With all the recent talk of insurance woes and baby-having, I'm put in mind of an amusing incident from a month or so back. Since I'm no longer a spring chicken, I've some concerns about the actual possibility of the baby-having. To see what our limiting factors might be, Eamon and I went to a fertility specialist for a sort of preliminary consulation. We spoke of many things -- invitro, declining fertility with age, our health histories, adoption, egg freezing -- but through it all, one nagging issue weighed on my mind.
As we left the clinic, I turned to Eamon.
"The doctor. Bob Balaban."
"Oh, yeah. Dead-ringer."
Trust me, you don't want to discuss your ovaries with Bob Balaban.
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