Read Online Old Man's War Boxed Set 1 by John Scalzi - Free Book Online
Authors: John Scalzi
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testicular cancer.”
“Excuse me?” I said.
Dr. Russell flipped the PDA screen around again; this time it was showing a false-color representation of my genitals. It was the first time I’d ever had my own package waved in front of my face. “Here,” he said, pointing to a dark spot on my left testicle. “There’s the nodule. Pretty big sucker, too. It’s cancer, all right.”
I glared at the man. “You know, Dr. Russell, most doctors would have found a more tactful way to break the news.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Perry,” Dr. Russell said. “I don’t want to seem unconcerned. But it’s really not a problem. Even on Earth, testicular cancer is easily treatable, particularly in the early stages, which is the case here. At the very worst, you’d lose the testicle, but that’s not a significant setback.”
“Unless you happen to own the testicle,” I growled.
“That’s more of a psychological issue,” Dr. Russell said. “In any event, right here and right now, I don’t want you to worry about it. In a couple of days you’ll be getting a comprehensive physical overhaul, and we’ll deal with your testicle then. In the meantime, there should be no problems. The cancer is still local to the testicle. It hasn’t spread to the lungs or the lymph nodes. You’re fine.”
“Am I going to drop the ball?” I said.
Dr. Russell smiled. “I think you can hold on to the ball for now,” he said. “Should you ever drop it, I suspect it will be the least of your concerns. Now, other than the cancer, which as I say isn’t really problematic, you’re in as good a shape as any man of your physical age could be. That’s good news; we don’t have to do anything else to you at this point.”
“What would you do if you’d found something really wrong?” I asked. “I mean, what if the cancer had been terminal?”
“‘Terminal’ is a pretty imprecise term, Mr. Perry,” Dr. Russell said. “In the long run, we’re all terminal cases. In the case of this examination, what we’re really looking to do is to stabilize any recruits who are in imminent danger, so we know they’ll make it through the next few days. The case of your unfortunate roommate Mr. Deak isn’t all that unusual. We have a lot of recruits who make it to this point just to die before assessment. That’s not good for any of us.”
Dr. Russell consulted his PDA. “Now, in the case of Mr. Deak, who died of a heart attack, what we probably would have done would be to remove the plaque buildup from his arteries and provide him with an arterial wall-strengthening compound to prevent ruptures. That’s our most common treatment. Most seventy-five-year-old arteries can use some propping up. In your case, if you had had advanced stage cancer, we would have trimmed back the tumors to a point where they didn’t pose an imminent threat to your vital functions, and shored up the affected regions to make sure you wouldn’t have any problems over the next few days.”
“Why wouldn’t you cure it?” I asked. “If you can ‘shore up’ an affected region, it sounds like you could probably fix it completely if you wanted to.”
“We can, but it’s not necessary,” Dr. Russell said. “You’ll be getting a more comprehensive overhaul in a couple of days. We just need to keep you going until then.”
“What does ‘comprehensive overhaul’ mean, anyway?” I said.
“It means that when it’s done, you’ll wonder why you ever worried about a spot of cancer on your testicle,” he said. “That’s a promise. Now, there’s one more thing we need to do here. Bring your head forward, please.”
I did. Dr. Russell reached up and brought the feared arm cup down directly on the top of my head. “During the next couple of days, it’s going to be important for us to get a good picture of your brain activity,” he said, moving back. “So to do this, I’m going to implant a sensor array into your skull.” As he said this, he tapped the
“Excuse me?” I said.
Dr. Russell flipped the PDA screen around again; this time it was showing a false-color representation of my genitals. It was the first time I’d ever had my own package waved in front of my face. “Here,” he said, pointing to a dark spot on my left testicle. “There’s the nodule. Pretty big sucker, too. It’s cancer, all right.”
I glared at the man. “You know, Dr. Russell, most doctors would have found a more tactful way to break the news.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Perry,” Dr. Russell said. “I don’t want to seem unconcerned. But it’s really not a problem. Even on Earth, testicular cancer is easily treatable, particularly in the early stages, which is the case here. At the very worst, you’d lose the testicle, but that’s not a significant setback.”
“Unless you happen to own the testicle,” I growled.
“That’s more of a psychological issue,” Dr. Russell said. “In any event, right here and right now, I don’t want you to worry about it. In a couple of days you’ll be getting a comprehensive physical overhaul, and we’ll deal with your testicle then. In the meantime, there should be no problems. The cancer is still local to the testicle. It hasn’t spread to the lungs or the lymph nodes. You’re fine.”
“Am I going to drop the ball?” I said.
Dr. Russell smiled. “I think you can hold on to the ball for now,” he said. “Should you ever drop it, I suspect it will be the least of your concerns. Now, other than the cancer, which as I say isn’t really problematic, you’re in as good a shape as any man of your physical age could be. That’s good news; we don’t have to do anything else to you at this point.”
“What would you do if you’d found something really wrong?” I asked. “I mean, what if the cancer had been terminal?”
“‘Terminal’ is a pretty imprecise term, Mr. Perry,” Dr. Russell said. “In the long run, we’re all terminal cases. In the case of this examination, what we’re really looking to do is to stabilize any recruits who are in imminent danger, so we know they’ll make it through the next few days. The case of your unfortunate roommate Mr. Deak isn’t all that unusual. We have a lot of recruits who make it to this point just to die before assessment. That’s not good for any of us.”
Dr. Russell consulted his PDA. “Now, in the case of Mr. Deak, who died of a heart attack, what we probably would have done would be to remove the plaque buildup from his arteries and provide him with an arterial wall-strengthening compound to prevent ruptures. That’s our most common treatment. Most seventy-five-year-old arteries can use some propping up. In your case, if you had had advanced stage cancer, we would have trimmed back the tumors to a point where they didn’t pose an imminent threat to your vital functions, and shored up the affected regions to make sure you wouldn’t have any problems over the next few days.”
“Why wouldn’t you cure it?” I asked. “If you can ‘shore up’ an affected region, it sounds like you could probably fix it completely if you wanted to.”
“We can, but it’s not necessary,” Dr. Russell said. “You’ll be getting a more comprehensive overhaul in a couple of days. We just need to keep you going until then.”
“What does ‘comprehensive overhaul’ mean, anyway?” I said.
“It means that when it’s done, you’ll wonder why you ever worried about a spot of cancer on your testicle,” he said. “That’s a promise. Now, there’s one more thing we need to do here. Bring your head forward, please.”
I did. Dr. Russell reached up and brought the feared arm cup down directly on the top of my head. “During the next couple of days, it’s going to be important for us to get a good picture of your brain activity,” he said, moving back. “So to do this, I’m going to implant a sensor array into your skull.” As he said this, he tapped the
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