by a pursuit of pregnancy. I thought I would start this new year by sharing some observations about that.

We decided to be open about what we were doing and how it was going. That’s been a positive thing for us. This process is difficult enough without having to maintain a double life, but even if you choose not to talk to family or friends, try a professional. We both went to counseling, and I’d recommend the process. Infertility generates anger and heartache in significant quantities. Talk to someone, it helps.

You can do everything right, and still not win. That’s a tough pill to swallow but that doesn’t make it any less true. Do what you can, and let go of what you can’t control, which is almost everything.

A positive attitude all of the time is not required. If wishing was what it took, we’d all be pregnant. It’s okay to feel angry, frustrated and hopeless. Stop beating yourself up over it.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Your situation is worse than some, but better than most. Self pity is a comfortable place to wallow, for awhile, but don’t settle in.

You are not what people have in mind when they plan (or don’t plan) to get pregnant. No one is getting pregnant to spite you. I’m sure that’s what if feels like, but it’s not true. And they are not trying to tell you in a way that upsets you. I’m sure it feels like that too, but people don’t like to keep secrets from their loved ones, and it’s tough to know what the right words are.

We had a “State of the Union” meeting with our fertility doctor. My perception of our conversation varies significantly from my wife’s.

I heard the doctor say:

“It could be, that despite having plenty of good news along the way, that we have simply been unlucky, but we must also reconsider other possibilities. I’ve never been thrilled with the thickness of your endometrium (uterine lining) and my gut feel is that may be a contributing factor.”

Michelle heard:

“This is your fault. You have substandard equipment. You have let us all down. In summary, you suck.”

Faulting yourself because the lining in one of your organs is a few millimeters too thin, or a funny shape, or missing all together, makes no sense. You have freckles, or straight hair, or your second toe is longer than your big toe. These are not things you can attribute blame to. They simply are. You can fit that into whichever philosophies you hold. It may be random chance, fate, karma, predetermination, or the will of God. No matter which is true, there’s not much you can do about it. This is not your fault.

I’ve read many accounts of people that are upset that someone else got pregnant “easily”. This someone just got married, or has only been trying for a year, or hasn’t spent as much money on treatments, or has had fewer procedures. Measuring the relative worthiness of other people’s pregnancies implies that happiness has a price and that your pain, determination, or hope will eventually foot the bill, but you know life doesn’t work that way.

Life’s not fair. Good people die, the rich and famous are rarely deserving, and teenagers get pregnant just by looking at each other. It’s great to rage against the unfairness of it all, but it’s like screaming at a tornado, it feels good, but it doesn’t change anything. Of course it’s not fair, get over it. I don’t say that to trivialize your hurt, but simply because I see no alternative.

Your problems with infertility may end with what you desire, a baby, or this may become one of the major tragedies of your life, but not everyone who experiences a tragedy is made a victim by it. Seek counsel, tell it, write it, paint it, howl it at the moon if that helps. This need not be a fatal blow.

bruises
We men are the supporting cast in this drama. Women take the lead, along with the burdens of that role. I am sure there are other men writing about this somewhere, although we must be a rare breed because I haven’t stumbled upon any of them. So, I find myself in a position I’ve grown accustomed to from my family life, the lone male in a room full of women. I know to resist giving suggestions and advise, but I’m terrible at heeding my own counsel. My intent was not to upset anyone, of either sex, but if I did, I’m sorry, remember, I’m just a dumb boy.

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Vasectomy

November 13th, 2009

I have been asked to share my perspective on vasectomies, and not simply because I have had two of them. I also got an infection following the second one, which made for a funny story, but I narrowly averted loosing one of my testicles. Then my wife and I changed our minds, and decided to have kids, so to secure my sperm a doctor extracted it with a needle. I have lengthy and unique experience in the area, is my point.

My road to a vasectomy started just like everyone else’s, with sex. “The Pill” reduced my wife’s libido to a point where birth control became superfluous, so we eliminated those, and our haphazard use of condoms felt like gambling. The list of solutions to avoid pregnancy is not long. Abstinence is not on our list, and the rhythm method works really well as long as you are comfortable having up to eight children. That left surgical options, and quite simply, those are less complicated for men, with fewer risks. So, I decided to get a vasectomy.

It’s a simple procedure. I don’t want to be flippant about this, but if you are able to be clinical, there’s not much to it. A local anesthetic and about twenty minutes in a doctor’s office. It takes longer to change the oil in my car.

Here’s the rub; low risk, is not no risk. In a minority of cases problems develop. Infection, inflammation, and chronic pain are all potential consequences. Not to mention that men with vasectomies have been known to father unexpected babies. However, in the majority of the cases, once you’ve calmed down from having someone cut open your scrotum, the only result is tenderness for a few days, and of course, sterility.

