Virgo - Mr. Intelligent: The 12 Signs of Love (The Zodiac Lovers Series Book 9) Read online

  When I am alone with my lover, she’ll have to beg me to stop, to release her from the warmth of my touch and kiss. I must be convinced that she is fully satisfied because to me, it’s not about quantity—it’s about quality. My sweetheart can depend on me, and she can expect loyalty, devotion, and security.

  I don’t have to yell to get my point across if you hurt someone I treasure…

  I’ll take care of the problem.

  As Olivia Pope says, ‘It’s handled.’

  Believe that.

  I am your Virgo lover…

  CHAPTER ONE

  Modern Medicine

  The large open palm spread out before him had a slight pinkish hue, the lines mostly deep, the skin pale and weathered from the man’s hard labor in construction. Dr. Vangelis Alexopoulos ran his fingertips lightly over his patient’s skin, the texture a bit dry and rough.

  “I’m going to examine your retinas now.”

  Bending down, he looked into the man’s eyes with his retinoscope as the patient sat on the papered table in only a light blue robe that tied in the back. The whites of his eyes were framed with prominent tiny red blood vessels and looked more pronounced than normal. Vangelis looked in the right eye one more time, and made a mental note of his observations. He slid the vision instrument into his doctor’s coat pocket and looked at the skin tones of the man’s neck. The uneven hue was much darker than the rest of his complexion. Patchy loops ran the circumference of the back of his neck.

  Darker on the sides and back… could be from sun exposure, but these are more like rings and patchy…

  Pressing his thumb into the man’s wrist, he watched closely to see if the skin responded to his touch. He witnessed his imprint slowly fade. Repeating the process once again, he rendered the same results.

  “You’re dehydrated,” he said before turning away and picking up his tablet.

  “Dehydrated?” The man chuckled in disbelief.

  Vangelis swiped with his right index finger across the screen, pulling up the patient’s chart.

  “I drink like uh gallon of water a day, man. That doesn’t even include the Gatorade.”

  “Are you urinating frequently?” he asked, scanning the information.

  “Yeah, all the time.”

  “Do you often feel fatigued?” Vangelis slowly looked up and hooked his gaze.

  “Yeah… I guess. I mean, after work I am… oh, and in the mornings, it takes me a minute to wake up.”

  Vangelis nodded.

  “Have you lost weight recently but pretty much maintain the same eating and exercise habits?”

  “Mmmm, not really sure. I haven’t gained weight though… I don’t think so. Probably been about the same for a while now.”

  Vangelis looked back at the patient’s chart.

  “All right, says here from your previous doctor that in February of last year, you weighed 278 lbs. You were weighed when you arrived here today at my office and as of a little over thirty minutes ago, you weigh 230.8 lbs. You’re six foot one. I would say that’s significant weight loss,” He smiled. “Wouldn’t you?”

  “What? That’s like almost fifty pounds. I had no idea.” The patient looked downright confused as he shook his head.

  “Leonard, I want to test you for diabetes, okay?”

  A look of horror came over the man’s face.

  “Please don’t get upset. I have just cause. You have a family history of diabetes, and you are showing classic symptoms.”

  The man slumped, his shoulders folded down like a dilapidated, broken umbrella, the torrential storm of unwanted news ushering in the final blow. Vangelis placed his hand on his shoulder.

  “It’s okay. At the very least, it’s manageable, but if your test comes back positive for diabetes and you do as instructed, we can do better than that. The difference between me and some other physicians is that I actually believe that type II diabetes can be cured. Not just managed… but cured. I know that’s controversial, but you know my philosophy by now.”

  “Yeah, everything we need to get rid of whatever is messin’ us up is right here on Earth. There is no disease or illness without a cure somewhere. We just gotta find it,” the man stated solemnly, though his eyes appeared to have a glimmer of hope.

