December 5, 2004

Infertile couples in Pennsylvania seek donor eggs, not just from any ordinary donors, but from the so-called brainy people of the University of Pennsylvania; one more interesting facet of American life

IF you’re a student of University of Pennsylvania — better known as U-Penn — and are a woman, rejoice. You’re wanted, provided you’re pretty, brainy, very tall and white. Oops! Actually, it’s your eggs that are in demand.

“Intellectual rigour and a practical outlook,” is U-Penn’s coat of arms and its students are well grounded in this credo, so let’s move on ...

Picking up The Daily Pennsylvanian, the college newspaper of the ‘nation’s oldest university’ founded by Benjamin Franklin, the wise man who co-wrote the Declaration of Independence and the American Constitution, the ‘Wanted’ column on page 10 of the classified ads was a zinger.

“Infertile couple seeks anonymous egg donor. We prefer a Jewish woman with: hazel/ blue eyes, brown wavy/ straight hair, 5’2”- 4”, weight 105- 110 range; humour; coordinated; good mental/physical health/family as well; generous financial compensation offered. Please call at ...”

The second ad offered $6,000 to $15,000 to egg donors from Jewish, Asian, East Indian U-Penn students.

Raising the stakes even higher was the third ad posted by an Ivy league couple seeking an egg donor studying at U-Penn, age 21-32 years, healthy, athletic, very pretty, 5’7” - 5’10.5”, outgoing, sense of humour preferred. English, Irish, German, Scandinavian, or Eastern European heritage preferred. The ‘compensation’ offered was from $15,000 to $25,000.

You’ve probably guessed it by now: Women over the age of 27 and with a C average grade point are a straight no-no. Their eggs are simply not wanted. The minimum qualification is a B college grade point average and an age bracket between 18-26.

And don’t forget that parentage; race; ethnicity; skin tone; height; weight; hair and eyes colour; hair texture and hobbies — in short, your DNA is what determines if you can meet the qualifications as an egg donor and make big bucks.

What does this tell us? Let me second-guess: first that infertile couples around Philadelphia want to have kids. Second, the discerning and those with deep pockets want the egg donor be a student of U-Penn because they are looking for a made-to-order baby! Hey, dullards don’t exactly make it to this Ivy League school; only nerds inhabit Penn.

Ranking among America’s top 10 universities, U-Penn’s highly selective admissions criteria is a carryover of the spirit of its founder, Benjamin Franklin, the man who brought: entrepreneurship, innovation, invention, outreach, and a pragmatic love of knowledge. ‘Franklin’s practical outlook has remained a driving force in the university’s development.’

But there’s a third reason that one must not discount: The ‘couple’ advertising for an egg donor need not be man and woman. It can be two men or two women in a gay or lesbian relationship. See, what I mean.

America is a Petri dish of people with different sexual orientation who want to live like the rest, get married, work, have families, do laundry, grocery shop, laugh, cry, pay taxes, get angry, have prejudices, vote, plan and dream like everyone else. Never you mind, if they happen to be gay.

Dale, 23, and Chris, 37, Dale’s partner of six years, are gay fathers, “basking in the joy — and embracing the responsibility — of new parenthood.” Their ‘biological’ son Seth is one month old. Dale and Chris each gave their sperms to fertilize the eggs, donated by a student, the embryos — three altogether — were then transferred into the surrogate mother, a 26-year-old woman, who gave birth to Seth.

Dale and Chris are a part of the ‘gayby boom’ (rhyming with baby boom) a surge in the number of gay and lesbians becoming parents through reproductive technology. According to the 2000 Census, there are more than 600,000 gay couples living together in the US. About 60,000 male couples and nearly 96,000 female couples have at least one child under 18 at home.

Walking around historic Philadelphia, home to picturesque U-Penn campus amidst a dynamic city that hosts the Liberty Bell, whose chime in 1776 ‘changed the world ... summoning citizens to hear the first public reading of the Declaration of Independence’, I found something oddly amiss.

There were no children, no babies to be seen anywhere. While the white population is dwindling, demographers predict America will be overtaken by non-whites, mostly Hispanics, already one in seven.

To tell you the truth, at U-Penn, I mostly saw Asians — Chinese origin and Indians. It was diwali that day, so a lot of halla gulla among groups of young men and women from India was going on.

At the train station, I met a newly arrived Indian from Mumbai. “I am doing micro-imaging and genetic research in breast cancer,” he said as we exchanged thoughts on working and living in the US. “I tinker with the latest technology that I cannot ever dream of seeing in India ... this is a great place to learn and research and advance ... one day, we will be able to catch the bad genes in time that cause breast cancer.”

Ajit looked happy and all set to conquer the world of cancer. Good luck to him!

Ironically, as I settled down in the train to read the Philadelphia Inquirer, bang in the middle was the lead story chronicling a woman’s battle against breast cancer. “On Monday, I was back at the Rowan for my regular chemo treatment — my 10th in a series that may well last for months ... Chemotherapy can take a long time ... It’s my best shot now at staying alive,” wrote Fawn Vrazo, the health reporter for the Inquirer, tracking pharmaceutical industry trends and issues since decades.

There are nearly 10 million Americans who have had cancer and are still alive to talk about it, she wrote. This year, about 1.3 million more will join the cancer ranks.

Sadly for Vrazo, Ajit’s discovery (whenever it arrives) is late by many years. “I’m no longer searching or hoping for a cure. Instead, I’m on a quest for treatments that will slow my cancer to something I can live with for some time, however long that is.

“At this point, I’d be willing to try even the most experimental and gruelling treatments if they would buy me more time with my two children, and give them more time to have a mother.”

Vrazo’s cancer has returned three times, most recently in August, “when scans showed new tumours in my chest and bones”. She was 46, when cancer struck. It was 12 years ago. She is getting treatment at the U-Penn Rena Rowan Breast Centre, considered one of the top cancer hospitals in America.

Autumn has almost passed, still the lovely leaves, though yellowing, are clinging to the trees, presenting a breathless moving pantomime of colour and light and hope as my train touches quaint towns like Bryn Mawr, where the ageless stone and slate of the girls’ university named after the town stands supreme.

Sitting beside two pretty high school teens, I am told by them that they live in Bryn Mawr. So will they be going to U-Penn once school is done? Both look blank. There’s an awkward pause and then one of them says: “We don’t know where Penn is.” Looking at my amazed expression, the second hastens to add, “Actually, my mom knows where University of Pennsylvania is.” As they alight at the station, momentarily, I happen to glance at the huge advertisement panel right in front of me. It’s a U-Penn ad with a heading ‘Do you suffer from depression?’

The body of the text invites patients suffering from depression and on medicine that is doing no good for them to volunteer for their research project that involves “Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS)” treatment, assuring them that the “non-invasive magnetic device” is meant to help them shake off depression.

Soaked in U-Penn spirit, I leave Philadelphia with vibes of awe. Who wouldn’t?

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