He ignores my non-answer and keeps going. “But this technique blows even that advanced stuff out of the water, and I’m hoping you’ll take advantage of it.”
“Why would anybody with my medical history ever want to take that risk and go through all of that again?”
He opens his mouth to answer but stops himself. He takes a moment, concentration lines between his brows. “I don’t know, honestly. I can argue that you’d be working with better doctors,” he says, pointing to himself, “and equipment that won’t hit the U.S. market for another three years, but even with the best team, I can’t give you a guarantee. I can only give you my best hypothesis, based on years of working with the serum.”
I cross my arms, feeling really fucking cornered.
Anders tracks my movement and softens his tone. “I’ll put it to you this way: I’ll respect whatever choice you make, but if it were me, I’d give surgery one more try.”
I start to rebut him but think better of it. Anders isn’t right in the head, but he’s a skilled surgeon and, god help me, I trust his judgment in the matter.
“I still need to think it through, but I appreciate the extra testing and review. I just don’t want to go through all that pain to replace the current knee, only to have to go through it all over again a few years down the road. If you’re confident I’ve got a good shot of being in less pain than I’m in right now, and if you think this knee replacement will last for the rest of my life, then…I need to consider it.”
He lets out a breath and his shoulders sag as though he thought I’d reject the idea outright. “I’m glad to hear you say that. Genuinely. Quick question. Our surgical team has privileges in Austin, and they have fine equipment. The best equipment, however, resides in Wimberley and doesn’t require insurance involvement. It does mean we would have to black-bag you while we are getting you into place. Would that be a problem?”
Ridiculous. “You’re seriously going to put a bag over my head? Why not just blindfold me?”
Anders shrugs. “Company policy. Gotta walk through a lot of highly classified hallways to get you down to the surgical suite.”
I roll my eyes.“Yeah, fine. Whatever. If I decide to go through with this—and I’m not even close to saying yes—who would be doing the surgery?”
“It’d be a combination. I did the trials for this particular knee replacement, so I’d take care of that. I already shared your surgeon’s findings and pictures with our plastic surgeon, Dr. Tamashiro, and she would perform the skin grafts because that’s her area of expertise. It’s technically an experimental procedure, but she’s got hundreds of skin-graft surgeries under her belt. I feel confident in her ability to give you the best outcome possible.”
“I’m guessing that whatever I signed gave you permission to do that too?”
He nods as he grabs his iPad, with enough self-awareness to look slightly sheepish. “I’d like to pull her up on a quick call if you’re okay with that.”
Fuckingcornered. “Fine. Go ahead.”
Anders opens his laptop and pulls up an unfamiliar instant message app. A few minutes later, a kind face fills the screen. “Dr. Tamashiro—I’ve got DeShaun Blaylock here.”
I wave awkwardly.
“Dr. Bash, Mr. Blaylock. I’m excited to talk to you today. Do you mind if I ask you some questions you’ve probably answered a million times before?”
Oh, why the hell not.I gesture for her to continue, and she dives in, starting with the basics: name, height, weight, level of pain, and flexibility.
“So now I’m going to get into more personal questions. Would you like for Dr. Bash to leave the room?”
“Please.” I know he can access my data, but I don’t need to be in the room when he does.
“Rude,” he grumbles, grabbing his cell phone off the desk. I shoot him the finger, which he air kisses before shuffling out the door.
Once I confirm that he’s gone, she dives right in. “Your genitals were badly affected by the blast. Do you have any sexual function?”
I clench my jaw. “What the hell does that have to do with anything? I thought I just needed to get my leg looked at for the knee replacement.”
“You are. But it seems rather cruel to stop at your hip and not help you with the rest of your scar tissue if I am able.”
No, what’s cruel is multiple surgeries on my dick. “Anders didn’t say anything about any of this.”
“He might have handled this a little differently.” Tapping her chin, she continues, “It’s possible you would’ve woken up with a fully functioning penis, and he’d have just been standing there, doing that shrug emoji thing he does when he’s asking for forgiveness instead of permission.”
Nice to see that he’s at least consistent. I roll my eyes. “That sounds about right.”
Fine.Fine. Hell, what’s one more person knowing about my dick. I close my eyes, trying to remember that I’m just a guy, sitting in front of my laptop, talking about my junk. And that’s what it is.Junk. “What was the question?”
“Do you have any sexual function?”
