Dr. Daoshing Ni, the 37th generation of his family to be an acupuncturist, placed the needles in the strangest places—the middle of my forehead, my ankles, and a few on my chest. They didn't hurt—actually they put me to sleep. After each potent nap, I was handed a bag of herbs to brew as tea that stunk up the house and tasted worse.
But here's the funny thing: It worked. My sperm finally achieved numbers that indicated it was viable in a way that New York's Dr. Blunt said it could never be.
Pappy was surprised, and to test whether acupuncture was the contributing factor, he had me stop getting the needles. When I did my numbers went down. When I started again they went up.
Now that the issues on my side had been resolved, you might think my story would be over. It turns out we were just beginning the most emotionally difficult part of the journey…
Click here to read the next installment of our series on male infertility.