Priority Review

By Dawn Eggert

Dr. Mike Solz, M.D. is Houston Memorial Hospital’s newest pathologist. Bodies start crossing his table with odd lung pathology that he’s unfamiliar with. All the cases differ in regards to age, race and background but the pathology is strikingly similar. The only common link in each case’s medical history is that each case lost weight in the preceding two years with the help of weight loss supplements. Mike contacts a pulmonologist friend of his to help him figure out what is going on. When his friend presents the pathology findings a a pulmonary medicine conference, it comes to their attention that whatever is going on in the Houston area is being seen in other parts of the country.

Previously, Dr. Michael "Mac" Horn, Ph.D. traveled the world looking for natural remedies used by traditional societies. One of his discoveries was a tea for weightloss. He brings it back home determined to identify the active ingredient and test it. Shortly after this he realizes his discovery has the potential to cure America of its obesity epidemic so he founds a company to market his discovery.

Mac has his eyes set on curing America's obesity epidemic the American way: with a pill. Mike is right in the middle of trying to understand this odd pathology he's seeing. Medical science and research intersect with capitalism in this fast-pasted novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dawn Eggert
• Release date: Aug 9, 2016
• ISBN: 9780997848700

Dawn Eggert

Dr. Dawn Eggert holds a Ph.D. in Pharmacology and Neuroscience. She lives in Lincoln, Nebraska with her two dogs, both Russell Terriers. In her free time, she enjoys writing, reading, spending time with both dogs and horseback riding.

Book preview

~1~

Four years previously

Mac punched the garage door button from half a block away several times in rapid succession. He pulled his red Cadillac Escalade carefully next to his wife’s gold Lexus

Why do I put up with this? He said. He rolled his eyes noting the Lexus was angled in the garage. Hitting the several more times in quick succession, he closed the garage before exiting his SUV and headed towards the door to enter the house. Arranged tools hung on the walls of the garage and the riding mower stood in the middle of the third garage stall though Mac hadn’t mowed in several years or even taken any of the tools down off the walls since longer than that. His life was too busy for common yard work or building anything. After all, that was what hired help was for.

Opening the door to the kitchen from the garage, he was hit with the smell of ham.

Odd, he said under his breath. Connie rarely cooked because she couldn’t cook rather than not having enough time to cook. She mooched off him. She had plenty of time to learn how to cook if she wanted to. It just wasn’t something she ever took up. When they first met, she was living off lettuce wraps.

Twilight zone?

She’d never been happy with domestic duties. In the beginning she had carried out cleaning and kind of cooked. Then she quickly figured out the best way out of those distasteful chores was to get a job and work, but she wasn’t into that either. She had trained Mac to pick up the domestic duties where she left off . He looked around the large country kitchen that was so out of place other than it worked with the house layout. Not a finger or hand print was visible on the stainless steel appliances. His wife was standing over the island in the middle of the kitchen with her back to him..

Glad you’re home, Connie said as she turned around to face him smiling. She wore a pair of khaki shorts with a light blue sleeveless blouse and brown sandals.

Mac was in shock. You’re cooking? He asked.

Yes, she said.

Actually cooking? He felt like he was going to have a heart attack from shock.

Trying, she said hopefully succeeding.

What are you cooking because I swear I smell ham, Mac asked. He’d been fixing meals for the both of them since before they got married; if the word ‘meals’ included anything more than lettuce wraps and boiled water for tea bags.

Remember the Panini press I bought a couple years ago.

The Panini press you bought so I could make you grilled sandwiches? Mac stepped up beside her but still maintained a good couple of feet of distance.

Okay, that was the plan, but you never got into doing Panini sandwiches. She looked away for a quick second before starting again. Anyway, I bought some thin sliced ham and some Swiss cheese this afternoon from Sam’s market and thought I’d try to fix us Panini sandwiches for supper. Mac noticed his wife’s eyes kept darting away from him.

Connie, what’s wrong?

