Twelve Men in the Huddle, page 14
“You’re a tall man Peter Wagner,” said Wong while staring upwards. “Please, tell Dr. Wong what is wrong.”
Over the next three minutes Pete tightly summarized his constellation of physical findings. While doing so he noticed Wong to simply stare to his right, shaking his head, as if something terrible was happening.
“Hmmm,” said Wong. “Are you otherwise healthy?”
“Yes. Very healthy.”
“Take any medications?”
“No.”
“Not even a daily vitamin?”
“No.”
“Do you smoke, drink, or use I.V. drugs?”
“No, occasionally and absolutely not,” responded Pete.
“Have you recently traveled outside of the country?”
“No,” said Pete.
“Are you heterosexual, homosexual or bisexual?”
“Hetero. One hundred percent.”
“You have acne. Is that new?”
“Yes,” said the fellow. “I haven’t had acne since high school.”
“How long have you had symptoms?”
“I noticed the acne first, about three weeks ago.”
“I see,” said the examiner. “Very interesting. Behind you is a gown. Can you please remove your clothes and put it on? Then open the door when you are ready.” The physician left the room, but stuck his head back in. “Please, remove your underwear too.”
Pete stripped down to skin to put the gown on. He struggled to tie the garment strings behind his neck and torso. The room was cold and the ambient temperature further contracted his testes. He hoped the young, attractive physician assistant in the office didn’t come in to assist the exam. After slightly opening the door, he sat on the table, listening to the conversations just outside. There were only two other patients in the office. Up until this point, he wasn’t impressed with the visit.
“I’m back,” said Wong. “You look nice in the gown.”
Pete just stared down at the floral outfit on his body. His knees and legs were cold and exposed.
“I often wonder,” said Pete. “Despite all the advances in medicine, this is the best gown we can come up with? I mean the examination gown hasn’t changed in the past one hundred years. There has to be something better out there.”
“Ha, ha. You’re right,” said Wong while looking up. “You are funny. Now let me examine you Peter Wagner.”
What followed was a surprisingly thorough physical examination. The endocrinologist began by palpating Pete’s neck, searching for any swollen glands or thyroid nodules. There were none. Next he listened to Pete’s heart and lung sounds through a stethoscope, which of course was cold. He took note of his swollen breasts. The abdominal exam performed with Pete in the supine position failed to detect any organomegaly.
“Next, I need to examine your penis and testicles,” said the doctor while placing on some blue latex gloves. While dropping the gown to the floor, Pete felt as if he was joining the army. ‘Line up butt to bellybutton,’ his gym teacher always yelled. ‘You’re in the army now.’
“Oh, you are quite healthy,” said Wong while inspecting Pete’s man zone. Next, he palpated his testicles.
“No. Please no,” said Pete to himself. “Lord, please spare me…”
“Next, I need to do a rectal,” said Wong. “Please, Peter Wagner, turn around and bend over.”
Pete’s prayers were unanswered as he submitted to the examiner’s request. It was the first rectal exam of his life.
“Prostate good,” said Wong while snapping his gloves off into the garbage can. Pete slowly turned around. It was the first time the two made direct eye contact.
“Did you find anything doctor?”
“Your testicles are like two little grapes, much smaller than the average male of your age.”
“I see,” said Pete. He was thankful the door was closed. Hopefully the walls were soundproof. “What’s wrong?”
“Could be many things,” said Wong. “We have to get some blood work.”
“Checking for what?”
“Thyroid, parathyroid, liver function, hormone levels. We will run the gamut.”
“What’s your differential diagnosis Dr. Wong? I mean, what’s your best guess? What can commonly cause this condition?”
“Dr. Wagner,” said Wong, his gaze back up on the ceiling. “Have you ever taken any performance enhancing drugs?”
“Like what? I’m not sure exactly what you mean?”
“Oh, things like human growth hormone, testosterone, androstenedione?”
