THE UNFAITHFUL WIFE
By: Ebube Nwuze
I stared at the doctor in shock. I was
“Why do you look so shocked,” he
asked. “You should be looking happy,”
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
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 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
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 assertion was like sweet music to
“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
“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 assistance. 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
Ambassador Hotel now. Let’s go!” I said,
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
Ambassador 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 Lollipop
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 slip in
my hand to him. They were two slips.
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 sense 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.
…………..to be continued…………
Question: Wooow atlast! He is fertile.. So does that means he is the biological father to Peter and Pamela?