Chapter 55: Results

February 12, 1991, Chicago, Illinois

“Was losing your virginity traumatic in some way?” Doctor Bradford asked.

“No,” I said with a smile, “I don’t believe it was.”

“Was this something that was planned, or something that just happened?”

“It most certainly wasn’t planned! At least not by me!”

“But the other person did plan?”

“I’m not sure that ‘plan’ is the right word, but she certainly thought about it beforehand.”

“She was your age?”

“No. She was about nine years older. She was a widow whose husband had died in Vietnam.”

“So your first sexual experience was with a much older woman. What’s the age difference between this woman and your mother?”

“My mom was born in 1936, so seventeen or eighteen years, I guess.”

“And you were very sexually active from that point on?”

“Yes.”

“The women you favor, are they older than you?”

I shook my head, “No. In fact, I made a point of sticking to partners that were no more than two years older than I am. I was pretty firm about that.”

“But you say your first lover was older, and it wasn’t traumatic. Oftentimes, that leads young men to seek out other partners who are older and more experienced. How many times were you with this first woman?”

“Twice. She broke it off because she was afraid of falling in love with a fourteen-year-old. She had thought I was seventeen.”

“Did she know you were only fourteen before you had your first encounter?”

“Yes. It gave her pause, I guess, but in the end, she decided to do it.”

“How did you feel when she broke things off?”

“I was upset, but I didn’t have one of my episodes. In fact, before the first one, which happened over a year later, the only time I had anything like that happen was when I stood up too quickly, which I told you when we talked about my mom and sister.”

“So what did you do?”

“Got over it. As I look back, the real shock was when she asked me to have sex, not when she broke up with me. I was totally unprepared for sex.”

“Unprepared? As in, surprised? Or as in, you had no idea what to do?”

I laughed, “Both! I mean, I’d had sex education, and my mom had bought this book series for kids going through puberty, so I knew what went where, but that did not prepare me for sex in any way other than the most basic mechanics. Well, and birth control.”

“This was what? 1977?”

“Yes. May of ‘77.”

“What birth control did you use?”

“She was still taking the Pill. For some reason, she hadn’t stopped after Jim, her husband, died in 1973.”

“Before we move on to what happened next, I want to ask about that age limit. You said you made a point of sticking to girls no more than two years older than you. Did you ever break that?”

“My wife, Doctor Jessica Adams, who works in the hospital, is very, very close to the limit, but she’s not quite two years older than I am. Except for my first, no, I don’t think I’ve ever violated it, though I suppose it’s possible one or two of the girls were a bit older than I thought. But that would have been months, not years. Well, actually, there may have been one or two, now that I think more about it. But no more than four years.”

“Were there any older women, besides your first, that you were sexually attracted to?”

I nodded, “The mother of one of my girlfriends. We came VERY close, but nothing really happened.”

“When was that?”

“Well, it probably started that Summer after I turned fourteen when my girlfriend’s mom walked in on us having sex in the sauna. The near-disaster was about five years later when her mom came on to me in a serious way. Well, I suppose I was as much to blame as she was because I was flirting.”

“Your girlfriend was your age?”

“She was one grade ahead.”

“So her mom was roughly the same age as your mom, then?”

I chuckled, “Nice try, Doctor Freud. No. My friend’s mom had her when she was fifteen. My mom had me when she was twenty-seven.”

He laughed, “A good sense of humor about things like that is a positive sign. So this girlfriend was the next sexual partner after your first?”

“Doc, we’re going to need to use names, or you’re very quickly going to get lost!”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because since my first time with Jennie, I’ve had around a hundred partners.”

I could tell by his eyes that Doctor Bradford was surprised, if not shocked. I was very curious what was going through his head at that point, but I wasn’t sure he’d tell me.

“You’ve been tested for STDs, I hope.”

“Repeatedly. And since HIV became more prevalent in the heterosexual community, a clean STD test is a requirement.”

“There’s no way to put this delicately — you cheat on your wife?”

I laughed hard. “Doc, did Al not fill you in?”

“He tried to talk to me in detail about you, but I didn’t want him to color my first impression. What am I missing?”

“I’m married to two women, and yes, we’ve taken the necessary steps to stay out of trouble with the law. I have three children by them, with one on the way. I also have three children by two other women, one of whom is a regular sex partner. The other is a High School sweetheart who turned out to be lesbian.”

“And you have partners besides those women?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not sure I have enough time for a thorough evaluation,” he said with a smile.

“I’ve had women say that to me!” I chuckled.

