475-477

Chapter 475: The Charm of Contrast 

Medical Center 

Green Clinic  

“Adam, you’re taking on Mrs. Kimberly Griswold’s case,” Leonard said with a nod. “She’s got a history of heart issues and has had multiple surgeries here. This time, she’s in for a coronary bypass.”  

“Him? Isn’t he a little young for that?” The old woman on the bed paused mid-lipstick application, peering at Adam through her handheld mirror. She frowned, sizing him up. “Is he actually a doctor? Or some actor? You’re not filming a TV show here, are you? I mean, I love watching Our Days—Dr. Drake Lamoray is adorable—but I need a real doctor right now. I wouldn’t trust Lamoray to treat me…”  

“Kimberly, let the doctors do their job,” the elderly man standing beside her cut in.  

She shot her husband a glare that could’ve melted steel. He clammed up instantly.  

“Mrs. Griswold,” Leonard said with a reassuring smile, “Dr. Duncan here is our top intern—and honestly, the best in the whole country. You’re in good hands with him.”  

“Best or not, he’s still an intern,” she muttered, pursing her lips.  

Leonard turned to Adam. “Anything special to note about Mrs. Griswold’s surgery?”  

Adam nodded confidently. “Since she’s had multiple heart surgeries, there’s a lot of scar tissue, and her heart’s too weak to restart if we stop it. So, we’ll stabilize the area we’re working on, use local anesthesia, and let the rest of her heart keep beating.”  

“Nice work,” Leonard said, grinning. “Take her for a nuclear scan first. If everything checks out, we’ll do the surgery this afternoon.”  

“Yes, Dr. Green,” Adam replied with a quick nod.  

“This room’s kinda small,” Mrs. Griswold grumbled. “And it’s not as bright as last time. Allen, grab me a pillow to lean on! The water’s lukewarm—add some ice. Open the curtains; it’s stuffy in here. What’s this? Where’s that new nightgown I bought? Hand me some tissues—no, wait, hospitals are full of germs. Get the hand sanitizer from my suitcase instead.”  

Once Leonard left, she started barking orders at her poor husband, Allen, like he was her personal assistant.  

Watching this, Adam couldn’t help but think of The Big Bang Theory—Amy’s dad sneaking around to avoid her mom, even making that hilarious “hanging himself” face behind her back. It didn’t show much, but you could feel it. And now? This was the full-on, live-action version.  

Henpecked husbands are universal, huh? Adam thought with a smirk.  

“Mrs. Griswold, ready for that nuclear scan?” he asked, throwing a sympathetic glance at Allen as he interrupted her tirade.  

“Fine, whatever,” she said with a shrug.  

Adam wheeled her toward the scan room, Allen trailing behind.  

“Allen, watch where you’re going—you’re bumping my chair!”  

“Sorry,” he mumbled.  

“Allen, hold my purse properly!”  

“Got it.”  

“Don’t rummage through it!”  

“Okay.”  

When they reached the scan room, the staff took over the wheelchair.  

“Phew,” Allen let out a long breath, turning to Adam. “She’s never heard of ‘please’ or ‘thank you,’ you know.”  

Adam just smiled, keeping it neutral.  

But Allen wasn’t done. “For years, I’ve tried to get her to chill out, but she just keeps yapping. Everyone thought she wouldn’t make it past her first surgery. Three operations and ten years later, here she is, still kicking. Heh…” He chuckled, but it was the tired, helpless kind. Adam noticed him glance back nervously, like he was scared she’d overhear.  

“They say it’s a miracle she’s still alive…”  

“What do you think?” Adam cut in.  

“Uh, well, vows say ‘in sickness and in health,’ right?” Allen gave a self-deprecating laugh.  

“Mr. Griswold, why don’t you take a break for a bit?” Adam suggested. “We’ll catch up later.”  

“Oh, uh, sure.” Allen blinked, realizing he might’ve overshared with his wife’s doctor, and nodded quickly.  