  “That’s right. There is nothing created or done that can’t be fixed if it is caught in time before major damage occurs. It may not be an easy fix, but there is always a solution. Now, I am going to schedule you to have two tests. One is an oral glucose tolerance test.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Basically, you are given a high concentration of glucose via a drink that I provide and then we test to see how your body responds to it. Then, first thing in the morning after you’ve fasted since the previous evening, we test your blood sugar levels. We’d keep you here for about a couple hours and test two to three times to see if they go down significantly, stay fairly steady for a longer period of time, things like that. If they are significantly higher than 126 mg/dl for each testing, then we can conclusively say that your body is not processing insulin correctly, which would mean that you have Type II Diabetes.”

  “Maaan! I hate needles. I know you see these tattoos, but that’s different!”

  Vangelis smirked and walked over to the trashcan. He tapped the pedestal for it to open, slid his gloves off, and tossed them inside.

  “I don’t like being pricked either, and I have several tattoos.”

  “You seem so straight-laced. I’m surprised by that!” the guy teased.

  “Well, I have to act professional, right?” He threw up his hands. “But I like some body modification. It just depends on what it is. I got these in college though… medical school, to be exact. That was a long time ago. Anyway, back to the needles. Look, so many new things have come out, Leonard, that testing with needles is becoming almost archaic now. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a common practice, but I predict in the next five years or so, it will be a rarity. There are other ways to test right now, too. That doesn’t mean you’ll never have blood drawn… you will. But it may not be an all the time thing.”

  “Okay, that’s good. I have a question though. Here’s what I don’t understand. I eat badly, I’ll be the first to admit that. Besides, you and I have already talked about this a few times so there’s no sense in me lying. It’s true and my sister is always on me about it, too, but I’ve never been like… huge or anything, you know what I mean? And I don’t eat a lot of sweets. I mean, I get what you’re sayin’ about my other symptoms, but usually people with Type II Diabetes are, well, big.” He shrugged. “My grandmother has it. My cousin has it, too.”

  “Leonard you would be surprised who has diabetes and who is at risk. Not all people that get Type II Diabetes are overweight or over-indulge in donuts and cakes, okay? Now sure, diet and weight often are a factor, but not for each and every case. It’s just like how some people get lung cancer and never smoked a cigarette in their life.” He shrugged as he picked the tablet back up and made some additional notes in Leonard’s files. “These things happen sometimes and unfortunately, genetics plays a stronger part in it than we realize.

  “There are some mysteries regarding the human body, and there are so many factors which can make one person more susceptible to an illness versus another. It’s why you can have a person that engages in drug abuse with shared needles and yet never get infected with, say, HIV. Then have another person who has been a drug abuser for only two weeks and contracts the virus right off the bat. There are too many variables involved to make a one hundred percent accurate prediction on things like this.”

  “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. All right, so what’s next? What do we do now?”

  “So, I want to see you next week for these tests, okay? I really believe that your tests will come back confirming my suspicions because for your last two visits, this has been an ongoing issue, in one way or another.”

  Leonard nodded in understanding. “So, if I have it, which you’re
obviously leaning towards, what will we do about it?” He crossed his arms.

  “We’re going to begin the natural way, of course. Now, the things I am going to mention for you to do are helpful whether you have it or not, so you may want to incorporate these measures anyway into your lifestyle because you are still at high risk. First things first… I want you to start taking a teaspoon of apple cider vinegar first thing in the morning and also with your evening meal.”

  “Ewww!” The man chuckled, causing Vangelis to do the same.

  “I know, it doesn’t taste the best but it will help your body begin to regulate your blood sugar levels a bit better. You can put it in water, take it straight, or even add it to coffee, but only after it’s cooled down a bit. I notice if I put it in green tea, I don’t even really taste it. Also, I want you to incorporate boiled eggs into your diet. Studies are showing that the protein in the eggs, as well as other factors, help lower blood sugar levels. Have, at the very least, three boiled eggs a day. I know that may seem like a lot, but really it’s not.”