He laughed, “I think we need to rewind. After this first woman, Jennie, was the slightly older girl we were talking about before?”

“No. After Jennie was Birgit, a Swedish exchange student who was my age. I was with her once, and then she went home. It was her death a year later that led to my first syncopal episode.”

“I suppose, at this point, I should just let you tell the story.”

Doctor Bradford ended up canceling the rest of his appointments for the afternoon, and we talked in detail about the various episodes, with me filling in as much backstory as he needed. We were interrupted by an orderly who came to take me for my cardiac stress test, and Doctor Bradford asked if I’d come to his office once I was discharged. I agreed and got into the wheelchair for the orderly to take me for my test.

“Hi, Steve,” Doctor Washington said as I was wheeled into the testing room.

“Hi, Doc,” I said.

“You know the drill. Let’s get you hooked up and get the test over with so you can get out of here.”

As with the previous stress test, I passed with flying colors.

“Do you mind if we keep going?” Doctor Washington asked.

“Keep going?”

“I’m going to increase the incline and speed and see if we can induce any kind of anomaly. You’re well past the usual point where something would show up, but that’s likely because you run so much. I don’t expect anything to happen, but we’re going to really push the limits.”

“Sure, why not,” I grinned.

“If you feel at all uncomfortable, have any kind of chest pain or tightness, or develop a headache, say something immediately!”

I agreed and the treadmill rose to an even steeper angle and began moving faster. I was effectively jogging uphill, but other than breathing hard and having an elevated heart rate, I had no problems. After five minutes, Doctor Washington slowed the machine and lowered the incline.

“There’s nothing wrong with your heart or lungs, that’s for sure!” he said. “That last bit would give ME a heart attack, and I’m in good shape! Of course, I’m also at least thirty years older than you are!”

“Thanks, Doc.”

“I’ll compare the results to the first one, but I don’t expect to see any problems. Al will let you know what we find.”

“Thanks,” I said.

The orderly wheeled me back to my room, where I showered and dressed, then walked out to the nurses’ station. Doctor Barton had signed the discharge papers, and I adamantly refused the wheelchair because I was going to Doctor Bradford’s office, and felt it was silly to ride down to the first floor, then turn right around and get in the elevator.

“Still the devil!” Nurse Sanchez quipped.

I leaned forward, “If you want to find out just how bad I can be, all you have to do is ask!”

She shook her head but smiled, “I think I’ll pass.”

“That’s too bad!” I grinned. “A bit of Angel food would be very satisfying right now!”

“Get out of here before I call security,” she laughed.

“Thanks for everything, Angel. It’s been heavenly, and I appreciate it.”

She groaned and shook her head, “You’re welcome. And good luck!”

I walked to the elevators and decided to drop in on Jessica first. I pushed the button for the first floor.

“Hi, Babe,” I said.

“I see you refused the wheelchair!”

“Of course! I need to go back upstairs to talk to Doctor Bradford. It seems my life is more complicated than he thought.”

Jessica laughed, “Doctor Barton told me that Doctor Bradford wanted to get his own first impression.”

“How does he not know about our trio?” I asked.

“He’s new. He’s only been here since January 1st. I think that’s one of the reasons Doctor Barton wanted him to do the evaluation.”

“That makes sense. I’m just waiting for him to somehow relate all my troubles to an Oedipus Complex.”

“Freud did have some valid points, but in others, well, he was a bit off. I’m guessing your sexual history surprised him?”

“It did. We’re talking about that intermixed with the events that led to each of my episodes.”

“It’s kind of hard to separate them, given that most of them revolved around girls you were intimate with. Even in the case of Nick’s death and funeral, it was more about Bethany than about Nick.”

“An interesting insight,” I said. “I suppose that’s true. Nick was a friend, but Bethany, well, you know.”

Jessica smiled, “I do. Go on, go see the pshrink!”

I kissed her and headed back to the elevators. A few minutes later, I was ushered into Doctor Bradford’s office.

“We left off talking about your friend Stephie’s funeral,” he said, consulting his notes. “Let’s pick up with that.”

We spent another hour talking, finishing with the events surrounding Nick’s death, my hospitalization, and Nick’s funeral.

“So what do you think, Doc? Am I crazy?”

“No, you aren’t. In fact, you are quite sane, logical, and intelligent. You’re hypersexual, but it doesn’t appear to interfere with you being a successful businessman, husband, and father. From what you’ve told me, you know just enough about clinical diagnosis to know what that means.”

“Yes. If I’m functioning, and my symptoms are consistent with a diagnosis, but they don’t impair my ability to live my life, then I don’t have a mental illness, by definition.”