Adam gave him a friendly smile and headed off. The staff would let him know when the scan was done.  

Pat-reon: belamy20  

“Dr. Duncan!” A young nurse waved him over.  

“Hey, Mary, what’s up?” Adam asked, strolling up with a grin.  

“You haven’t heard?” She leaned in, eyes sparkling with gossip. “We’ve got a pregnant man in the hospital. Everyone’s rushing over to gawk!”  

“A man? Pregnant?” Adam laughed, then paused, thinking. “Unless…”  

“It’s real!” Mary insisted. “His belly’s as big as his wife’s, and the pregnancy test came back positive!”  

“One of Dr. Yang’s cases?” Adam guessed. Only something that weird would get Cristina so fired up.  

“Nope,” Mary said, shaking her head. “Get this: the intern at registration sent him straight to psych without even checking him out. Then Dr. Yang swooped in, snatched him from psych, and now psych’s docs are fighting to get him back. It’s a total tug-of-war!”  

“Which room?” Adam’s curiosity piqued.  

“Room 12,” Mary said instantly.  

“Thanks, Mary! I owe you a treat next time,” Adam said with a laugh, heading off as she beamed at him.  

Click! Click!  

By the time Adam got to Room 12, a crowd of doctors and nurses had already gathered outside, craning their necks to peek in. Camera shutters snapped from inside.  

Adam was about to push through when Cristina stormed out, brushing past him with an eye roll and a scowl, clutching her beeping pager. Clearly, someone needed her now.  

He squeezed through the crowd and stepped inside. On the bed lay a young guy, his belly swollen like a woman about to pop. Medical staff were snapping photos, while Izzie and Meredith flanked him, leaning into the lens with practiced smiles.  

“Steven, run a full workup, including tumor tests,” Dr. Bailey barked, then turned. “Grey, your pager’s going off—move it!”  

As the two scurried off, Bailey casually grabbed a ruler and measured the man’s belly, all business. When the camera clicked again, she smoothly turned her head, locking into a pro-level pose—perfectly natural, perfectly framed.  

Izzie and Meredith’s stiff smiles didn’t stand a chance against that level of skill.  

Adam couldn’t help but grin. These photos—thanks to the guy’s bizarre “pregnancy”—were guaranteed to land in the hospital’s medical journal, case reports, maybe even the annual conference. It was a golden ticket to shine in the medical world.  

Seeing Bailey, the moral rock of the hospital, pull off such a slick move with that adorable contrast? Priceless.  

P.S.: Thanks to “DefectivePhone” for the tip!  

Chapter 476: Predestination 

Ward Room.  

Adam strolled over, taking a close look.  

“Duncan, what’s your take?” 

Dr. Bailey glanced up at him.  

“Probably not pregnant,” Adam said, examining the patient. “Not just fat either. Most likely a tumor—teratoma, to be exact!”  

“A teratoma? At his age and gender?” 

Dr. Bailey blinked, caught off guard.  

“Yeah, it’s rare,” Adam said with a chuckle. “But still more likely than him being pregnant, right?”  

“I’m not pregnant?” 

The man with the swollen belly protested. “But the pregnancy test came back positive! I’ve done it at home a bunch of times too—all positive!”  

To him, being pregnant beat being labeled a nutcase. Doing what others couldn’t was a flex, after all.  

“Pregnancy tests work by detecting hCG in a woman’s urine,” Adam explained. “That hormone isn’t exclusive to pregnancy, though. A teratoma’s a big ol’ clump of growing cells—kinda like a fetus—and it can release hCG too, tricking the test into a false positive.”  

“A fetus? So I am pregnant?” the man yelped.  

“Similar, but not quite,” Adam corrected. “It’s a tumor at its core. It’s called a teratoma because it mimics some fetal traits.”  

“You sure?” 

The man stared at his bulging stomach, his expression a mix of hope and dread.  