You mean I can’t try to make supper for my loving, sweet husband after a long day at work? Her voice was now sharp, not lovingly sweet. Mac knew she didn’t like being called out on anything, but she wasn’t doing a good job of hiding whatever was not right in her world.

He changed the subject to give her a break, "Is that ham that I smell?

I told you already I bought thin sliced ham from Sam’s market today. I figured this was the way to go, and I wanted ham and cheese tonight. Her voice was back instantaneously to being lovingly sweet.

Mac eyed her up and down while glancing at the Panini press in action. He was trying to decide if his wife had been abducted by aliens. Something was not right, but he didn’t know what it was.

Connie noticed Mac eyeing her.

You don’t believe me do you? She said. I wanted to try fixing one first. It’s my experiment. I folded over a slice of bread around several slices of ham with a slice of cheese on one side. Some of the ham is outside the bread and is getting cooked and that’s what’s making that wonderful smell. She turned away from him to face the Panini press and wiggled her butt in Mac’s direction.

An experiment. He shook his head side to side. She turned her head around allowing her hair to cradle one side of her face.

Yep, she turned her head back to the Panini press. Mac hadn’t seen this side of Connie in probably more than a decade. He liked what he was seeing. She had an incredible figure and a great smile along with her nice long silky hair, but they hadn’t made love in years. So even though he liked what he was seeing, it wasn’t like he was going to get any.

I’m married to a scientist and I can’t do any experimenting now and then? She asked in a pouty voice.

Okay, you could do an experiment every so often if you wanted to, but you never do. Mac turned around to hang his coat on one of the chairs. What was up with the flirtatious attitude tonight? he said under his breath. Turning back to his wife, can you experiment with cleaning the house so I don’t need to keep paying someone to come in twice a week. You’ve never even made a meal, let alone used the Panini press.

Why do you have to ruin everything? Connie said with a whine.

It’s only an observation. I haven’t ruined anything. What’s gotten into you?

Nothing’s gotten into me. I just want to show the man I married how much I love him. The smell from the ham was making Mac hungry. He did a double take at Connie after she said she loved him. "Love me or love the life I’ve given her, went through his head, does she even know the difference?"

Question.

What? She smiled again.

Why are you doing this?

Why not? She glared at Mac. Can’t I do something for my husband? She said sharply. The loving and sweet voice was gone just like that. Mac raised his eyebrows at his wife.

Connie, just answer the question. Why are you doing this?

I’m hungry. I’m taking the sandwich. I think it’s done. She lifted the handle up on the Panini press showing the half sandwich with score marks. Cheese oozed out and ham hung out three sides.

I wasn’t expecting you home this early. But I’m glad you’re home. She smiled at him again. Mac smiled back. He asked himself if he knew a good psychiatrist for his wife. "Bipolar? Twilight zone. Had to be." shot through his mind.

He walked over to the refrigerator and got the jar of dill pickle spears out. When he twisted the cap, the smell of vinegar wafted up in front of him. He grabbed a fork out of the silverware drawer and stabbed a pickle. Taking a bite of it still on the fork, he walked over the sink to eat his pickle appetizer. The pickle made audible crunch noises when he was eating it. When he was done grazing he washed his hands and dried them off using the kitchen towel by the kitchen sink. In no time, supper was ready and she had the two plates, one for him and one for her, on the counter. She placed panini sandwiches on both plates. Mac followed his wife outside to their patio and they sat down at the stone and glass patio table facing each other.

How was your day?

Normal, until I got home. He said.

I thought I’d ask. She took a chomp of her dill pickle.

It’s been a long time since you asked. Mac said as he poured himself a glass of raspberry iced tea from the pitcher that was already sitting out on the table. The cold pitcher left a wet water ring on the table where it had been.

How was your day? He asked.

I spent my day here at home.

All day here at home? When was the last time you did that? Mac paused in between large bites of his grilled sandwich to look at her.

