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From: pariswaterman3399@my-deja.com
Subject: {ASSM} Repost:Recolections From a Diary, Chap.2
Date: Thu, 18 Jan 2001 09:10:03 -0500
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Recollections From a Diary

By Paris Waterman
Copyright 1999, 2000, 2001

Chapter Two

Catching Up


I woke up early the next morning to the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

Throwing on a robe, I wandered into the breakfast area and found Julie
pouring orange juice and coffee for the two of us.

"Good morning," she said.

"I hope you slept well. I know I did." Julie giggled.

She waved her free hand, "I must have slept half the night on the
bathroom floor."

"Oh . . ." I replied. "I'm so sorry. I would have wakened you, but you
looked so comfortable there I . . . I didn't have the heart too."

"No problem," she smiled, showing off a brilliant set of teeth.

"I haven't slept that well in ages. Last night was . . . wonderful. Can
you imagine? We went at it right through the worst storm in 30 years."

Too amplify her point she handed me the morning paper, whose headline
echoed her statement.

I sat down beside Julie and gazed out the window at an ocean the color
of lead and a sky the color of smoke. Reaching for my cup, I gingerly
took a first sip of my coffee. It tasted great.

A television announcer wearing a ridiculous plaid jacket blared that
another storm might be closing in on us. I tuned him out and turned my
attention back to Julie, sighing inwardly as I recalled the pyrotechnic
lovemaking of the previous night.

Julie's robe unfolded as she leaned over to pour herself a second cup
of coffee and revealed a half-exposed breast to me. I yearned to suckle
it. It had been a long time since we'd been together. Julie seemed to
sense my desire and closed the robe, knowing we had other things to
catch up on. I smiled to myself. We were both practical women.

Over bacon and eggs, I inquired into how Julie's law career was moving
along.

"Ah, right," she said. "We didn't chat very much last night did we?"

"Unfortunately no. But, then again, the weather delayed my arrival.
Huh,I nearly canceled out. Or to put it in the proper perspective, I
almost cancelled out. The rain, or should I say flooding, damn near
swept me off the road more than once."

"Yeah, I thought you were a little more enthusiastic when you arrived
than you usually are."

"Bite me," I said smiling as I reverted to a favorite slang expression
of our younger days.

"Listen Julie, have you got something for this?" and I revealed my back
to her.

"My God! Did I do that?"

I nodded.

She rose and went to a cabinet in the kitchen.

"Let's try this ointment, it's pretty good."

I examined the label and nodded my approval again. Then I relinquished
the tube back to her.

As Julie applied it to my back I began to inquire about her career.

"So tell me Julie," I said for openers, "what kind of cases have you
been handling lately?"

I wanted to get her career out of the way quickly in order to wow her
with my recent accomplishment. I loved her dearly, but still, I wanted
to blow her away.

"Yes, well," she frowned and rubbed her hands on a kitchen towel before
continuing.  "Sidney's been referring certain types of criminal law
cases to me that his firm, err . . . doesn't want to be associated
with."

"How so?" I asked.

"At the moment I'm defending a man charged with being a pederast."

"Ooooh!" I exclaimed. "Now that's fascinating."

"Ouch!" I thought, that's not very diplomatic. "Get with it girl," I
chided myself. Quickly moving to correct any mistake in my meaning, I
continued, "Sorry, I mean challenging. That's a far better choice of
words."

"Oh I know what you mean alright." Julie said, clearly wrapped up in
presenting the facts to me as dramatically as possible.

"I wouldn't have taken the case except for the money. The guy's loaded.
I received a $200,000 retainer up front." Julie began to drum her
fingers nervously on the table. Apparently she was wondering how much I
should be told.

"He's a fastidious person on the surface, but I get the creeps just
being in the same room with him. I mean, this guy's been preying on
kids for years. He knows he's going away," she caught herself and
stopped the drumming.

I interrupted Julie to say, "How can you be so sure? I mean, didn't
Michael Jackson get away with something like that a few years back?"

"Yes he did, or so it seemed. He bought his way out of trouble. The
kid's parents took the money and ran. Jackson sequestered himself from
the public. Although, and this is a real shame, he's been known to have
a kid as his 'guest' once in a while."

Julie stood up and began pacing about ten feet away from me. She donned
her court room demeanor, and continued.

"The preponderance of evidence is overwhelming, against him. That's a
given. It can't be avoided. It can't be diminished in any way.  So my
real job here is to minimize the length of time he spends in the
penitentiary. Perhaps negotiate a kinder, gentler site in which he'll
while away his sentence."

She sighed and smiled, "All in all I should walk away with about
$300,000 for two months work."

"Big bucks," I conceded, "but what about your reputation?"

Crossing my legs, I asked, "And how many cases like this do you handle
a year?"

"If I'm lucky, three. But then, there are others that fit in along the
way. You know $5,000 here, $8,000 there. Ahh, what the hell, last year
I grossed $725,000."

I beamed my best smile at her.

"As to my reputation," she said resuming the drumming of her fingers on
the table, "well, the public have a history of short memories. Anyway
someone's got to provide a defense for these creeps."

