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Gay Medical Mnemonic Fiction: Neurology
Gay Medical Mnemonic Fiction: Neurology
Gay Medical Mnemonic Fiction: Neurology
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Gay Medical Mnemonic Fiction: Neurology

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Neurology Notes Interwoven With Homoerotic Mnemonic Fiction (Book Two)

LanguageEnglish
Release dateOct 29, 2016
ISBN9781370873579
Gay Medical Mnemonic Fiction: Neurology
Author

Phillip Reeves, MD

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    Gay Medical Mnemonic Fiction - Phillip Reeves, MD

    GAY MEDICAL MNEMONIC FICTION

    - NEUROLOGY

    By

    Phillip Reeves, MD

    SMASHWORDS EDITION

    * * * * *

    PUBLISHED BY:

    Phillip Reeves, MD on Smashwords

    GAY MEDICAL MNEMONIC FICTION

    - NEUROLOGY

    Copyright © 2016 by Phillip Reeves, MD

    Smashwords Edition License Notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

    * * * * *

    PEDIATRIC

    Rett Syndrome

    General: neurodegenerative disorder, affects only females

    Clinical: stereotypic hand movements (hand wringing), acquired microcephaly

    [MOVING IN]

    When I was fifteen I had a friend and my friends’ name was Lively. We talked about our lives, which consisted of a lot of studying on my part and exams, vacations, flirting, even minor illness on hers. Over that year, she was seriously courted by at least two guys.

    She described their advances to me in detail, perhaps in the hope that she might get me jealous enough to make a move on her. But I was honestly more interested in the guys than her. I was fascinated by their love-sick attempts to woo her and by their machinations to get in her pants.

    I was amused, though baffled by her interest in me and appreciated her attention, but I ultimately saw her as nothing more than just a friend.

    Lively was beautiful - even I could appreciate that - and apparently, like many beautiful girls, she yearned to make something of her beauty; display it, have it seen, appreciated, before it faded and ultimately vanished; and Lively achieved just that. She auditioned for and got the part of Scarlet in the sequel to ‘Gone with the Wind’.

    Although she was quite taken with me, she also became infatuated with her co-star, the guy who would be playing her love interest, Rett Butler. The guy was admittedly talented but had an impossibly small head relative to his body!

    But what she didn’t know was how sexed up that guy was. One evening he casually suggested that they rehearse at her home. When they were alone in her bedroom, it became obvious from his hand wringing that he was under much nervous tension which stemmed from his indecent ulterior motives. He asked if he could take a quick shower and emerged from the lavatory with nothing but a plush towel over his loins. His nervous hand wringing turned to attempts at heavy petting and fondling of his co-star, but eventually his advances were rebuked.

    Anyway, my friendship and awkward ‘courtship’ with Lively lasted long but it eventually ended when I finally told her that I did not like girls. That revelation caused the life to drain from both our voices. In subsequent conversations I became more daring; I went on to mention that there was a particular guy I was interested in. The guy's name was Andrew; he was of short stature but with a solid frame. He had rugged good looks and an angular face with a solid jaw and a shot of dirty blond hair across his forehead. He dressed in earth tones and liked sporting scarves around his neck. He was a man's man, the kind of guy that might appear in a Marlboro ad. Perhaps I was not as considerate as I should have been when I decided to go into details with Lively about my crush. She seemed to take my revelations in her stride but it’s possible that she was crushed inside.

    That’s what I was thinking as I walked through Aardvark’s Johnston gate, perhaps because I was hoping to leave behind my somewhat reticent past and indulge in wild debauchery as

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