He nodded, “Your friend Bethany has obviously had a great impact on you. As for the mood swings, that’s all we can call them at the moment. Might you be bipolar? Yes, but it would be a very, very mild case. It’s something worth watching, but for right now, I wouldn’t recommend any changes. And certainly no drugs.

“As for your syncope, I’m going to suggest looking at body chemistry, especially related to your adrenal glands, but also your thyroid and pituitary gland. The wide battery of tests Doctor Barton ordered should give us an indication of which of those things it is. With your mom’s history of thyroid problems, that’s the first place I would look. But I’m not an expert in that area.

“All of that said, if you have another episode of syncope, or get depressed, or go on one of your sex sprees, I want to see you again. Please make sure you talk to Jessica about this, as well as the other women in your life. If they feel you need to see me, that’s enough reason to come here. You don’t seem to have a problem with mental health professionals, so I’m hoping you’ll listen to them.”

“I will. My wives and I are still seeing Doctor Green once a month for relationship counseling. Would you send him your evaluation?”

“Yes. I’ll need you to sign a release.”

He opened a drawer, extracted a release form, and pushed it across the desk to me. I filled it out, signed it, and pushed it back. I stood, we shook hands, and I headed back down to the ER to see Jessica.

“I still have an hour to go,” she said. “Are you going home or staying?”

“I’ll stay to walk home with you,” I said. “Is Kara coming at 6:00pm?”

“Yes. You know she didn’t want to leave this morning, and it was all I could do to convince her to just wait until the end of the day. I guess she didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“No, she didn’t. But so far, everything is clean — EKG, EEG, CT, stress test, and psych eval. Doctor Carver did schedule a ‘tilt table’ test for next Tuesday morning. I guess they couldn’t do it now because I had to eat normally for the glucose tolerance test, and the neurological test requires me to fast.”

“That’s correct. Did you get any results on the glucose tests?”

“No. I didn’t get any blood chemistry or urinalysis results. When Al stopped in to say ‘hello’ this morning, he hadn’t seen them, either.”

“Let’s go sit in the lounge. They’ll call me if they need me. It’s quiet right now.”

We sat in the lounge and cuddled. Jessica didn’t get called, and just before 6:00pm, Kara came into the lounge.

“How are you?” Kara asked.

“Other than wanting to get out of this building, I’m fine,” I replied with a smile. “Everyone is focusing on my thyroid right now, given the revelation from my dad about my mom’s issues. I need to tell my sister so she can be evaluated. It’s something they’ll have to check on every time I have a physical.”

“And that’s the cause?”

“Who knows? The psychiatrist thinks it could be related to my adrenal glands or my pituitary. We’ll know more when all the blood and urine test results are back. So far, everyone says I’m healthy. And Doctor Bradford, the pshrink, says I’m not diagnosable as bipolar.”

“Because of the insurance issue we talked about?” Kara asked.

“No, because it’s far too mild and doesn’t have a seriously deleterious effect on me living a normal life.”

“Even with all the symptoms?”

“Yes. Remember what Bethany always says — if it doesn’t prevent you from living a normal life, it’s not technically a mental illness. I know it seems like a distinction without a difference, but if you think about it, we’re all crazy in some sense.”

“I’m crazy for you, Snuggle Bear! And you, Jess!”

“I don’t think that’s a mental illness!” I chuckled.

“Don’t be so sure, Tiger!” Jessica teased.

The three of us hugged, Jessica signed out, and we headed home.

“Daddy!” Birgit squealed when we came in the front door.

“Your biggest fan missed you,” Kara said softly.

I picked up Birgit and kissed her on the forehead, and she kissed me on the cheek.

“Daddy is OK?”

“Yes, Pumpkin, Daddy is OK!”

“Hi, Dad!” Jesse called out.

“Hi, Jesse, how are you?”

“Good. Mom One said they checked on your brain, and you’re a miracle of modern medicine because you don’t have one!”

We all laughed hard as Jennifer walked into the foyer.

“Gee, thanks, Jen!” I grinned.

“Mom Two said you did have a brain,” Jesse continued, “but they looked in the wrong place!”

More laughter.

“And just where were they supposed to look?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“In your penis! Mom Two says you think with it! All boys do!”

Even more laughter, now joined by Elyse, Abbie, and Josie.

“Out of the mouths of babes,” Jessica laughed.

“I am NOT a baby!” Jesse protested.

“No, you’re a big boy!” I said.

“With a big mouth,” Josie said, sotto voce.

“Let’s go see the rest of the kids,” I said.