  “Damn! That’s lot of boiled eggs, Dr. Alexopoulos, I don’t care what you say. My wife is gonna hate that… they give me gas.”

  They both burst out laughing.

  “Well, we can deal with the flatulence issue later, but just beg her forgiveness in advance. This is for your well-being and health so I am certain she’d try to be understanding. I also want you to take a teaspoon of Black seed oil with breakfast and/or lunch, at least once a day, preferably. You can order it online, pick it up from a health food store, or we also sell some out front. I want to try different things before we have to put you on any drugs, okay? That’s the whole point of you coming to see me.”

  “It is. I was tired of going to all these other doctors that couldn’t help me. You were the only one who got me off my high blood pressure medications.” Vangelis nodded. “I was taking my medicine but I wasn’t feeling good… and now, I’m off the pills for it and things are much better. Thank you. Because of that, I trust you.” The guy extended his hand and Vangelis shook it.

  “Good! That’s what it’s all about. We try Nature’s way first, then use the prescribed medication as a final resort. I’m not anti-medication, you know that. I just don’t want that to be the first place my patients turn. Do you have any questions?” Leonard sat there for a moment as if searching his mind.

  “Nope… I think you’ve covered everything. Oh! Should I do anything this week before testing for diabetes?”

  “No. I want you to go on as usual so that we can get an accurate picture of what’s going on. Then, and only then, will we begin treatment.”

  “Okay, I understand.”

  “Now, go on and get dressed and let me know if you have any questions about any of this that you may think of later. You can just give me a call, okay?”

  “I will, thank you.”

  Vangelis started to leave while his patient put his clothes back on but was halted at the sound of Leonard’s voice.

  “Oh, wait!” Vangelis turned back to face him. “I almost forgot… you know my sister, Sahara? The one I’ve brought up a few times in conversation?”

  “Yes, I remember. You said she’s a pediatrician over at Rady Children’s Hospital.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. Look.” The guy lowered his head and shook it as if needing a moment. “I hate to bring this up… She hates, and I do mean hates, when I tell people about this, but a couple of years ago she was in a really bad car accident Dr. Alexopoulos.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. You’ve told me many things about her but this is the first time I am hearing of this. Is she okay now?”

  “Well… yes and no. See, she did have a couple broken ribs, a broken leg, and some other problems. Those were taken care of in the hospital and have healed over time and she also had a surgery. The problem now though is, she at times gets these mystery pains in her leg, the one she had to have surgery on. She never lost use of the leg or anything like that and was back at work about three months after the incident, but no matter what, Dr. Alexopoulos, the pain has not completely gone away. At this point, she’s been told it’s psychological due to the trauma of the accident, that it’s in her mind. They’ve given her countless tests, placed her on anti-inflammatory medication, the works. Nothing is helping. I’m concerned about her though because it’s still happening… I mean, shit, why won’t anyone listen? Excuse me for cussin’ but it’s not right, and I’m worried about ’er…”

  “It’s okay. I don’t care about that.” He waved him off. His patients had no idea that he cursed like a sailor behind closed doors. Sometimes, it was the only way to release his frustration.

  “She’s seen a couple therapists, thinking she was going crazy. It literally got that bad. She knew it was a bunch of shit, that she wasn’t insane. This was really happening.”

  “She was told that her pain was psychosomatic, correct?”

  “Yeah, that’s the word I was looking for.” Leonard shook his finger in his direction, a look of deep concern and caring etched across his face.

  He really loves and cares about his sister…

  “So, I take it you are bringing this up to me because you think perhaps I can help?” He clasped his hands together.

  “Well, yeah, and I don’t mean just advice. I want her to come here to see you. I’ve told her about you, explained to her how great you are and that you are the one who took care of my high blood pressure… no more pills… and helped me with my allergies, too. She keeps sayin’ she’ll see about it but she never does. Do you mind, uh, calling her?” The man’s expression filled with shame. “I know it’s not usually done this way!” He smiled sheepishly and waved his hands about. “But I think she’d come if she could just… I don’t know.”