“Nope,” Adam said, shaking his head. “Without a detailed report, no one can be 100% sure.”  

“Any other possibilities?” 

The man’s wife, also sporting a big belly, couldn’t help but ask.  

“Yeah,” Adam said, launching into some wild Predestination-style brainstorming.  

Every head in the room swiveled toward him.  

Click! Click! 

This time, a bunch of the watching doctors whipped out their cameras.  

Imagine this: a guy who could time-travel, forming his own closed loop. Talk about mind-blowing!  

Leonard Cooper, you should thank your lucky stars your dad Sheldon didn’t have a binge-eating habit. Otherwise, you’d be looking at Sheldon 2.0 instead of existing yourself!  

“Mr. Herman clearly hasn’t had gender reassignment surgery,” Adam said, letting his imagination run wild while grinning. “So, teratoma’s still the top bet.”  

Mrs. Herman’s pregnancy might not prove much, but with so many doctors eyeballing Mr. Herman in his hospital gown, there’s no way a sex-change op could slip past all these pros unnoticed.  

“Dr. Bailey, the CT machine’s booked. We can head over now,” Liz said, hanging up the phone with a pumped-up vibe.  

“Alright,” Bailey nodded.  

CT Room.  

“Hey, gang, I lost a bet with a colleague, so I’m stuck doing his scan. Beers tonight are on me too,” a chubby girl said, laughing as she sat at the computer. “Next bet: what’s in this guy’s belly? Wanna play? 10 bucks a pop!”  

“Teratoma!” Liz shot her hand up.  

“Me too!”  

“Same here!”  

All the doctors who’d heard Adam’s breakdown jumped on the teratoma train. They trusted his call—and who’d pass up easy money?  

“…” 

The chubby girl froze. What the heck? If you all bet the same thing, who’s gonna take the other side?  

“I’ll play banker and bet against you all,” Adam said with a grin. “I’m going with a fetus in Mr. Herman’s belly.”  

Now it was everyone else’s turn to look dumbfounded.  

“Adam, what’s that supposed to mean?” Liz asked, baffled. “You said it’s not ascites, not fat—the big odds are on teratoma, like you explained. Why’re you betting against us with ‘fetus’?”  

“‘Cause I want it to be a fetus,” Adam said, laughing. “If it’s not, you guys win, and we all have a good laugh. But if it is a fetus? That’s a medical miracle. Even if you lose, you won’t care—you’ll have witnessed history!”  

Liz and the others got it instantly. Adam was a billionaire; he didn’t give a rip about pocket change. He genuinely wanted to see a medical marvel unfold—pat-reon:belamy20.  

“I’m in!”  

“Count me too!”  

“Can we up the stakes?”  

The docs got hyped, some shameless ones even trying to raise the bet.  

“Heh,” Adam shot them a look.  

A little fun betting on a miracle? Sure, call it a mini bonus for the crew. But actually trying to hustle cash off him? That’s just insulting his IQ.  

“Just kidding!” the bold one said, backing off with an awkward laugh.  

“It’s up!” Liz called out.  

All eyes snapped to the screen as Mr. Herman’s abdominal CT scan popped up.  

“OMG!” the chubby girl gasped.  

“Ew—is that teeth?” Liz grimaced.  

“Lots of bilobed cystic damage, calcifications, an undeveloped jawbone,” Adam said, studying the scan. “Too bad it’s not fully formed—no hair, skin, or nerve tissue.”  

“Huh?” 

A less-savvy doctor blinked, not quite following.  

“Teratomas come in benign and malignant flavors,” Adam explained. “Benign ones usually have a mix of tissues. Malignant ones, like this, are poorly differentiated—barely any formed structures.”  

“Ohhh,” the doc finally clicked.  

Malignant tumor? Not exactly good news.  