“Steroids? Do you mean steroids?”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely not!” said Pete. “Never in my life. Why do you ask?”
“Your clinical presentation is consistent with that of a steroid user,” said Wong. “I’ve seen it many times before.”
“Really?” asked Pete incredulously. “How so?”
“How about your personality Dr. Wagner? Any change over the past few weeks?”
Pete paused, recognizing the endocrinologist was on to something. They briefly made eye contact again. Dr. Wong had a twinkle in his eye.
“Well yes,” said Pete. “I’ve been a bit emotional lately. Maybe a bit depressed. A lot of major life events have occurred over the past few weeks.”
“How about anger?” asked Wong. “Are you short tempered? Had any bouts of rage?”
“Well yes. Actually I have been in a fight recently,” replied Pete. “I will admit, that was quite unusual for me. I’m usually pretty easy going.”
“Peter Wagner, you present as quite the robust man down below, yet your testicles are extremely diminished.”
“Yes? And…”
“Have you ever heard of the LMNOP Syndrome?”
“Ah no. Actually I haven’t,” said Pete. “Remember, I’m an orthopedic surgeon. You know the old saying about Orthopods, ‘strong as an ox and twice as smart.’”
“Never heard of LMNOP?” asked Wong slowly, again with a smile on his face.
“No. What does it mean?”
“It mean – Lots of Meat and NO Potatoes,” said Wong, immediately bursting into laughter.
“What?” cried Pete.
“Lots of Meat and NO Potatoes,” howled Wong. “I’m sorry, but ever since I heard of such a syndrome in medical school, I have to laugh. It’s funny.”
Pete just stared back at the physician, noticing some tears in his eyes. The syndrome’s name was certainly catchy and quite the visual.
“Peter Wagner,” said Wong while gathering his composure. “In all seriousness, you have the classic LMNOP Syndrome. I am reasonably confident that you have been exposed to an exogenous source of testosterone.”
“Really? How?”
“The external testosterone has suppressed your testicles, whose sole function, as you know, is to produce testosterone. Exactly how you were exposed, I do not know.”
“Yes. Yes. It makes sense.”
“That’s why your testicles have shrunk,” said Wong. “And that would also explain all of your secondary sexual characteristics. The emotions, acne and gynecomastia.”
“You’re right,” said Pete. “I should have recognized it.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if your hair started to fall out.”
“What!” cried Pete. “Never. There hasn’t been a bald Wagner man in generations.” The thought of going prematurely bald struck Pete as harsh.
“My concern is how quickly things are happening to you Peter Wagner. I believe you are being exposed to large doses of some type of testosterone.”
“What’s our plan Doctor Wong?” asked Pete. He had a newfound confidence in the clinician.
“I’ll order the blood work and you inspect the environment surrounding you.”
“Looking for what?”
“Being near anyone using steroids,” said Wong. “Topical creams are commonly used to administer testosterone through the skin. If you come into contact with such a person, the medication can easily affect you.”
Pete immediately thought of Connor Kelly.
“Also, be aware of using any supplements ordered over the internet. There are many powder mixtures out there guaranteeing to build muscle mass. By and large, they are unregulated, and commonly can contain illegal substances such as testosterone.”
“Definitely. I will.”
“Once we have the blood work back, we can meet again. O.K. Peter Wagner?”
“Sure,” said Pete, his mind now racing. “What’s the key blood test you’re looking for?”
“The testosterone level,” said Wong. “This isn’t rocket science. Remember, I’m only an endocrinologist – not an orthopedic surgeon.” The short physician laughed loudly as he left the room. “So long Peter Wagner.”
Later that evening Pete and Heather shared a booth at the Jackson Gin Hole. The dinner date was arranged a few weeks earlier, prior to the surprise visit from Chloe Brown. It was Friday night, and the team was away tomorrow for their first road game.
“So you travel with the team everywhere?” asked Pete. “That must be exciting.”
