project, be able to see from the drawings what the finished buildings would be like. She hoped he would be impressed. Then he might not object - he might even
help her along the way.
On the other hand, he might blow a fuse - refuse to agree to anything that would facilitate her return to horse riding. That, she thought, would be too awful to contemplate, would lead to terrible friction between them
- something she wanted to avoid at all costs. Anyway, that wouldn't be for a while yet - she'd cross that bridge when she came to it. Must get these plans done first.
Ken was in the lift descending to the underground car park. The doctors and staff had their reserved spaces there. Stopping on the first floor, the lift picked up another passenger, Dr Turner. They hadn't spoken for a few days.
'You're late this evening, Ken, held up were you?' It was eight o'clock - he usually finished around six.
'Yes, I was in the city for a couple of hours on an appointment this afternoon ... had some catching up to do.'
'Oh, that's fine, I just thought you had an emergency or something.'
'No, no,' replied Ken, hoping to leave it at that. Out of the lift, they were about to head for their cars. Dr Turners Mercedes was in
its usual number one reserved - Ken's Honda was at the other side.
'Tell me, Ken, how's Jenny?'
'Oh, she's fine, made a remarkable recovery, no problems at all, getting stronger every day.'
'That's great, Mr Bailey is a wonderful surgeon, isn't he/'
'He certainly is,' said Ken, 'we're very lucky to have him.'
'We are indeed. Now Ken, be sure to get her to take things easy for as long as possible ... you know yourself what can happen.'
'Oh I know ... I'm doing my best.'
'Give her my regards.'
'I certainly will, thank you.'
'Okay then, I'm away Ken ... talk to you later.'
Ken watched the gleaming black Mercedes roll smoothly up the ramp and away. He soon followed.
Get her to take things easy. Ken repeated mentally Dr Turner's words. Get Jenny to take things easy! You might as well save your
breath. It would be like talking to the wall. Where she gets the energy from, nobody knows. I suppose that's just the way she is - pointless to try and change her.
He didn't tell Dr Turner who he had the appointment with in the city. Dr Lucas had said he knew Dr Turner well; they sometimes socialised together. Still, Ken trusted the doctor/patient relationship, was confident his consultations with his Endocrinologist would not reach the ears of Dr Turner.
His problem was a private matter. He would not share it with anyone except with his consultant and his wife.
Cruising along the road that led to the dual carriageway,
reflecting on his first visit to Dr Lucas, he didn't know whether to be optimistic or pessimistic - somewhere in between. The results of his previous sperm tests seemed to surprise the consultant. "They were conclusive ... nothing there to be optimistic about."
Still, he made a very good point: "They were done two years ago; things could change in two years," he suggested a new test.
"Abstain from ejaculation for five days, produce a new
sample by masturbation, ideally at the Infertility Clinic, allowing the sample to be stored immediately under optimum conditions. This, when analysed, will determine the volume and composition of semen produced, the density and quality of sperm within it. Further analyses may be made as treatment progresses."
It was all very technical. Worth trying though, thought Ken. It could be possible that his sperm may have improved in the past two years; obviously not enough - Jenny wasn't yet pregnant - but if there was any
improvement at all, perhaps with new technology and medication, there might be some hope.
He was a bit apprehensive about the whole matter, a bit worried about Jenny too. Her first day back to work. She shouldn't have gone
back so soon - wouldn't listen to him - probably jaded out now after the day, and him late home again. But she'll be glad to
help her along the way.
On the other hand, he might blow a fuse - refuse to agree to anything that would facilitate her return to horse riding. That, she thought, would be too awful to contemplate, would lead to terrible friction between them
- something she wanted to avoid at all costs. Anyway, that wouldn't be for a while yet - she'd cross that bridge when she came to it. Must get these plans done first.
Ken was in the lift descending to the underground car park. The doctors and staff had their reserved spaces there. Stopping on the first floor, the lift picked up another passenger, Dr Turner. They hadn't spoken for a few days.
'You're late this evening, Ken, held up were you?' It was eight o'clock - he usually finished around six.
'Yes, I was in the city for a couple of hours on an appointment this afternoon ... had some catching up to do.'
'Oh, that's fine, I just thought you had an emergency or something.'
'No, no,' replied Ken, hoping to leave it at that. Out of the lift, they were about to head for their cars. Dr Turners Mercedes was in
its usual number one reserved - Ken's Honda was at the other side.
'Tell me, Ken, how's Jenny?'
'Oh, she's fine, made a remarkable recovery, no problems at all, getting stronger every day.'
'That's great, Mr Bailey is a wonderful surgeon, isn't he/'
'He certainly is,' said Ken, 'we're very lucky to have him.'
'We are indeed. Now Ken, be sure to get her to take things easy for as long as possible ... you know yourself what can happen.'
'Oh I know ... I'm doing my best.'
'Give her my regards.'
'I certainly will, thank you.'
'Okay then, I'm away Ken ... talk to you later.'
Ken watched the gleaming black Mercedes roll smoothly up the ramp and away. He soon followed.
Get her to take things easy. Ken repeated mentally Dr Turner's words. Get Jenny to take things easy! You might as well save your
breath. It would be like talking to the wall. Where she gets the energy from, nobody knows. I suppose that's just the way she is - pointless to try and change her.
He didn't tell Dr Turner who he had the appointment with in the city. Dr Lucas had said he knew Dr Turner well; they sometimes socialised together. Still, Ken trusted the doctor/patient relationship, was confident his consultations with his Endocrinologist would not reach the ears of Dr Turner.
His problem was a private matter. He would not share it with anyone except with his consultant and his wife.
Cruising along the road that led to the dual carriageway,
reflecting on his first visit to Dr Lucas, he didn't know whether to be optimistic or pessimistic - somewhere in between. The results of his previous sperm tests seemed to surprise the consultant. "They were conclusive ... nothing there to be optimistic about."
Still, he made a very good point: "They were done two years ago; things could change in two years," he suggested a new test.
"Abstain from ejaculation for five days, produce a new
sample by masturbation, ideally at the Infertility Clinic, allowing the sample to be stored immediately under optimum conditions. This, when analysed, will determine the volume and composition of semen produced, the density and quality of sperm within it. Further analyses may be made as treatment progresses."
It was all very technical. Worth trying though, thought Ken. It could be possible that his sperm may have improved in the past two years; obviously not enough - Jenny wasn't yet pregnant - but if there was any
improvement at all, perhaps with new technology and medication, there might be some hope.
He was a bit apprehensive about the whole matter, a bit worried about Jenny too. Her first day back to work. She shouldn't have gone
back so soon - wouldn't listen to him - probably jaded out now after the day, and him late home again. But she'll be glad to
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