“Dada!” Matthew and Michael both called out.

I walked over to them and gave them each a hug, then went to where Albert was playing and hugged him as well.

“Dada sick?” Albert asked.

“No, Dada is fine. He was just being checked by doctors.”

Stephie was sleeping, so I walked over to the playpen, leaned down, and gently kissed her cheek.

“Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes,” Abbie said. “Are you going to karate?”

“Not tonight,” I said. “I told Sensei I’d be back at the dōjō tomorrow.”

“In all seriousness, is everything OK?” Jennifer asked.

“I passed all the tests with flying colors,” I said. “We still need the blood and urine test results, but everything else is good. I have one more neurological test scheduled for next Tuesday morning. I couldn’t do it this time because the prep conflicted with the glucose tolerance test prep. Is my sister here?”

“She and Ed will be here for dinner,” Abbie said.

Ed and Stephanie arrived, and despite wanting to talk to her, dinner was ready, so we went to the table. When we finished eating, I took my sister aside, and we went to my study.

“Tell Doctor Fremd that Mom had a thyroidectomy two years ago due to hyperthyroidism.”

“What?!” she gasped.

“Yeah, I was surprised by that, too. Doctor Nilson, the internal medicine guy, had me call Dad for our family medical history. Mom decided not to tell us, and Dad couldn’t convince her otherwise. I’m sure she’s pissed he told me, but he knew he had to.”

“What a bitch!” my sister growled.

“You need to tell your regular doctor, too, so they can keep an eye on it. And that she had Rheumatic Fever when she was little.”

“I can’t believe she wouldn’t tell us about something so important!”

“Another thing you need to tell your regular doctor is that Dad had skin cancer back in the early 70s. It was removed, and he had no recurrence. He blamed it on all the time he spent in the Sun during World War II, in Cuba, in Vegas, and later in California.”

“Holy shit!” Stephanie gasped. “Cancer?”

“Yes, but as I said, a long time ago, and it hasn’t come back.”

“What else don’t we know?!”

“That’s just it. We don’t know what we don’t know. I think Dad told me everything, but I can’t be absolutely sure.”

“And you? Were you honest at dinner about everything?”

“Yes. They found nothing. And I don’t mean Jennifer’s ‘brain scan’ joke, either!”

“Josie’s comment was hilarious.”

“Yeah, yeah. Your ex-boyfriend said I needed a proctologist for a brain scan.”

“If the shoe fits...” she giggled. “And Josie is right. Guys do think with their dicks.”

“Yes, we do. How are your sessions with Doctor Fremd going?”

“Fine, I guess.”

“And you’re sticking to the diet?”

“Now I know how you feel when Jessica cut you off from soda! I was SO used to drinking it. How do you stand that carbonated water shit? Even with lemon, it tastes terrible!”

“I like it, actually. What are you drinking?”

“Water, tea, and coffee, though I have to watch the caffeine.”

“And you’re going to your Jazzercise class four times a week now?”

“Yes. And lifting weights with Ed in the morning before he goes to work. Nothing heavy, just enough to tone and build a bit of muscle strength.”

“Good. Are you staying at his place?”

“Only some nights. He won’t let me stay every night.”

“He’s just being careful, Squirt.”

“I know. He’ll let me move in when I graduate.”

“Good. Stick to the program, and everything will work out OK.”

“And you?”

“I’m fine. Let’s wait to see what the doctors say. I’m betting they have nothing unless they turn up something with my thyroid or adrenal glands.”

“Then what?”

“We live our lives and watch for signs or symptoms. And we never, ever give our kids sugary drinks or lots of candy. And we stay on our low-carb diets.”

“This is scary,” she sighed.

I pulled her into my arms and held her.

“I know. But we’ll be fine. I’m sure of it.”

“I wish I was,” she sighed.

February 15, 1991, Chicago, Illinois

“Last night was fun!” Kara said as the three of us showered on Friday morning.

“I’d say that was my best Valentine’s Day ever!” Jessica added.

“I still say the highlight was the card from Birgit,” I said.

“You and that daughter of yours!” Kara laughed.

“She’s YOUR daughter, too!” I protested.

“Yes, but she’s her daddy’s girl for sure. That card was so cute! Did you thank Abbie for helping?”

“I did.”

“And you heard from Jennifer about Jesse?”

“You mean the two dozen valentines he sent out? To every girl he knows? Including April and Sarah?”

“That kid is angling to surpass you!” Jessica laughed. “As if that’s even possible!”

“I think if anyone can, he’s the one!” Kara laughed with a yelp as Jessica slapped her butt.