“Alright, now that we’ve confirmed it’s a malignant teratoma,” Liz said, clapping her hands, “surgery’s next. Anyone wanna watch from the gallery? 50 bucks a seat!”  

“What the—?!” 

The doctors bristled. The gallery’s supposed to be free for all—why the steep price tag?  

“This surgery’s one Christina snatched from Psych,” Liz said, standing her ground. “She’s stuck doing grunt work as punishment now. If any of you wanna help her out with the dirty jobs, your seat’s free. Otherwise, pay up—limited spots, first come, first served!”  

“Fine, I’m in.”  

“Cash only, right?”  

“You guys aren’t doctors—you’re hustlers! Here!”  

“We’re earning it fair and square—what’s wrong with that?”  

“…”  

Adam’s lip twitched as he watched Liz turn into a money-making machine, raking in cash like a pro. These folks sure know how to play the game!  

He also figured out why Christina, who’d nabbed the surgery, was sidelined. Too clever for her own good—she’d outsmarted herself right into a corner.  

Chapter 477: Twisted Hierarchy 

Noon 

Cafeteria  

“…135, 155, 175… 485!”  

Izzie was gleefully counting a fat stack of cash, her eyes practically sparkling.  

“You guys are the worst,” George grumbled, glaring at her with envy. “A pregnant man, and you didn’t even tell me?”  

“It’s a teratoma, not a pregnancy!” Izzie corrected him, rolling her eyes. “Cristina’s the one who said to keep it quiet. You were so eager during rounds—didn’t you notice we all played dumb? You didn’t seriously think we had no clue, did you?”  

“…”  

George had no comeback.  

Sure, he could buy Izzie and Meredith not knowing. But Cristina? The queen of quick answers? She was the sharpest surgical intern after Adam. If he could figure something out, there’s no way she’d miss it.  

Still, he couldn’t blame himself entirely. During rounds, he usually faded into the background. Either Cristina swooped in with the first answer, or Dr. Shepherd picked Meredith. Now, with Dr. Montgomery joining the mix and eyeing Izzie for her supposed pediatric knack, George—the lone guy in their little quartet—was left with zero dignity or spotlight.  

So this morning, when all three of his female colleagues blanked out and every eye turned to him, he’d puffed up his chest, riding a rare wave of pride. Totally normal reaction, right?  

Emmm. Maybe it was his last shred of testosterone kicking in. Or maybe it was to give his wild fantasies—y’know, the ones where he, Meredith, Izzie, and Cristina all got sweaty together—some kind of real-world footing.  

Yup!  

Even if everyone, including Meredith and the gang, treated him like their gay bestie, George O’Malley was a man’s man! His fantasies of group “exercise” weren’t going anywhere!  

Too bad the last time he indulged in that daydream, he got hit with a dose of reality—Meredith, Izzie, and Cristina pinning him down for a shot of antivenom, laughing their heads off. Not quite the steamy scene he’d pictured.  

And now? He’d eaten another loss. Strutting his stuff during rounds only to miss out on this epic case. Nothing like he’d imagined—again.  

“They didn’t tell me either,” Adam chimed in, strolling over with his tray and a grin. “You didn’t know and didn’t ask. I did ask, and they guarded it like I was a thief.”  

“Heh heh.” Izzie giggled, stroking her wad of cash smugly.  

“If I were you, I’d stash that dirty money quick,” Adam teased. “People are gonna get jealous.”  

“Dirty money? This is honest cash!” Izzie huffed, but after a quick glance at the envious stares around her, she stuffed it into her pocket anyway.  

“So, who’s handling Mr. Herman—you or Meredith?” Adam asked casually, digging into his food. Unlike Sheldon or Leonard, he could eat and chat without choking.  

“You’re passing on it?” Izzie’s face lit up.  

Normally, that’d be settled by now. But this case? Totally different vibe. The room was a circus—doctors everywhere, even the surgical chief hovering. Everyone wanted a front-row seat to this freakshow.  

