My friend Debbie emailed today. Cornell found her a donor, too. And Debbie’s is also a dancer. This can mean only one of three things. 1) Cornell only has one very tired donor. 2) The donor egg nurses were lying around last night with a bottle of wine, fabricating a dossier for Debbie’s donor, and they were too drunk to remember they’d already used the occupation “dancer” when they’d fabricated a dossier for mine. 3) Cornell is selling Debbie some of my frozen embryos.
I find the last option the most offensive — not because that means she’d be carrying my husband’s child but because we’re not going to get a cut.