“Yes I do,” said Heather. “Actually, I’ve been doing it for years. So after a while it just becomes a job.”
“How about when Billy Mo played? Did you travel with the team?”
“Yep,” said Heather while finishing up her pasta entrée.
“Wasn’t that awkward?”
“Nah, we kept it clean in public. No public display of affections.”
“How’s Billy? I haven’t seen him at the games. At least on the sidelines.”
“He’s fine,” said Heather. “You do know that we recently broke up?”
“No. I didn’t know that,” replied Pete. From the moment he met Heather there was something magical about her. She possessed an enticing combination of beauty, athleticism and personality. “I’m sorry to hear that. Why the break?”
“We just ran out of steam, I guess,” was the muted reply. “Our relationship ran its course.” Heather dabbed her lips with a napkin. “Actually it feels good to be free. I haven’t felt this way in some time.”
Pete didn’t respond, silently appreciating the news.
“How’s Chloe?”
“Good, good,” said Pete. “I mean wow. Her visit was like a lightning bolt out of the blue. She just appeared at my front door. No warning.”
“Are you happy about it?”
“Yea. I think so,” said Pete with hesitation. “To be honest, I had so much anger towards her, I didn’t know what to say. If she had asked to come down, I probably would have told her no.”
“She seems wonderful. A very pretty woman.”
“Yea,” said Pete. “I told her we need to take it slow. There are still some open wounds in my body.”
“It seems like we are both in a transition period,” said Heather. “I’m glad I have someone to talk it over with.”
“Me too,” said Pete. He had just finished the General Lee special. It was the first time he had tried it.
“How was the house special?”
“A little disappointing,” said Pete while pushing the tray away.
“Really?” asked Heather. “It’s my favorite. What didn’t you like?”
“It had lots of meat, but not enough potatoes,” answered Pete. “A man’s got to have his potatoes.”
“Really?” said Heather. “I’m a meat person, so the hell with the potatoes. Show me the beef!”
Pete laughed at the innocent double entendre. If it wasn’t for Chloe, he thought. He was glad to hear Heather was free.
Pete returned home late that evening, alone. Jamal was sitting on the couch, having a beer.
“Big game tomorrow,” said Jamal. “The medical caravan pulls out at six o’clock. It’s a three hour drive across state.”
“Thanks for reminding me Jamal. I’ll be ready.”
“Out on the town with Heather?”
“Yes. She’s a very interesting woman.”
“She’s in love with you,” said Jamal without emotion. He was watching a football game on TV.
“Says who?”
“Lexi,” was the response. “I guess they are good friends. Apparently you really stir her pot.”
Pete didn’t respond while digesting the insider news.
“You know she broke up with Billy Mo,” said Jamal. “Her social calendar is now wide open.”
No response.
“Of course there’s Chloe,” said Jamal. “Beautiful Chloe and an unlimited supply of makeup sex. I had a dream about her last night. What a woman.”
“Thanks for the visual,” said Pete. “But I’ve got enough problems of my own. Remember the Great Swagner – half man, half woman?”
“Oh yea, right,” said Jamal. “Well, you know the old saying. Physician, heal thyself.”
“Thanks Jamal. I do plan on doing that. See you in the morning. Goodnight.”
Pete headed to his bedroom door.
“Oh Pete, I almost forgot,” said Jamal. “A Dr. Wong called. He left a message.”
“What? What did he have to say?”
“He forgot to tell you something about your visit today.”
“What?” said Pete. His heart was starting to beat rapid.
“He wants you to drink green tea,” said Jamal. “The more the merrier. Apparently it’s been shown to depress testosterone levels.”
Pete just stared at his roommate.
“Isn’t that interesting?” said Jamal. “You’ve been drinking it all along.”
Chapter Fifteen
A GOOD SAMARITAN
“Thank you young man,” said the elderly woman. She was straining to reach up and close the trunk of her car. “You’re always so nice to me.”
