“The procedure we’re going to do is known as a trans-rectal biopsy,” Dr. Benson said. “It means we’ll be accessing your prostate through your rectum. The procedure will be done right in this room. A nurse will be by early to give you an enema.”
“Enema?” Max repeated in horror.
“It's necessary,” Dr. Benson replied.
Dr. Benson turned to the nurse motioning her forward. “Nurse Marcus here has a consent form for you to sign, feel free to read it over and if you have any questions I’m around.”
“Thank you,” Max said taking the form and trying to read. His vision was blurry however so he picked up his phone and hit speed dial two.
“Clarence? I need you to come tell me if I should sign this consent form or not,” he said into the receiver.
“I’m at the administration wing facilitating your move to somewhere where we can control the environment better. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Clarence said.
“Okay,” Max said and hung up. There was movement at the door and he looked up to behold a fairly tall woman the color of café au lait, her honey eyes regarding him with cool curiosity. She’d tied her curly black hair in a pony tail with the ends exploding all over the place like a squirm of wriggling worms; only much better looking. Her cupid’s bow mouth was pursed in disapproval like it always was when she looked at him. She had on some sort of dark lipstick and she was dressed for work in blue coveralls.
“Hey Chris,” Max said.
Her frown got even worse. “Don’t call me that,” she said.
“Come to see if I’m dying?” Max asked with a mouth twist of his own.
“Oh you wish you were that important to me. Gra sent me to bring you lunch.”
“Kind of you to go out of your way like this,” Max said still in that baiting tone.
“Actually, there is a faulty transformer I need to look at nearby. The hospital is on my way. So you want your lunch or not?”
Max shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one lurking in the doorway.”
Christine stepped into the room proffering a small square bag. She placed it on the table and unzipped it, unloading a plate piled with greens and covered with transparent foil. She put the plate on his bed table and then extracted another plate arranged with fish fingers and baked potato. Lastly, there was a container of sauce.
“Looks good,” Max said. “I don’t suppose there’s any wine in there.”
Christine just glared at him and then extracted a bottle of sparkling water. “That’s all you get,” she said sternly.
Max pouted like a baby. “Why?” he wailed.
Christine just ignored him and turned to leave.
“Hey Chris?” Max said. Christine turned around to glare at him.
“Thanks for the delivery,” he said.
Christine said nothing, just resumed her walk out of his room.
*****
The examination was not as horrible as Max imagined it would be, but the pain of having his intergluteal cleft penetrated was exacerbated by his mother calling his phone right after. Andrea, his personal assistant, usually fielded all calls from France just in case his mother was using someone else’s phone but she wasn’t here right now and Max had thought it was Martha…or Christine. So he hadn’t glanced at the caller ID before picking up. His mind might have been on the throbbing sensation emanating from his ass and maybe worried about the fact that bleeding was said to be a possible side effect of the procedure.
“Max mon cher,” his mother’s voice spread like a noxious cloud inside his head.
“Maman, what can I do for you?” Max replied.
“Je voulais juste voir comment vous faisiez mon cherie,” Claire Lestrange said. She wasn’t even French; she’d moved to France when she married Oscar Lestrange but she was originally from the Mid West. Max had gone to school in France, he’d spent only holidays in America until he joined Harvard University to pursue law and yet he didn’t keep dropping French words into his conversations like his mother did. He found her to be an extremely pretentious twat. Perhaps because she was little better than white trash before Oscar picked her up at a county fair one day and fancied himself in love with her. The honeymoon had lasted only long enough to produce one child and then Oscar and Claire Lestrange had gone their separate ways. Not too far though…Oscar wouldn’t grant her full custody and Claire was not about to let go of that child support.
“I am doing well thank you for asking Maman, however I’m very tired and I need my rest so I will talk to you another time,” he said hanging up before she could come up with the real reason for her call which probably involved some sob story about how she needed more money. Now that his father was dead, Max was in charge of his vast fortune in real estate and automotive parts. The latter had began as a passion of Oscar’s and had grown into a multi million dollar enterprise with an exclusive Formula One contract. That was in addition to his own businesses in America that mostly consisted of making deals and getting in on the ground floor of profitable ventures. His investment in the Fast and Furious franchise for example had netted him a pretty penny plus his company provided the parts for all the cars.
He’d said he was tired just to get rid of his mother but Max found himself drifting off to sleep soon after that phone call. He guessed this…whatever it was…was really taking it out of him.