It seemed to work just like that for me, at first. More than a year after the operation I developed a complication. I’ll avoid medical terminology, what am I a doctor? The only detail that is relevant to my story is that sex became uncomfortable, or rather, I was unable to perform my “big finish” without some accompanying pain. Unless you are into some pretty specific fetishes, testicular pain during ejaculation is not desirable, so I was intent on getting that fixed.

The remedy was to cut out the old vasectomy and do another one. This was a more involved operation requiring general anesthetic, still low risk, but once again I won the “kicked in the nuts” lottery. I developed a serious infection following the surgery that put me in the hospital with a fever and very specific swelling. I made it to the other side of that sterile, without pain, and thankfully, with everything still in place.

forrestThen I decided I wanted to have children. Which I can’t adequately account for, but that’s what happened. A friend recently asked me about my inexplicable change of heart. “Well,” I said, “no one has ever accused me of being indecisive.” In whichever direction I’m going, I’m running, like Forrest Gump.

My road to sterility was definitely more harrowing than most, but I’m not unique in wanting to change paths. Vasectomies are reversible, with a good success rate, but it is not something I looked into. As you might imagine my internal debate about further surgery anywhere near my entertainment equipment went something like this, “Not a fucking chance.”

Instead, I elected to have a needle inserted into my scrotum to extract sperm from the source, which I know doesn’t sound any better. My wife and I agreed to try In Vitro Fertilization (IVF), for which the doctors need sperm, and more than a plastic cup and happy thoughts were required for me to participate. I’ve written about this elsewhere, I almost passed out, but other than that, it went fine.

To the poor guys who have been cringing since paragraph one; I’m done talking about terrible things that can happen to your balls. I have a bunch of sperm frozen, awaiting the chance to unleash my progeny on the world, and my reproductive equipment can go back to being entirely recreational, which was the point when I started this whole debacle. All’s well that ends well.

Would I have the vasectomy again? Probably. It was the right decision at the time. If I had all the above information in advance, or had an inkling I was going to change my mind, clearly I would have made better decisions, but you can say that about anything.

Bad luck magnified an error in judgement, twice, but hell, it’s a risk every time you get out of bed, and sometimes you get the short straw. Thankfully, I’m not a typical example. My only advise is to consider your options, perhaps more carefully than I, then pick a direction, and start running.

This article was written after prodding by Angie, one of the ladies at ivfdiaries.com, who asked me to write about my experiences, and opinion, on vasectomies.

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Official Soft Drink Of The Olympics

November 6th, 2009

torchThe Olympic flame landed on Canadian soil this week to pomp and ceremony in Victoria. The event was the narrow edge of the wedge; jubilant crowds, protesters, security, advertising, politicians, speeches, and sponsors. In the shadow of that behemoth is the occasional athlete, a human beings that can do amazing things.

Girls dressed in red and white handed out pennant flags to wave. Like most people, upon discovering it was really a Coca-Cola ad, made to look like a Canadian flag, I held it limply at my side.

Activists at the front of the crowd shouted. I have no idea what they said. Those assembled responded in true Canadian fashion, with head wagging and stern looks.

People made speeches. They spoke of athleticism, nationalism, cooperation, inspiration, humanity, peace, children, dreams, and they said, “Welcome.” They took far too long doing it.

Canada welcomes the world. That was the underlying theme, and one I can get behind. Despite my cynicism, it was a cool thing to watch. I hope the Olympics goes smoothly and everyone has fun, with one exception.

They didn’t even use the right red, it was Coke red. It is my hope that any Coke advertisement made to even faintly resemble the Canadian flag is ripped from its moorings, toppled, wrecked, ruined, destroyed. The Coca-Cola Company can fuck right off, eh.

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A Dash Of Judgement

October 16th, 2009

A boy and his mother walk by my seat on the patio, and he has the biggest kicking and screaming fit I have ever seen. It is epic. The boy is too big for her to physically drag home, although she tries. He yells, and stomps, and sends his rubber boot flying with a poorly aimed kick at his mother, although he definitely lands a few shots. You can hear his high pitched screams for at least a block. This entire episode goes on for 10 minutes, for a crowd of 20 people.

When I leave, I walk by and ask if she needs help. I had not seen anyone do that, and knowing the challenges my sister faces, I thought maybe the offer might be nice. Truthfully, it is curiosity not gallantry.

The oldest of my sister’s three children, was a typical little boy, but by the time their youngest was born, my sister had confirmed the source of his emerging quirks. She told me about a hat she saw on another boy that she considered getting for her son, which read, “I’m not misbehaving. I have autism.”

My nephew is a sweet little boy, who wants very much for me to play with him, and who smiles a mile wide when I do. He has challenges though, so life can be tough on him. When he cries, it pierces your heart. Sometimes, my sister has difficult days, her son does too, often it’s the same day.

When I reach this woman, she is kneeling on the sidewalk, while the kid catches his breath for another shrieking episode. She looks up to speak to me, and after all of that, in front of a sea of people, she is gracious, and gentle, and completely composed. She is magnificent, and it makes me think of my sister. Everyone’s life is harder than it looks, to handle it with strength, and a bit of grace, is an exquisite feat of character.