“No problem,” said Billy Mo. “It’s my pleasure. Can I help you with anything else Mrs. Franklin?” Billy reached up and closed the trunk, the customer’s groceries tucked inside. He just helped carry out her bags from Big Jim’s Pump and Pantry. It was a hot, windy afternoon.
“I’m sorry about the money,” said Mrs. Franklin. “I just don’t know what happened to it. It was in my purse this morning. I promise you, I’ll pay for it.” Her hair was a peculiar grey and light blue mix.
“Don’t worry about it Mrs. Franklin,” said Billy. He knew her grandson well and suspected his narcotic addiction may have played into the situation. “Just let me know if the money ever turns up Mrs. Franklin. O.K.?”
“You are such a wonderful young man William Morris.” The octogenarian reached up high to pinch his cheek. “God will reward you.”
“I hope so,” replied Billy. “Things haven’t been very rewarding as of late.”
“Trust me, he will. I’m going to put you on my prayer card tonight William. Prayer is a very powerful tool.”
Billy Mo carefully helped Mrs. Franklin into her sedan and waved as she slowly drove away, her right turn blinker on the entire time. He could barely see her head above the steering wheel. A thick cloud of dust drifted back in his direction.
“Beep, beep!” sounded a car horn behind him.
Turning around Billy saw Assistant Coach Avery pulling up in a Tulsa Valley vehicle. Avery was the only member of the football hierarchy to frequent Big Jim’s, and Billy was one of his favorite defensive players of all time.
“Billy Mo!” yelled Coach Avery as he stepped outside the car door. “How they hanging?”
“All right coach. Just all right. How you doing today?”
“We’re 3-0 Billy, and the Cannonball is coming back soon. I’m feeling good. Fill her up.”
“This may be the year coach,” said Billy as he stared at the gas pump. “You just have to get past State.”
“I’m already whipping up some defensive schemes to confuse their quarterback,” said Avery. “Their quarterback ain’t the sharpest tool in the box. I’m going to mess him up.”
“I’m available for any coaching duties,” said Billy. “This job here at Big Jim’s is kind of part time coach. It’s nothing permanent. I’m working here just until a few pieces of the puzzle fall into place.”
“I know Billy.”
“Do you need another defensive coach?”
“Nah, not right now,” said Avery. “It’s really not my decision Billy. Honestly. Otherwise I would have hired you years ago.”
“Coach, I can still see all their scripted plays in my head,” said Billy, a shine appearing in his eyes. “It’s like some sort of photographic memory. They just keep running over and over in my brain. I know Southern State’s offense cold. It’s a recurring nightmare from my last game as a senior, when we couldn’t stop them. Really coach, it’s a sixth sense, some sort of ESPN going on.”
“That may actually be post traumatic stress disorder,” said Avery.
“Good one coach, but really, I’m always available. Please tell Coach Hayes. It would be an honor to help coach Tulsa Valley.”
“Billy, we’ve been through this before. Coach Hayes is one crazy, superstitious man. He’s convinced someone with a voodoo doll in your likeness caused that fumble. Like some sort of a hex thrown upon the team. He’s not going to hire you son.”
“Just promise me coach. If a job opens up, let me know.”
“I will Billy Mo,” said the coach with a pat on his shoulder. “Put it on Tulsa’s tab O.K?”
“Sure,” said Billy while putting the gas cap back on the car. “Say hello to the team. I miss them. Especially Derrick. He’s looking good.”
“Will do Billy Mo,” said the coach while getting into his vehicle. Before pulling away he rolled down the window. “Billy. Sorry to hear about you and Heather Jackson. You two made an excellent couple.”
“Thanks coach.”
“Hang in there, Billy. Good things happen to good people.”
“You bet coach.”
“Oh, yea. Dean Royce says hello!”
“Thanks coach!” said the gas station attendant as the vehicle pulled away. Another cloud of dust lifted up from the dry earth. Billy slowly walked back into the pantry store.