Today I needed to. She took a bite of her sandwich, chewed, and swallowed. The smells of cooked ham and dill pickles filled the air. How’s that student of yours? There was a pause as she thought for a moment, trying to recall the student's name, Brad? Is that his name? How is Brad doing? Is he nearing finishing yet?

Mac chewed trying to finish his sandwich, then wiped his mouth with a napkin and took another sip of his tea. He looked at his wife.

Ok, what’s this all about? Mac said. He had officially had it with the strange behavior. Bipolar or not, he wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on with his wife. He enjoyed the grilled ham and cheese, but this was not right. It didn’t feel right. It was completely out of the ordinary and was not the behavior he was used to from his wife.

What do you mean? She sharpened her voice.

I married you for better or for worse. You haven’t been this interested in my life for years. So, let me ask this again, what is this all about? Because I’ve just about had it. Mac’s voice was filled with frustration.

I just wanted to let you know I care about you and I was making small talk. She replied. Mac wiped his mouth with his napkin again and stood up. He took his plate and glass into the kitchen, rinsed his dinnerware off and placed them in the sink.

Thank you for cooking dinner. I’ll be in the study. He called out to her through the screened patio doors. She could stay outside, but he had other things he needed to work on. She made no attempt to get up and follow him.

The study was a dark room with comfortable, dark chocolate leather furniture arrange in it. A dark brown desk stood in one corner with a lamp beside it. He touched the base of the table lamp turning it on and grabbed his laptop that was on the desk before falling into the leather couch. His laptop booted up and then he logged onto the server remotely for his biotech start up. He reviewed the data from the current compounds his company was screening. He really needed to look at the new data for the most promising compounds. At least in here, life was normal. He resolved to get down to work despite his curiosity about his wife’s behavior. In the past month, his company had screened five hundred compounds. Forty compounds didn’t impair cellular viability below ninety-four percent in the assays used so forty compounds would go on for further testing. The next set of testing was to check the viability again, but this time using a logarithmic base ten scale of compound concentrations from ten picograms to ten milligrams. In all, each drug would be tested this way again for viability using a human cell line. If any of the compounds made the cut for viability at all the concentrations, the next step would be to use primary cell cultures made from various human tissues and the exact same kind of cellular assays repeated. The company was trying to create a toxicity profile for each compound tested. The main goal was to make sure the compounds were non-toxic. The next step after this was to see if the compounds could be re-tooled for another purpose other than what they had been approved for by the FDA. Every compound tested by his biotech company had already been approved by the FDA, except for the ones he had brought back from his travels overseas to look at which were folk remedies used by other cultures. The lists of FDA approved compounds were long, but he figured that with today’s technology he could determine if the compounds could be useful for applications other than the application the compound had originally been approved for by the FDA.

Synthesizing new compounds specific for molecular targets of disease was outside of his startups budget. Cost of making the new compounds could be expensive, and then having to carry out all the needed testing for FDA approval would take millions of dollars and years of testing, not to mention the army of workers. However, taking another look at already approved compounds, now that was within his start-up’s budget.

While letting some rather large data files load, Mac thought about his wife Connie. He wondered what had brought on this strange behavior. He would tell her about the Chicago offer when he had the offer letter in hand. He didn’t know what she’d say. He certainly hadn’t expected this evening’s conversation or dinner for that matter. He told himself he loved her. He’d married her nineteen years ago when they were both undergraduate. They loved each other, or thought they loved each other. They were poor, but all undergraduates were poor. And they were poor through his graduate studies, but they were happy with each other he thought. Chasing his career had been taking its toll on both of them over years. And then one day, he suddenly woke up and realized he had attained what he wanted in his career. Connie was still by his side and he thought she still loved and supported him. They appeared together at various events together.

Earlier in their marriage they’d talked about children but it never happened. It wasn’t for lack of trying. He even went to his primary physician and was referred to a reproduction specialist. At the end of seeing the reproduction specialist, he’d found out there was no problem with his sperm. He never told Connie that he’d taken those steps. He had asked her if she would consider seeing a doctor, but she wouldn’t hear it. She kept telling him that it wasn’t her, it was him. The subject eventually became taboo.