"You're right," I offered.

"Not bad for a cute blonde from Madison, New Jersey," I added laughing.

"While we're at it, what did Sidney pull in?"

"My, aren't we being nosey today," Julie smiled.

"Well since I'm going to turn your brain inside out in a minute, I'll
tell you. Sidney grossed $3,200,000 last year. It was a typical year
for him."

"Wow!" I was truly surprised. I knew there was a money-tree growing
here, but hadn't thought of it in that size.

"Julie, I have to hand it to you. You've made the big time."

"Thank you. I recall how competitive we were back at Columbia. We were
both going to be zillionaires, remember?"

Julie crossed her legs, then uncrossed them before rising and going
over to the refrigerator.

"Want some OJ?"

"Yes please, that would be nice," and I accepted the half filled glass
and sipped from it before I started bringing her up to date on my
personal history.

My moment of moments was at hand.

"Okay, okay, Rach. Now it's your turn. It's been six years since we've
really touched base."

I smiled broadly and said,"We touched more than a few bases last night
my love."

"Come on, I'm an attorney, I recognize a diversionary tactic when I see
one."

"Okay, but remember you asked for it. This might take a while."

"Hey, we've got hours. Get it on girl," she said, casually brushing a
hand through her blonde locks.

"Right. So where do I begin? I've been a very busy girl these last few
years. Let's see you know I finished my internship after transferring
from Columbia to Johns Hopkins in Baltimore."

"Oh yes," she nodded affirmatively and leaned closer.

"Well, I put in another year there at the Department of Pharmacology,
then I interned in Medicine, at Mt. Zion Hospital and Medical Center in
San Francisco, for two years.

Julie's face reflected puzzlement, so I tried to explain, "Somehow, I
don't know why exactly, I decided to switch coasts. Anyway, next I
completed my residency at the Department of Neurology, University of
California."

I paused and took a long drink of my juice.

"That swallowed up another two years."

Julie was hanging on my every word, I moved in for the kill.

"At this point I had quite a few offers, some very interesting offers
lay there on the table, but one of them appealed to me far more than
the rest."

Julie was on the edge of her seat by now. Her head bobbed up and down
as though asking, "Yes? Yes? Yes?"

I surged forward.

"I accepted the offer from the Mayo Clinic because it would not only
permit me to serve under one of the foremost neurosurgeons in the
world, but would also permit me to continue my medical education. My
primary specialty was to be in movement disorders, but ranked closely
behind that were other specialties in: Huntington's Disease,
Parkinson's Disease, Tourette's Syndrome, tremor, and dystonia."

I took a deep breath and continued.

"It took an enormous effort, but now I'm also a certified
Psychologist."

Julie's hands were over her eyes, as if to say, "I don't believe this."

"I've become deeply involved in several areas of research.
Specifically, Tourette's Syndrome, Aging, and Alzheimer's Disease."

"Jesus!" Julie spat out. "You're a veritable tour de force! How in the
hell did you manage all that? Each field would appear to be
carnivorous,eating up your time."

"They are and do. That's why you haven't heard or seen much of me all
this time. But, and this is important . . . Here's why I believe it's
all worth while. There are maybe six people in the world with my
credentials."

"Now, I'm only making maybe $120,000 or so at the moment. And I'm still
paying my educational bills. I'll be doing that for several more years,
but . . ." I shifted in my chair and changed direction, "Hell, I never
go anywhere or do anything. I really don't have a life outside the
medical field. But, thanks to Dr.Ergstrom at Mayo, I'm the lead med-
person searching for the gene responsible for Tourette's Syndrome."

Are you familiar with it?" I asked.

"To some extent I am," she replied. "It's a neurological disorder
characterized by tics -- involuntary, tics and sudden vocalizations."

"Very good." I said, somewhat taken aback at Julie's knowledge of this
rather obscure disease. Gulping a breath, I continued. "So we've got a
diagnostic criteria which include both multiple motor and one or more
vocal tics present at some time, although not necessarily
simultaneously. Symptoms for TS are sporadic, sometimes disappearing
for weeks or months at a time."

Realizing Julie's full attention was focused on me I roared ahead.
"It hits most people before they reach 18. Although the word
"involuntary" is used to describe the nature of the tics, it's not
entirely accurate. It wouldn't be true to say that people with TS have
absolutely no control over their tics, as though it's some type of
spasm; it's more compelling in nature. People with TS feel an
irresistible urge to perform their tics, much like you need to scratch
a mosquito bite. Some people are able to hold back their tics for hours
at a time, but this only leads to a stronger outburst once they finally
let go."

"Coprolalia, the cursing, or racial epithets associated with TS are
not, or do not have to be exclusively swear words. Many times
coprolalia manifests itself as an overwhelming urge to use a racial
epithet, even though that's the last thing the patient wants to do.
Something about the "forbiddingness" of it impels a person with
coprolalia to say it, seemingly against their will."

I paused, then continued. "Now I'm to my neck in research, hoping to
find a solution to TS."

