Aside from a brief bout of nausea when he came home from the hospital last night, he felt fine. He’d slept like a log all night, Jenny being careful not to bump into him as she slept on her side of the bed, her back to him. She’d gotten up this morning to go to work—she worked as a cashier at Wal-Mart in Ephrata—and his mother was supposed to come over later this afternoon to help out around the house. Jenny had made him a ham and cheese sandwich and placed it, along with a banana and a pear, in his lunch box and placed it by the bed. He had a bottle of water with him, which he drank from constantly. He could hobble out of bed to the bathroom easy enough, although he had to take it slow. He was still rather stiff. He’d inspected himself briefly this morning; the doctors had dressed the wound with gauze and bandages and then bundled his private parts in a jock-strap and a cloth-like diaper. They wanted him to keep the jock strap and diaper on as much as possible for the next five days, then Dr. Schellenger would take a look at him Wednesday during his follow-up appointment. Michael was relieved the first time he felt his dick at the hospital when he took his first piss. He hadn’t dared touch his scrotum yet to see what it felt like after the surgery, but at least his dick was still there. Dr. Beck told him the day before that he would be able to function just fine sexually, but of course there could be side effects to the surgery. Michael didn’t care; he just wanted the cancer out of his body. Still, in a few days when he felt better, he wanted to make sure everything worked, see if he could get an erection (and if he was able to pop a woody he was going to jack off to see if the pump still worked). But he was going to take these things one step at a time.
He was lying in bed now, watching TV, his mind wandering, when there was a knock on the front door. His mother. “Hey ma!” He called out. “Key’s under the doormat! Come on in!”
A moment later he heard the key slip into the lock and the front door opened. He heard footsteps and he frowned. There was more than just his mother showing up to help out around the house. If she brought his grandmother and his Aunt Becky over he was gonna be pissed. “Ma, who else did you bring?”
The footsteps headed down the short hallway of the trailer, and when the well-dressed men stopped in front of the doorway to his bedroom Michael’s heart leaped into his throat. He sat bolt upright in his bed, unmindful of the surgical wound in his groin. “Who are you?” His voice squeaked in surprise and sudden fear.
“I’m Matthew Hall, from Red Rose Medical Insurance,” one of the men said. He gestured to another man next to him. “This is Bill Moreau. The rest of the men here are Red Rose Insurance Adjusters. We’re here about your case.”
Michael relaxed a little bit. “Damn, you scared the shit out of me. I thought you were my mother.”
The men entered the room and surrounded him. Bill Moreau was a young man, perhaps a few years older than Michael, and he was carrying what appeared to be a black medical bag. He opened it and began rummaging around for something as Matthew Hall addressed Michael. “We have some papers to give you.” Matthew nodded at one of the other men, who thrust a sheaf of papers at him.
Bill Moreau found what he was looking for and grabbed Michael’s left arm. Michael started. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Relax,” Bill Moreau said as he quickly applied an alcohol swab to Michael’s left arm and deftly gave him a shot from a syringe he was concealing.
“What are you doing!” Michael yelled. He was suddenly being restrained by the other two men in the room as the injection was administered.
When Bill was finished administering the injection, he replaced the syringe in his bag and the men released their grip from them. Michael felt a flare of fear rise inside him. Something’s not right here… something’s not right…
“We’re enclosing bills for your surgery, hospital stay, your consultations with Crossroads Medical Group and Lancaster Urological Group, and Bill Moreau’s house call,” Matthew Hale said, tapping the papers that had been dropped on his chest. “Please remit payment within thirty days as directed.”
“What?” Michael was confused. Bills for surgery? Hospital stay? That was supposed to have been covered! Dr. Beck was supposed to have taken care of all that. And Bill Moreau’s house call? “What did you inject me with?” he asked, rubbing his arm.
“The injection will show up as a separate line item in one of those bills,” Matthew Hale said, his voice crisp and business-like. “Don’t worry, you weren’t injected with any drug. It’s just the cancer cells which were found in the biopsy of your right testicle yesterday in the lab.”
The implication of what Matthew just said hit him like a ton of bricks. Michael felt his face go slack with shock. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.” Matthew Hale’s features were stony, completely devoid of emotion. “Red Rose denied your original claim. That was our original business decision. Therefore, the bills for your surgery and hospital stay, as well as pre and post care, not to mention Bill Moreau’s services here today to deliver what was yours in the first place.”
The absurdity of it all was so overwhelming, so wrong, that Michael was stunned. He wasn’t a highly-educated man but he knew that it was unethical for a business, especially a health care business, to jeopardize the health of their members. “This is insane!” It was the only thing he could think of to say.
“No, it isn’t,” Matthew Hale said. “It’s just business.”
“But I’ve got fucking cancer!” Michael screamed.
“And Red Rose denied your original claim,” Matthew Hale said. “Had you and your health care provider operated within the parameters of our contract, this wouldn’t be happening.”
“But I’ve got cancer you nitwit!” Michael was growing frantic; he could feel his face growing hot, his breathing growing heavy.
“Original claim denied.” Matthew looked and sounded more like a robot than he did a human being.
“I—” Michael was at a loss for what to say. Except for the sharp pinprick in his left arm from the shot, he felt fine. He didn’t think Bill Moreau had injected him with any kind of drug, and if he did there was going to be hell to pay.
The well-suited men from Red Rose stepped out of the bedroom. Matthew Hale was the last to leave. “Oh, another thing. Due to the fact that you violated our contract, Red Rose is dropping you as a member. Please pay all claims promptly.”
“Fuck you!” Michael shouted. He threw the mass of bills at Matthew Hale.
Matthew’s features didn’t change. “Regardless, you’re still liable financially for this due to the fact that Red Rose denied this claim. Please pay all bills—”
“Get the hell out of here!” Michael made an attempt to get out of bed and a stab of pain rocked through his groin and lower abdomen.
“—promptly. Thank you.” Matthew Hale stepped out of the bedroom, and as Michael gritted his teeth against the pain in his groin he heard their footsteps receding down the hall and out the door.
CHAPTER TWELVE
DESPITE THE FACT that it was three a.m. and Michelle Dowling had dropped off to sleep immediately after laying down in bed at eight-fifteen p.m., she was wide awake when the alarm went off.