“Doctor Voor, out of curiosity, do you have a, ah, ‘Tummy Buddy’ yourself?”

“No—not yet,” Voor said. “I need to keep my objectivity.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “Well, thanks for the info. I’ll call if I have any more questions.” I headed for the door.

“You’re welcome. Oh! Would you mind signing a HIPAA release? We need your medical history.”

“I’ll think about it.” But not too hard. I got out of there fast, but stopped at a drugstore on the way home.

I’d learned more than I bargained for at the doctor’s office. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach—but the sinking feeling wasn’t mine.

I looked down. “Will you please cut that out?” The sinking feeling stopped. “Thanks.”

When I got home, I went into the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub. “Get out here, please. We need to talk.”

Nothing.

“I don’t want to do this; it’ll hurt me more than it’ll hurt you.” I unwrapped the box from the drugstore. “But I’ve got a bottle of Maximum Strength Dulcolax, and I’m not afraid to use it.”