  “She’d come if someone finally believed her… I get it. I understand.” Vangelis crossed his arms and ankles as he leaned against the door, thinking.

  “I tell you what, before you leave today, leave your sister’s name and number, and the best time to reach her. Leave that information with the receptionist. Tell her to make sure to give it to me, that I’m expecting it. I will give your sister a call within the next forty-eight hours, okay?”

  Leonard jumped off the table, a huge smile on his face, and barreled towards him. He extended his hand for another firm shake, which Vangelis obliged.

  “Thank you so much, Dr. Alexopoulos!”

  “You’re welcome, no problem. The decision is ultimately up to her though, okay? I can’t make her come in to see me, but I will try my hardest to find out specifically from her what the issue is and see if I can help. If I can, I will definitely offer my services. Especially since she’s a doctor herself, she’s probably tired of dealing with the matter. On one hand, Leonard, when we as practitioners have a health problem, we are expected to solve it on our own and that’s just not always doable nor is it always a reasonable or the best option. Secondly, it’s also sometimes hard for us to ask for help, especially if we feel unheard by our own colleagues, so I imagine she’s just a bit aggravated at this point. But that’s okay… I’ll call her, see what’s up.”

  “You are the absolute best, man! Thanks again!” Leonard picked up his folded shirt from the arm of a nearby chair. “You’re smart and know your shit, too. I think Sahara will appreciate that.”

  “I try…” He smiled and winked before walking out the door…

  CHAPTER TWO

  Smile, Bitch! Smile, Bitch! Come On!

  Sahara raced through the streets going past the speed limit. She knew it was wrong, but all she wanted to do was burst through her front door and wash the day away. She pushed down hard on the gas pedal of her white VW Beetle and she had no intentions of letting up. Filled with elated surprise at the lack of bumper to bumper traffic from Rady’s Children’s Hospital to her condo on El Cajon Blvd. in the La Mesa are of San Diego, she took full advantage of this mystical moment and daydreamed of running a nice hot bath, turning on some music, and fadin
g away like a ghost in the middle of the night.

  She pulled into her garage, turned the car off and hopped out as fast as her feet would carry her, her black and white striped bag swinging from her shoulder stuffed with her computer, wallet, and a half-eaten lunch that should have been tossed hours ago. When she entered her home, she turned off the alarm and took note of how cold it was in her dwelling. Rubbing up and down her arms, she wondered how such a thing had happened. After all, it had marked 71 degrees outside on the gauge in her car.

  “I must’ve left the air on…” She grimaced as she placed her computer bag down onto the foyer table and checked the thermostat. As she played with the controller, her cellphone rang.

  Damn it! I can’t even get into the house without someone bothering me. This better be important! She stormed over to the large black bag, rummaged through the front pocket and pulled out her cell phone. She looked at the number.

  Who is this? I bet this is a telemarketer… another one! Every day they keep calling me! I’ve blocked them. They call from another number. I’ve told them to stop calling, they still do. I’ve threatened to report them, they act as if it was only a friendly request. You know what? I’m tired. I work too damn hard and I just want to be left alone. I’ve had it. I’m going to put a stop to this once and for all.

  She smirked as a playful mood took over her.

  Oh yes… it was showtime!

  “Hello, is this Sahara Delaney?”

  “Yes, it is. How can I help you?”

  “Hi, Sahara. I am—”

  “Wait! I hope you are the answer to my prayers!” She pretended to sob.

  “Well, I am just—”

  “Are you selling magazines? Please be selling magazines! I need a magazine about the measles! Do you have one? It can’t be a medical magazine. It has to be a magazine that talks about nothing but measles! That’s it! Not the chicken pox, not the mumps, either. You see, there’s been a measles outbreak at my job and it’s turning all the patients and employees into zombies! The government knows all about it, just like they know about Big Foot and the UFOs, and they know that tin foil hats protect us from having our brains scanned, too!”