Mac, are you busy? Connie was at the door to the study. She startled Mac back to reality. She never interrupted him in his study. She never set foot into the study. This was his domain and an extension of his work environment. He closed his laptop and looked up at her in shock while she walked in. He said nothing. She sat down next to Mac on the chocolate couch. She had put on perfume and had straightened her hair since their meal together. She leaned over to kiss him. Mac turned away and the kiss landed on his cheek.

I thought you’d maybe kiss me back? She moved closer to him and made sure he could feel her breasts through her shirt on his upper arm. I love my husband and want to show him that I love him.

I come home to the twilight zone. Mac took a breath. I love you, Connie, but this is not you. Mac tilted his head trying to convey that he really only wanted that question answered.

Mac, I was thinking we could go into the bedroom and have some fun. I know what you like. Or we could just do it right here if you like. She started unbuttoning her blouse.

Your bedroom or mine? He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. This was very out of character for Connie.

Either, but I’d prefer mine.

Of course, you would, honey. He smiled sarcastically as he placed his laptop on the coffee table in front of the couch. "I’m getting up and I’m leaving the room. I am going to my bedroom. Please don’t follow me."

For a decade, Mac and Connie had slept in separate bedrooms. This was originally to help with his odd work hours, but when his hours became more normal, the sleeping separately didn’t stop. Connie stayed on the couch after Mac left the room, grabbed one of the pillows and just held it.

Mac awoke in the morning before his alarm clock went off and simply laid there waiting. He was searching his mind about last night. Connie always had evening plans. He had long ago accepted that his wife liked going out in the evenings when he was exhausted from work, or while he was still at work. He tried to remember the last time they’d made love.

"What kind of man have I become? I love her body and her hair," he said to himself, yet he couldn’t remember the last time they made love.

A few years ago, he would have been thrilled for his wife to suggest they go make love. He would have been thrilled to get it on right there on the couch in his study. At the time, he was going through difficult times in his career and the release wound have been just what he needed.

The alarm clock buzzed to life. He reached up, turned it off and sat up in bed. He decided a cup of coffee would do the trick and headed to the kitchen barefooted. Walking past the open door of his study, he looked in. From the light in the hallway he could see Connie still in there wearing last night’s clothes clutching a pillow and asleep on the couch. He closed the door quietly. No need to wake her. She needed her rest or she’d be upset with him for waking her at such an early hour.

In the kitchen he brewed one cup of the French roast coffee using the single cup coffee maker he’d purchased last year. He savored his first sip of the black coffee, then after a few more sips he headed back to his bedroom and into the attached bathroom to shower, shave and get dressed for the day. He pulled out a pair of blue jeans and a short sleeve button-up shirt out of his master closet attached to his bathroom. After finishing his morning routine, he returned to his coffee with his tablet and checked the local news. Breakfast was a bowl of organic, crisp rice cereal with milk and a spoonful of honey. At 7 am he grabbed his car keys off the kitchen counter like every morning and walked out the door into the garage to his Cadillac.

As he drove, his mind went back to Connie. He loved her. He thought. At least he had at one time. He wasn’t sure what emotion he was feeling was right now. Whatever it was, it felt strange. His stomach knotted up and stayed that way. The relationship had worked for both of them for years. When he thought about it, he paid all the bills, and he provided her with spending money as well as a number of credit cards. They hardly talked anymore. Do I love Connie anymore? Is it possible for two adults to be in a relationship simply because it’s convenient? He kept asking himself on his drive to the University.

He pulled into the university parking lot for faculty next to the building where his academic lab was. He needed to get past this negative thinking to be able to go in and concentrate on his job.

Connie sat in the living room that evening waiting for Mac to arrive home. Tonight, she didn’t try to cook. She had had several crying spells today and finally had decided tell him that she was pregnant. She’d spent the last few hours working a plausible story out in her mind. She would tell him she wanted children and since he wouldn’t cooperate, she found a man who would.

