The 4-Hour Body_ An Uncommon Guide to Ra - Timothy Ferriss [113]
The rat balls were exposed for one hour per day for 28 days?!
In California, where I live, 30% of the population relies exclusively on cell phones for communication. I had carried a cell phone in my pocket an average of at least 12 hours a day for the last 10 years.
No more.
It didn’t hurt me to put it somewhere else, and the evidence was strong enough to warrant a trial.
Eleven weeks later, I had my first round of results.
Happy Endings
For eleven weeks, I adopted one new rule: my phone was no longer allowed to cuddle with my testicles.
Its new home was a black InCase iPod armband intended for jogging. I could strap it to the outside of my upper arm or calf, or—if headed somewhere jogger fashion wasn’t cool—I could simply turn the phone off before putting it in my pocket. In the latter case, or when running quick errands sans armband, checking messages every 30 minutes resulted in a grand total of zero problems. The front pocket of a backpack or bag also works.
I waited 11 weeks to retest for a specific reason: sperm production (spermatogenesis) takes an estimated 64 days in humans. I wanted to wait at least that long and added two weeks as an extra buffer.
I returned to the sperm bank for my deposit and testing on November 19, 2009, nervous as hell.
The anxiety wasn’t necessary. I had nearly tripled my motile sperm per ejaculate. The numbers were almost unbelievable:
Ejaculate volume: 44% increase
Motile sperm per milliliter: 100% increase
Motile sperm per ejaculate: 185% increase
I let out one of the longest exhales of my life as I looked at the lab test fax. The trend had reversed.
Can I attribute these increases to removing the cell phone and nothing else? It isn’t quite that easy. I also started cold treatments and supplemental selenium (Brazil nuts), both of which could have contributed, the latter more likely than the former. Do I care about the academic purity? No. I was more concerned with increasing sperm count than isolating variables. Even with two confounding variables, the experiment is directionally valid.
Should you wait for a scientific consensus? I don’t think so. This is a case where the current literature is strong enough, and the inconvenience minimal enough, to not wait for doctor’s orders.
It can’t hurt you, and it might get your swim team off the bench and back in the game.
If you want kids someday, consider yourself warned.
I never thought I’d visit a sperm bank.
Perhaps it was flipping a motorcycle at 90 miles per hour on Infineon Raceway.
Perhaps it was tearing my Achilles tendon in jiu-jitsu practice, then getting thrown on my head.
Maybe having my scuba mask fill with blood at 120 feet underwater in Belize?
That could have done it.
Or perhaps it was just crossing the 30-year age threshold and having friends who didn’t make it. Suicide, 9/11, accidents—bad things happen to good people.
I came to realize then: it’s really not that hard to die. And that’s when I started thinking about storing my genetic material.
Yes, my little swimmies.
In this sidebar, I’ll talk about the process, how I did it, and why it’s cheap insurance in an unpredictable world. I’ll also throw in some curious details (sexy time!) just for entertainment.
Doing the research, the pros far outweigh the cons:
1. Men are becoming progressively infertile. Go munch on some soy crisps for a mouthful of phytoestrogens, or just stick with preservatives. It’s hard to avoid testicle-unfriendly food and toxins. Talk to endocrinologists who do clinical analysis and also get your sperm count measured. It is probably less than your dad’s. Real-world Children of Men (for men) is in full effect.
2. Many medical conditions and procedures (cancer treatment, for example) can render men infertile.
3. People who “know” they don’t want kids change their