I stared at the doctor in shock. I was speechless! “Why do you look so shocked,” he asked. “You should be looking happy,” he added. He was right. I should have been jubilating that I was fertile. But, instead, I was shocked for good reasons.
When I tried to explain to Dr. Paul Quansah why I was shocked, I found that my whole body was trembling. He asked me to relax for a while before I talk. So, I sat before him, breathing heavily. To allow me sometime to calm down, he got up to attend to other issues. I began to ask myself several questions. If I was fertile, how come test ordered by the law firm I had hired indicated I was not fertile? I was confused. After a while, I decided that two hospitals couldn't be wrong.
The first hospital had said after a DNA test that I was not the biological father of Peter and Pamela and the second had said I was not fertile enough to father a child, a result that more or less confirms the DNA test at the first hospital. My conclusion therefore was that the hospital I had come to was wrong in its conclusions about my fertility.
I was still analyzing the matter when Dr. Quansah returned to his consulting room and took sat down. I decided to summarize for him why I had come to him to have a fertility treatment.
He listened to me quietly without interruption as I narrated how I caught my wife in bed with my best friend, my wife's claims later that I was not the biological father of my children, the DNA test which backed her claims and the fertility test I had done at the instance of my lawyers which showed I was not fertile enough to father a child.
“So you see, I am sure that you have got the results of the fertility test wrong,” I said in conclusion.
But, Dr. Quansah said there was no way they could have gotten the results wrong. He said it had never happened before. “I will advise that you go to another fertility centre to conduct another fertility test to verify whether we are wrong or not.” he said.
I agreed it was the way to go. I thanked him and retuned to my car. I explained to John what had taken place. He too was shocked and then agreed with me that the hospital may have gotten things wrong. He also agreed that the way to go was for me to go to another fertility centre to conduct a second fertility test. Quickly, he suggested another fertility centre. It was at the eastern end of the city. I opined that we go there immediately so he started the engine of the car and then drove away, heading for the eastern end of the city.
The name of the fertility was the St. Michael's Men's Medical Centre. We arrived there after a twenty-five minutes’ drive. I was processed at the reception by an official to see the doctor. Then I joined the queue of patients waiting to see the doctor. After about ten minutes, I got the opportunity to see the doctor on duty.
To my surprise, the doctor was a woman. A female doctor in a men's health facility! I wasted no time in telling her why I was there. She scribbled something on a piece of paper and then directed me to the laboratory. At the laboratory, the head there collected the paper, studied what was on it and then giving me a small bottle, requested for my semen.
Twice in a matter of an hour, I had to compel myself to produce semen. I did and handed it to the laboratory assistant. He then asked me to go relax in the waiting room. I did, taking a seat and grabbing a magazine through which I leafed as I waited.
But, I could not concentrate on what I was reading. My mind was on the test that was being done. What if it turned out that I was fertile after all? Did it mean that I was the biological father of Peter and Pamela? Will it mean that the first DNA test was wrong?
……………to be continued………
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