You’re what? Mac stood up and walked across the living room to the fireplace. He stood facing the mantle. He put his hands on the mantle bracing himself. His legs were wobbly and he was sure they were going to give out on him.

Pregnant. Connie paused, ‘You know ‘with child’?" She wasn’t smiling. She had imagined him taking the news a lot better than this. She just knew that he would hold and console her because he had always wanted a child.

I heard the pregnant part. Doesn’t it usually involve two people? He narrowed his eyes. Funny, because I don’t remember anything resembling sex around the conception time two months ago that would result in me being a father. He pursed his lips together. In fact I don’t remember the last time we had sex.

Connie took a deep, audible breath, You’re not.

And you’re breaking this to me because? Mac turned around and put his hands on his hips.

Because I love you and I’ve wanted children for a long time now and you didn’t.

You’ve wanted children for a long time? He asked. Wait a minute, I’ve wanted children for years, and it never happened in all the years we’ve been married. Now you’re telling me it has happened, he paused, but with another man? Mac’s voice was raised.

You wouldn’t cooperate, you were too busy. It wasn’t because of me, it was you. I’m betting you have a low sperm count or low testosterone since sex isn’t that high on your ‘to do’ list. Connie looked down at her stomach.

It’s not me. My sperm is just fine. I had that checked out by a doctor years ago.

You’re lying. It wasn’t me. I know it was you. Connie said.

Listen to me, I went to a doctor and had my sperm looked at. The problem wasn’t me, Connie. Mac said.

So you could give a doctor a sperm sample, but you couldn’t have sex with your wife? Connie had shifted her weight.

Stop trying to change the subject, woman.

You’re going to become a daddy.

Connie, why did you go and do this?

Because I wanted a child. I’ve wanted children, but you didn’t.

Now you’re lying. You’ve never wanted a child, let alone multiple children. I’ve always wanted a child, but you always told me ‘you weren’t ready’. Whatever that meant.

You always put your work first. Connie said, her voice raised.

Mac took a deep breath. So now you have one on the way, what next? Mac’s voice was suddenly soft. He looked down and then back up at Connie.

We, she emphasized ‘we.’ We, honey, have one on the way. Connie smiled as she rubbed her belly.

No Connie. You have one on the way, and whoever it was who knocked you up. Mac’s words were rhythmic. Tears started swelling up in Connie’s eyes. She had stood her ground, but he wasn’t seeing it her way.

I told him, and now he never wants to see me again. He told me that this is all my fault, and he had nothing to do with it. Connie grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes. He wants nothing to do with me. Told me that if I came after him for child support and cost him his marriage, he’d hurt me.

I’d say you were used, dear Connie. Mac said. She let the tears flow. She did not like her emotions being on display for anyone, especially Mac.

He doesn’t want anything to do with me now. She was trying to process what was going on in Mac’s head, as well as wiping the new tears that were forming in her eyes. She’d never heard his voice like this.

Because you threaten his life, or rather, your child does. You didn’t tell him that you were using him as a sperm donor? Mac looked across the room at this instant making eye contact with his wife. His face was solid stone.

I wasn’t using him as a sperm donor.

Then what? A boy toy? Mac shook his head. You two must have really enjoyed yourselves. Mac’s voice became louder.

You never did anything with me. Connie said.

This is not my fault, and you are not going to turn it into my fault. We appeared in public together. That was what you wanted Connie, to keep up appearances. And as for me touching you, you didn’t want that. And you made that quite clear to me privately. Mac leaned against the stone on the fireplace and folded his arms.

Mac, you drove me to this. You spent so much time working that you forgot about me. I had to go elsewhere. I needed someone. It’s not my fault.

This isn’t my fault and you are not going to blame me for any of your foolishness. Mac stood up and squared his shoulders facing Connie. His voice became softer.

I hate you. Connie yelled and continued yelling, "I hate you Michael Lee Horn. I hate you for making me fall