"So Eric, how've you been?" asked Andre, my favorite trainer and the most outrageous flirt of them all. He was spotting me on the bench press and from my point of view -- well, let's just say I felt I could lift five tons.
"I've been working hard for the money, Andre. And speaking of, guess who came in as a new patient and asked for me? Tyler O'Brien." Andre practically murdered me as he slammed down the weights. Yup, he was impressed.
"You go! Eric, you serious?"
Tyler O'Brien was a major professional football player and had just gotten picked from his college as the No. 1 Draft. He was a sensation and among other things, looked like a Norse God-- black, twenty three, six foot seven, two hundred and fifty pounds, and built like a Clydesdale Stallion.
Jessica, another trainer, heard me mention Tyler's name and quickly blared "Eric Lewis -- you're amazing! Tyler O'Brien! My God, what I'd give for a date with Tyler O'Brien. Let me kiss your hand."
And she did. Then she and Andre drilled me for the rest of the workout. Andre offered me a free workout if I gave him Tyler's phone number, Jessica offered me a blow job.
And then they forced me to give them a detailed description of the exam.
"So, Mr. O'Brien... what seems to be the problem?"
He dropped his pants without missing a beat and pointed to his left knee. It was a mess. Incredibly swollen and puffy. I began the exam, feeling the kneecap for damage and the bones underneath.
Heat came off this guy's body like no one I'd ever met. He radiated it. I recommended extensive x-rays as I moved away from him and wrote a prescription for some mild pain killers. When I looked back, his pants were still around his ankles and I had a chance to see what kind of underwear he wore...
He didn't wear any.
I quickly looked back to my notes when he spoke again, "Doc -- you gotta make me better. I gotta game in a week and a half and the coach said I couldn't play if this kept up. Please Doc, help me out here. Can't you sign off on this?"
"Sorry, Tyler. You're in trouble with that knee and if I gave you a clean bill of health, I'd be getting sued by your Mom and Dad."
All sexual innuendo aside, I felt real sorry for the kid.
"Hey, look. Why don't I drain off some of the fluid around the kneecap. I can give you a clean grade to play in two weeks. But listen to me, Mr. O'Brien, you keep this up, this kind of wear and tear on a knee that looks like hamburger, you're gonna do permanent damage and you won't be playing Flag Football, let alone Pro Ball."
"I was hoping that it'd hold out till the end of the season. My Dad's pressuring me to be perfect in my first season." He paused. "Thanks, Dr. Lewis. I really owe you a lot."
I smiled.
I knew just how he could repay me, too.
But I just smiled.
Needless to say, Andre and Jessica were at a loss for words. And when Tyler had mentioned the pressure from his father -- it struck some feelings of pressure from my own parents.
I made the commitment once again to write "The Letter."
