I was born with 'lazy swimmers' - my testicles didn’t drop properly when I was a kid.
I never really noticed it in the changing sheds at school swimming sports. While every other kid pranced around with balls the size of Taupo, it never occurred to me to look down at my empty ‘coin purse’ and properly compare notes. I had an operation to surgically lower my balls when I was 12. I remember some school friends coming in to the hospital to see how I’d recovered from my ‘hernia’. A hernia seemed like a great cover for an embarrassing ball operation.
As the years progressed, my equipment seemed to function okay, but given my ‘pennies’ never dropped, I was constantly wondering whether I could actually father a child. The fact my balls spent their first 12 years living the 'high life', meant there was more chance my sperms might have perished from overheating (the higher the balls, the higher the temperature).
In 2007, my curiosity piqued and I found myself sat in a GP’s waiting room riddled with nerves. A weirdly eccentric Doctor greeted me and started cracking funnies like he was Patch Adams, “You reckon you’ve got lazy swimmers eh? Bummer, how do you feel?” I remember feeling sad. He swiftly propped me up on a bed, lowered my trousers, and poked and prodded me like a piece of sirloin. He then told me to pull my pants up again and sit back in the chair opposite his desk. He looked me dead in the eyes and said, “I really feel for ya Dylan...Hey do you like movies?” He sent me away to ejaculate into the world’s smallest receptacle, after which a lab would count the exact number of my sperms.
When I returned days later to hear the results, Patch Adams looked me dead in the eyes again, “Milton, you should have 20 million sperm swimming around ‘the soup’…” I nodded, he continued, “…And you’ve got 2! How do ya feel?” I was shocked, “2!” He giggled like a schoolboy, “No no, 2 million, Milton! 2 million! Ha ha.” But this was no joke. Two million was well under the aforementioned pre-requisite for healthy balls. And to make matters worse, Patch Adams was dubious they had any sense of direction.
I left the Doctors with an awful feeling that, as well being riddled with doubt that I could ever be a good father, I was also riddled with 2 sperms who ‘bunked’ swimming lessons.