The so-called “primary intern” title was a joke. Who’d dare boss around residents, attendings, and the chief?  

Well, maybe Adam. But Cristina—the obvious pick—got stuck with grunt work as punishment. Izzie and Meredith, who’d been there from the start, were just Bailey’s errand girls, no official assignment yet.  

If Bailey weren’t so upright, Izzie bet she’d hog the whole case herself.  

So, with no surgery scheduled yet, it was still up in the air who’d scrub in.  

“I’ve got a heart surgery this afternoon,” Adam said with a sigh.  

If it didn’t clash, he’d be all over this rare teratoma case. But Mrs. Griswold’s local-anesthesia heart procedure was just as unique—and Leonard would definitely let him take the lead. Compared to trailing the chief and playing gofer, Adam was sticking with the heart.  

Oh, and this teratoma extraction? The surgical chief couldn’t resist jumping in himself. Good luck stealing that from him!  

Bang!  

Cristina stormed over, slamming her tray on the table and shoveling food into her mouth.  

“What’re you staring at? I’m starving!” she snapped, glaring at everyone’s raised eyebrows.  

“Eww, is that… rectal exam lube on your shirt?” Izzie wrinkled her nose at the greasy spot on Cristina’s chest.  

Cristina glanced down, then at Izzie’s disgusted face. Her morning flashed before her eyes, and she snapped. Her glare turned lethal.  

“Yeah, so what? Never used it? Never been used?”  

“What?!” Izzie’s jaw dropped, her smile freezing.  

“What, too loud in Mr. Herman’s room? Hearing shot already?” Cristina exploded. “Guess what I’ve been doing all morning? Two wound infections, one catheter, one groin abscess, four debridements, five explosive diarrheas. This lube you’re grossed out by? It’s nothing!”  

Izzie’s sass evaporated, replaced by a pitying look.  

“I’m Bailey’s best intern! I found Mr. Herman! I stole him from psych!” Cristina ranted, her voice rising. “Why am I the only one getting punished?!”  

“Didn’t Bailey secretly praise us, though?” Izzie offered weakly.  

Sure, Bailey chewed them out publicly for snagging the case from psych, but behind closed doors, she’d given them props.  

“I think she knows about me and Burke,” Cristina muttered, deflating.  

“Oh, well, that’s on you then,” Izzie said, perking up. “Meredith got punished by Bailey too. That’s what you get for dating attendings.”  

“Shh!” Cristina hushed her, darting a look around. “Keep it quiet—I don’t want to end up like Meredith.”  

“You and Burke are back together?” Adam asked, surprised.  

“He found out about… y’know, from somewhere. Came crawling back,” Cristina said, gauging their reactions. “Said he wants to keep going. I didn’t say no.”  

“Y’know” meant her ectopic pregnancy—Burke’s mess that nearly killed her. Sure, he chased power like the chief, but he wasn’t as cold as Richard. Hearing about it (from a certain little bird), he felt awful for dumping her back then.  

George buried his face in his food.  

“It was you, George!” Cristina zeroed in on him.  

“It’s not my fault!” George mumbled, sheepish. “Burke said I’m his right-hand man…”  

“Ha!” Adam couldn’t hold back a laugh.  

Hospital hierarchy was brutal. Interns lived for a scrap of praise from their superiors—“You’re my guy,” “You’re my people.” Some rougher attendings even tossed out, “You’re my bitch.” Crude? Sure. But every intern, guy or girl, secretly craved it. Some even said it first: “I’m your bitch.”  

Take Chandler back in his IT days. His boss loved smacking the butts of his favorite underlings, praising their work. At first, Chandler hated it—called the guy out, risked pissing him off. But when the boss stopped, only smacking his coworkers, Chandler… missed it.  

The boss, wise to it all, grinned and asked if he still wanted out. Chandler hesitated, then practically skipped over for a solid whack—back in the boss’s good graces.