The men's room

Those of you who have ever been to a fertility clinic will know exactly what I am talking about - the place where you are sent to "produce your sample". They aren't places any of us tend to think about too much - and that we'd only manage to talk about with fertility friends after a glass or two...

When I was researching my first ever book about infertility some fifteen years ago, I interviewed a dozen or so couples and two of the men had been to the same clinic, with the same men's room which had clearly had quite an impact as they both told me about it in great detail during the interviews. Not about the room itself, but about the key which was attached to what they both described as a "plank of wood".  To go to the men's room you had first to collect the key, and then walk right through the clinic carrying this thing that you couldn't disguise so that it was clear to all where you were going and what for. For the same book, another man told me about being sent to the men's toilets in a local hospital to produce a sample where an old man kept coughing in the next cubicle and where the doors left his legs and head visible to anyone who happened to come in.

I was reminded of this today during a brilliant presentation at the British Infertility Counselling Associations Study Day by photographer Aaron Deemer, who has been touring the country taking photos of the men's rooms in clinics.  The idea sounds utterly bizarre, but hearing Aaron talk, you soon understand that his personal experience has led him to discover a truly unique way of getting people talking about infertility.  The photos themselves are fascinating - a selection of very different rooms;  some cold and clinical, others designed to try to look vaguely appealing but rarely succeeding.  There's one slightly sinister room with what looks like a dentist's chair surrounded by downlit spotlights, another had what Aaron described as a "fake plastic cannabis plant" plonked in the middle of a room full of chairs that doubled up as the staff conference room.  There was a room that Aaron said reminded him of his teenage bedroom with a narrow bed and patterned curtains.  One room had bars at the window, another had a phallic photo of the Eiffel Tower on the wall.

Aaron's project is called "Please Make Yourself Uncomfortable" and if you get the chance to hear Aaron talk or to see the photos, don't miss the opportunity. He manages to access something we often find difficult to talk about and to present it in such a way that it encourages discussion.

Waiting rooms

I ended up spending a lot of time last night in a hospital waiting room (with a suspected eye problem which turned out to be absolutely fine), and it made me think about the amount of time I must have spent over the years in fertility unit waiting rooms - and how different they are. Last night, there were a huge range of people in the waiting room with all kinds of different eye problems but we were stuck there together, waiting - and so, after a while, people began to smile at one another or raise eyebrows as we waited on and on, and then began to chat. I spoke to three different people who happened to be next to me over the course of many hours as we lamented our inability to be able to read due to the drops they'd put in our eyes and wondered whether we'd ever get home. It's odd in a way that the spirit of being in an unpleasant situation together very rarely makes fertility patients start talking to one another. For the most part, we even try to avoid eye contact in waiting rooms, let alone begin conversations. Is it the stigma that still somehow lingers around fertility problems? Is it the fact that we feel so emotional and often close to tears? Or perhaps it's because talking to one another might somehow make the fact that we have to be there seem even more real. It's a shame because there's a huge amount to be gained from talking to others who have the same problem and sharing experiences. Not only is it a huge relief to talk to people who genuinely understand, it also helps to normalise the experience, reminding us that we're not alone and that infertility is really a very common problem. At this point, I have to confess that in all the years I spent in the fertility clinic waiting room I only ever spoke to one person - and that was because she spoke to me first. If talking is too much - and I accept that it quite possibly is - then maybe we should try to at least give one another a smile if we catch eyes at the clinic. It's just a gesture, but sometimes the old saying about a little kindness going a long way seems very true and may make all the difference.