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A father’s pain Episode 28 & 29

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 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 on the insistence 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 agreed 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 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 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 @ssistant. He then asked me to go relax in the waiting room. I did, taking a seat and grabbing a magazine and 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?
Eventually, the door to the waiting room opened. It was the laboratory technician. He said he had completed the test and that the result was with the doctor who was ready to see me. I immediately placed the magazine down on the table, got up and followed the man. At the door of the doctor’s consulting room, he knocked, opened and asked me to enter. Then he closed the door and returned to his laboratory, leaving me alone with the doctor.
I was tensed. It was as if a judge was about to read to me his ruling. I noticed that I was sweating.
The doctor looked up at me without a smile. My heart sunk. For me, it was indicative of the fact that the original test was right; I was infertile. I had somehow been hoping that the test would prove that I was fertile because it will likely mean that I was the biological father of Peter and Pamela. But alas! In that few seconds before she spoke, her expression was enough of an answer to me. I psyched myself up for the worse.
“Well, sir. The result indicates you are very fertile. You should have no problem fathering a child or children,” she said. Her @ssertion was like sweet music to my ears.
“Madam, you mean that I can father a child?” I asked her.
“Yes, Dr. Ofori-Mensah,” she replied.
I nearly hugged her in my delight as I whisked the results of the test from her hand.
“Thank you Dr. eh…” I stumbled. I did not know her name.
“Shirley Brobbey,” she said.
“Dr. Shirley Brobbey, I am very grateful for your @ssistance. Thank you very much”, I said, smiling. Then I walked out of her consulting room and then half walked, half ran to the car where John was waiting for me eagerly.
“John, I am fertile. I am very fertile,” I said, waving the results at him. He beamed with a smile and screamed “yes!” while punching the air.
“This first of all calls for celebration, John. Call Efe, tell her the good news and tell her to join us at the Great Amb@ssador Hotel now. Let’s go!” I said, excitedly.
On the way to the hotel, I talked about going to see my lawyers once more with the new result of my fertility test.
“I am confident that it will turn out also that the result of the DNA test was also wrong and that I am the biological father of Peter and Pamela. That will give me the joy of a life time. It is possible, John. It is possible!” I said, excitedly.
We soon arrived at the Great Amb@ssador hotel. We made our way to their restaurant where I ordered food and drinks that even six people could not consume. Efe, joined us ten minutes after we arrived. She was the one who pointed out that what I had ordered was too much. She quickly followed up to the reception to make new orders. Then she returned to the table.
We spent about an hour at the restaurant. I had never been so happy in my life. Every now and then, I will reach inside my pocket to make sure that the result of the fertility test that proved I was fertile was there; it was worth more than a $500 billion cheque to me.
When we left the restaurant, I directed John to drive to Number 6 Loll!pop Avenue, Glo Estate, to the chamber of Lawyer Oscar Brew. A few minutes later, I was seated before him, wielding the results of the fertility test proudly.
“Well, well, well, Dr. Ofori-Mensah, what brings you here again? I am sorry I could not help you the previous time you were here,” he said.
I smiled. Then I handed the result sl!p in my hand to him. They were two sl!ps. The first was the result from the test ordered by Dr. Dan Adams and the second was the result of the one done at the St. Michael’s hospital. He read both quietly. Finally, he looked up at me, a wry smile on his face.
“Well, well, well! I smell something fishy going on. I s£nse that the chickens are coming back home to roost. Somebody out there has a lot of explanation to do. Here we go. I am going to demand a third test from you from a hospital that I will choose. Then we will proceed from there” he said. I nodded. I knew why he wanted a third test from a hospital of his choice: he wanted to be sure I had not manipulated the results I had handed over to him.
………… be continued…………


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