Sister asks for help conceiving

My name is Kenneth.
I am married to a lovely wife, who gave me 2 very very energetic children.
I have a sister, Marge, who is a bit younger than me, but she is quickly approaching 40.

She came to visit me one day, but asked that we have a chat alone.
‘Kenny, Mark and I have been trying for 20 years, and have gone to many Gynae’s to figure out a way to have a child.
‘Well, yes, it must have been tough.’, I interjected.
‘Yeah, but also it has been extremely expensive. Mark’s sperm count is extremely low, but the Lab said that his sperm looks damaged, something wrong with their movement.’
She looked very worried, and was perspiring. She started to stammer a little, like she was building up to something big.
I started wondering.
Was she dying?
Did she come to me to break the news?
Was Mark ill? Did he have testicular cancer or something?

‘I’ve come to ask for your help.’, she asked.
‘But please, don’t judge me, and promise not to be mad, and never to talk about it, even to Lucy.’, she asked earnestly.
I saw her eyes start misting up, and shine in the light.
After years and years of training, I knew exactly how to handle this.
I took both her hands and looked her dead in the eyes and said, ‘No matter what, I won’t overreact, it’s fine to talk to me about your problem.’

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
‘I would like if you could contribute some of your sperm to apply to myself and…… create a ………..’, she said, trying to make it sound as unsexual and as mechanical as possible.

I could feel absolutely nothing, I heard absolutely nothing, except the zinging in my ears.
I saw her mouth moving after that but cannot tell what she was saying.
I was deep in thought and left her hands and looked around for a chair to sit in.
She came to me and kneeled on the ground in front of me.

‘I’m so sorry, please, don’t be disappointed.’

In all my life this was hands down the wierdest thing.

‘Can’t you go to a sperm bank?’, I asked politely, after gathering my wits.
‘If you can’t go to a sperm bank, can’t you ask a good friend for this?’

‘I thought about this for 4 years now,’ she said.
‘I’m getting close to my change in life’, she paused, ‘ and my window is getting smaller Kenny.’
‘I’ve known you all my life, and I know you are a good man.’
‘You are not sickly, and have shown me what a good father you are to your children.’
‘I don’t want to take a risk with other people who I don’t know and find out that they have hereditary health problems after the kid is born, or that they are complete asshole sociopaths.’

It sounded like she had thought about this and was committed to the idea, so I tried to make her think about the practical side of it.

‘Ok, how do we get the specimens together?, I asked.
‘You can go into the room, put the specimen into a small cup, and when you are done, you leave the cup in the room.’
‘I can then go into the room and suck it up with a syringe, like the ones you use to give your kids medicine.
Then, I can, let’s say, give myself the medicine.’, she said, completely, and proud of herself.

‘What about the chance of deformities?’, I asked.
‘This is not the dark ages Kenny, they do scans and can pick up 99% of potential issues.’, she said.

This sounds like she was planning this for a long time, and had done sufficient research as well.
‘But we cannot be interrupted’, she sped along, assuming that I was agreeing to this.
‘We can go to a motel and complete the process there so we need to book time in our calenders to do this.’ she forced, like a business agreement.

‘Ask Lucy if you may have lunch with me this Saturday.