I looked at Julie, scratched my head and said, "We know it's
genetically transmitted. Parents have a 50% chance of passing the gene
on to their children. Girls with the gene have a 70% chance of
displaying symptoms. Boys with the gene have a 99% chance of displaying
symptoms."

"Unfortunately these studies have taken a great deal of time in the
past. I . . . we, closely examined previous research. Nothing appeared
to have worked as effectively as flaxseed oil. Keep in mind, though,
that Tourette's Syndrome is a symptom with many causes. What works for
one child may not work for another. The reason flaxseed works is
probably because it increases a substance called EPA which increases
the good kind of prostaglandin. The prostaglandin definitely decreases
the body's inflammatory reaction. You can only imagine what kind of
havoc inflammation plays in the brain."

I sensed I might be losing Julie here and paused. She surprised me by
gesturing for me to continue.

"Well, there is also a bad kind of prostaglandin, I call it bad for
practical purposes, it serves a useful purpose by increasing the
blood's clotting ability. Anyway, there appear to be a greater number
of people responding to this treatment who associate worsening symptoms
with virus and other infections like strep, allergy, and hormonal
changes. I asked myself what connection might all of these have with
bad prostaglandin?

"My guess was that the body increases the bad kind of prostaglandin
when threatened with any kind of immune insult. Anyway, we're on the
threshold of a major breakthrough. Merck, you know Merck?"

Julie tossed her blonde mane back over her shoulder and gave an
affirmative shake of the head.

"Merck is cutting me in on one third of the profit for developing a
successful medication. No. I've phrased that poorly. They've picked up
extensive research costs. I've provided the brainpower.  I have agreed
to provide them with an exclusive use of the final product."

"As you're so fond of saying, the bottom line for me with respect to a
viable solution to TS will be in the area of $3 Million. Oh yeah, when
this research is completed I'll sign on with Merck and tour the world
treating Tourette's Syndrome patients both mentally and physically
wherever I find them."

"Now in between, I operate on a minimum of four patients a week, just
to keep up with the latest in neurosurgery techniques."

 "My God," Julie said, "you're unbelievable."

"Well Julie, remember we wanted to be the best in our fields as kids."

"Yeah, but that was mostly wishful thinking. Jeez, Rach, you've
overachieved."

I decided to ignore that last comment and continued my story.

"Well, needless to say, I need this break desperately."

"Shit, Julie, I nearly forgot, my husband,this is my second husband,
Arthur's his name. I believe you and Sidney met Brad. What a wuss he
turned out to be. Well, that's not exactly true. He was all right; it
was just that he couldn't keep up with me. Naw, I'm not being fair
again. I had to let him go, my schedule made marriage to him an
impossibility."

I let go with a deep sigh. "He had an eight inch dick on him. Thick
too. He was my personal dildo for a year."

Julie laughed and scratched her leg.

"So, she said, "Tell me about Arthur."

"Arthur and I got married last year. He's in banking in Minneapolis.
Does alright I suppose. I don't pry into his business and he has little
or no idea what I'm up to. We schedule our sexual activities every
Sunday night based upon our upcoming schedules." I sighed, "He's not
that demanding."

"Oh, poor baby," Julie cooed.

I got up and walked to the window and took in the panoramic view. There
wasn't any. It was still a virtual wall of grayness outside, but
looking out I was able to watch as a flock of pelicans glided past,
forty or fifty feet below me. I continued to watch, enthralled as they
wove their way until they were absorbed in the grayness.

"To quench my sexual appetite, I pick on the occasional intern. They're
usually horny, and almost as pressed for time as I am."

"Now I'm getting horny," Julie volunteered. "What about you Hon? Or
would you prefer to go shopping?"

"Shopping sounds good to me. I'll let you buy me something gaudy with
all that money you're making from dirty old men."

"You're on." She laughed and stood up.

"I know a great place to have lunch. The staff is male. And with this
rain . . . well, they meet you with an umbrella . . . Did I tell you
they're all bodybuilders and they wear tight, tight clothes. If you tip
them well, they'll let you cop a feel . . . it's positively perverse."

I laughed and asked her who'll defend her in court when she's up for
fondling a minor.

Julie smirked, and the expression died upon her face as she exclaimed,
"My God! I almost forgot the damn thing again . . . I promised myself
not to do it again. Just a minute Rach, I'll be right back."

Julie hopped out of the room as she tried to fully insert her foot in
one of her mules. A minute later she returned carrying a large box with
the brand name 'Tide' on the two sides that I could see. Julie dropped
the box at my feet.

"Do you remember this box?"

"I don't think so," I replied.

"Well, I've lugged this damn box around for twelve years. It's been
through five moves. Last year I finally peeked inside and discovered
it's your stuff. I knew it as soon as I . . . wait a sec . . ." Bending
over she reached inside the box and came up smiling lewdly as she
produced a Barbi doll.

"Jesus!" I said, jerking forward to obtain a closer look.

"Is that . . .?"

"Yes, Rach," she shrieked and jumped up and down. "It's your 'Special
Barbi' hey, it was even my special Barbi on occasion."

Continued

Write me at:
the_panda@hotmail


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