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Universal Health Care

September 14th, 2009

People come here from the U.S. to our fertility clinic. The clinic and the staff are excellent, but primarily it is the cost that brings people here. In many cases it is cheaper for couples to spend money on meals, hotels, and travel to come to Victoria for IVF treatments than it is to pay for it in the United States. That is unfortunate.

universal_health_care

Dear neighbours1 to the South:

Universal Health Care is an idea that most developed nations have adopted, and we love it, honestly. It’s not perfect, but if you get sick here, you will be taken care of, which we consider our collective right. You may come to see it that way too.

Don’t let insurance lobbyist scare you by shouting “Socialism.” Your government gave billions to bail out auto companies. It is too late to label government involvement in the economy as evil. That ship sailed a long time ago. You should at least get something for your money.

Most of you want to see changes in your health care. It seems like you have a big battle ahead of you. I hope you win. You deserve it. Until then, come up to visit Canada for your fertility treatments. We’d love to have you.

Good Luck,
Dirk

P.S.

I almost hate to mention it, but the Metric system, seriously, it’s here to stay. Every nation except Burma, Liberia, and the United States use it. That’s embarrassing.

In summary, Universal Health Care, it’s a good thing, and the Metric System, not a passing fad.

Resources

Footnotes

  1. Yes, that’s how we spell it. We like to throw useless u’s into the middle or words. I don’t get it either. []
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I May Be Wrong

September 4th, 2009

Krusty the Clown shruggingWe should get a manual for life, don’t you think?1 I’m making it up as I go, and I’m getting some wrong.

My sister and I upset each other over a discussion about television. I mentioned that I would like to eliminate TV, which inspired her to write an opinion about why that is unnecessary. She made some good points, but was uncharacteristically harsh, so my response was also barbed. We knew we had been mean spirited, had a nice discussion over the phone, and cleared it all up, the end.

That silly argument with my sister made me think, however, that I need a disclaimer. I post things here that I enjoy writing. I am (usually) not going out of my way to piss you off, but it is bound to happen from time to time. It is difficult to make an argument without putting too sharp a point on it.

Many people I don’t know now read this site, and inevitably I will disagree with some of them. It happened recently, and I did not handled it appropriately, so I thought it would be more productive to make things clear. I welcome a difference of opinion, and if you would like to express one, please do, but lets be civil about it. No name calling, no YELLING!!!, and take the time to string together sentences that make sense. I will do the same.

Should all of that fail, and something I have written upsets you, keep in mind, I don’t know what the hell I am doing, I may be wrong, I am often an asshole, and I’m sorry on all counts. These are only my opinions, and they have no more validity than yours. No hard feelings.

Footnotes

  1. I could rewrite this line as the lead in for a religious recruiting video called ‘The Book’ []
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Heckler

July 29th, 2009

bill murray you suckI lost my innocence last week. A person I don’t know went out of their way to tell me I sucked. I got my first heckler.

It was inevitable, there is one in very crowd, and the internet is certainly that. The guy who’s soul contribution is, “You suck.”

My heckler commented on this article, in which I tell the story of how our first IVF Egg Retrieval went wrong because of a mistake I made, and what a terrible experience that was. In four poorly written sentences he claims that it is the time I spend writing this website which is the root cause of my error.  Then, in conclusion, he calls me a girl for crying.

I began to explain the weakness of his argument, and I wrote some mean spirited quips picking on his poor grammar and excessive use of ALL CAPS and exclamation points, but I deleted it all. I decided to take the high ground. Then, I realized there is no fun in that for me, so I wrote my own four sentences.

The reason you think real men do not cry is because your father was emotionally detached. He didn’t want you, so he never said, “I love you.” Your feelings of inadequacy, and general tendency towards behaving like an ass, may stem from that, as any decent therapist can explain to you. Now run along, the grown ups are talking.

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An Inconvenient Talk

May 26th, 2009

An interesting article in The Walrus about The Coming Oil Crisis.

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Picasso is a fan of chocolate milk

April 28th, 2009

picasso_3musiciansI have a tendency to be a cynical asshole. I admit that. I still think this is a valid question. Why are half a million people on Facebook fans of chocolate milk?

The site suggests that I too might like to become a fan of chocolate milk. I stare blankly at the screen. I must be missing something. Perhaps there are recipes, or bikini clad girls wrestling in it, or a chocolate milk addiction support group, but there are none of those things. There are just half a million people that clicked on a button to say they like chocolate milk.

Things like this make me feel disconnected, from everything. I feel like I am missing some key human ingredient. Half a million people are in on a joke that I would not understand even if it was explained to me. It’s a lonely feeling when you can’t relate to what you see around you.

My angst may be rooted in my tendency to be a cynical asshole. Perhaps if I viewed it from a different angle it will look fun and frivolous instead of weird. So I stare at the screen like its a Picasso painting, trying to make sense of it, or see some joy in it, and failing on both counts.

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