Read Online Avalanche by Julia Leigh - Free Book Online Page A

them?” It troubled me how invisible everything was: how would I know what they really did with my embryos? Who monitored the checks and balances? Scenarios for horror movies made themselves known. Evil lab assistant sells embryos on baby black market; evil doctor fertilizes eggs with own sperm to create own private colony of children; evil research director conducts clandestine experiments to grow babies full-term ex-uterus . . . Asit happened, in all my five subsequent egg collections I had a much better success rate with embryo development, always ending up with something that could be transferred.
    I was having trouble sleeping so in the middle of the night I walked down to the playground at the end of my street. All the ghost-children were at play. There were little boys crawling over webs of rope, little girls kicking up their heels on the swings. They sang and squabbled and thrilled at making footprints in the dirt. I told a girl I loved her outfit. “It’s not an outfit!” she said. “It’s a tiger suit!” A black-haired boy sat beside me and whispered in my ear, “Change doctors.”
    I went back to the same clinic website and found a new doctor, to be known as Dr. Nell. My GP wrote a referral. No one at the clinic asked any awkward questions as to why I was switching. On the wall of Dr. Nell’s office was a noticeboard pinned with thank-you cards and baby photos. Her manner was kind and thoughtful. We discussed my options for the next cycle. I’d do a new egg collection. She raised some “optional extras” that were available as part of the service. The first was a chromosomal testthat could be done on the embryo that would cost an additional AU$3,670 (US$3,347). It was especially helpful, she said, for women who’d had recurring miscarriages. That test needed to be booked months in advance so I didn’t opt for it. For $265 (US$242) I was also offered “assisted hatching,” whereby a lab technician would use a laser to thin the outer shell of the embryo, making it easier—supposedly—for the embryo to “hatch out” prior to implantation. Older women, I was told, have a harder “outer shell.” The procedure carried a small risk of penetrating the shell and damaging the embryo. And on top of that—if I wanted—I could try “embryo glue” for $150 (US$137); this was also supposed to aid implantation. I asked her whether there was evidence for increased chances of success with the assisted hatching and the embryo glue. They apply pigeons, to draw the vapors from the head . She said there was no clear evidence but that if I went ahead I could say I’d done all I could. “What would you do if you were in my shoes?” I asked. She said, “It’s up to you.” This time I didn’t use the glue but I did in subsequent cycles. The cost ended up being $9,675 (US$8,824) plus anesthetist and outpatient surgery fees on top.Medicare reimbursed just under $5,200 (US$4,742). I had the dread feeling that I was voluntarily participating in “cutting-edge” medicine, that I was a part of some greater experiment, a credulous and desperate older woman, and the only thing that made me think these dread thoughts might be mere anxiety, that actually I was the lucky beneficiary of years of advanced medical research, was the calm and caring manner of my doctor, who on a personal level did seem sincere in her desire to help me fall pregnant, just as she had helped all the women who had sent her those colorful cards pinned to her wall.
    One of the last conversations I had with Dr. Nell was along the following lines:
    â€”Is there anything we would do differently next cycle?
    â€”No.
    â€”If you were a crazy experimentalist and I were a willing research participant, what would you suggest?
    â€”We could try testosterone treatment for three weeks before the cycle.
    â€”Testosterone? What’s that