Bereavement Counseling

Bereavement Counseling

By Preunbb

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*

Stuart laid back on the therapist’s couch, still feeling too anxious to really relax. It was his first therapy session ever, and he was dreading bringing up the thing that had driven him to book Dr. Karen. But the loss of his testicle had brought about feelings and emotions he’d never had before, and it was starting to seriously impact his life. He knew he needed help.

“So, what brings you into my office, Stuart? Stu or Stuart, which do you prefer?” The attractive older brunette was wearing a hip-hugging black skirt that nearly covered her knees and a professional white blouse. Stuart tried not to look up the crevice between her shapely thighs; he was here for therapy, after all. And that was the exact habit that had led him here in the first place…

“I have some…insecurities that have come up recently,” he said awkwardly. She raised an eyebrow.

“What kind of insecurities?”

“About my body. And my…manliness.”

Karen nodded. “I understand why you booked my office. I specialize in male dysphoria, insecurities, and bodily integrity disorder. When did you start feeling this way?”

“It started when I lost one of my testicles, in an accident,” he blurted out.

The words hung in the air like a bad smell. Karen was silent for several seconds.

“Oh. I see.” He heard her scribbling something down.

“Um. Well,” she collected herself, and perked back up professionally. “I can definitely help you out. Why don’t you walk me through what happened, and how it’s affected you?”

“Well, I feel like less of a man —”

“Of course you do, dear, but let’s take a step back. Start from the beginning — when did this happen? How did this happen?”

He took a deep breath. “It was about two months ago. I was at a bar, and there was this really hot girl. I was, you know…checking her out, and I think she caught me.”

“Ah. So, when she realized you were harassing her, she popped one of your testicles?”

“I — no, I wasn’t harassing her, I was just looking at her. She made eye contact and smiled, and I thought she was into it — I walked up to her, and when I got close, I guess her friend got behind me and grabbed my arms, and she —”

“Reached into your pants and dug her thumb into your ball until it popped like a grape?”

“No, she —”

“Kicked you as hard as she possibly could with her high heel?”

“No!”

“Was it a punch? I've seen uppercuts pin them right against the boy's pelvis, and they just —”

“NO!!”

“A knee?”

Stuart didn’t respond.

“It was a knee, then.” More scribbling.

“Yeah. She kneed me.” His voice was a squeak. “I tried to get free, but her friend was really strong, and she just — put her hands on my shoulders and kneed me, over and over and over again, until I felt it pop. I…I think I passed out after that, and when I came to, I was curled up on the floor, and my balls hurt more than I’d ever felt in my life. I went home —”

“Not the hospital?” She sounded surprised.

“I think I was trying to pretend it hadn’t happened.”

“Surely, you couldn’t pretend once you saw the state of your scrotum, right? I assume you checked your balls for damage as soon as you got home?”

“...No, I didn’t,” he said, trying to keep the shame out of his voice. “I…They hurt so much, I didn’t even want to touch them. And I was hoping the pain would just go away on its own, I guess. I’ve been kneed in the nuts before. It always fades, eventually.”

“But this time it didn’t get better, did it?” Could he hear a hint of amusement in her voice? He finally looked up from the floor to make eye contact, but she was just looking down her glasses at her notepad, scribbling away professionally.

“No. It got worse, and worse. I tried to sleep it off, but I kept tossing and turning, and I could feel…like, every time I moved, I swear I could feel it getting worse and worse. By the next morning — ”

“You waited until the next morning to seek treatment?!”

“...Yeah.” He winced at the shock in her voice. That’s how the doctor sounded when he'd told her.

“Most men don’t wait a whole night to get a ruptured testicle treated, you know. I mean, I do understand the trauma you’d undergone — I just wanted to let you know, from a medical standpoint, that was definitely not a smart decision.”

“Yeah. Well. I know that now.”

“Sorry, sorry. Just something to keep in mind for next time. Go on.”

Next time?!

“The emergency room doctors told me they could’ve saved it even two or three hours ago. She had ruptured it, but most of the…insides, were still, uh. Inside. But she’d cracked my ball badly, and they’d started to sort of…I don’t know, leak out. Unspool. Whatever. Every time I’d moved, I’d been pushing a little more of my fertility out. Apparently.” Stuart was near tears.

“So, it must’ve been a relief to finally get it, you know —” She held up two fingers like scissors, and finally made eye contact with him. “Snipped off.”

“It…no, it wasn’t a relief! I mean, from the pain, yeah. But now I’m like…half a man, or something. And I can’t stop thinking about it. How easily she killed one of my balls. Popped it like a grape. I keep thinking — does she know what she did? Was it on purpose? She just didn’t like the way I looked at her and decided I needed to lose half of my sperm count for life?

“Or does she not know? Like, was it just an accident? Obviously I know she kneed me in the crotch on purpose — but did she pop my ball by accident? Are my balls so fragile a girl can destroy one without even trying?

“I imagine you’re most worried about losing the last one, though,” Dr. Karen cut in. Stuart blinked.

“Uh, I mean. I mostly think about that night. It’s what I want to work through with you. Regain my confidence, and kind of…learn how to grieve my ball, I guess.”

“Right. But surely, having one of your testicles suddenly destroyed makes you worried the same will happen to your remaining gonad?”

Stuart hadn’t thought about that at all, actually.

“I’m sorry if you hadn’t considered this. I know taking one testicle probably seems like the worst thing a girl can do to you, but relative to a second testicular loss, it’s a very minor thing! I mean, I know you’ve probably had to adjust your gait so you don’t walk so lopsidedly, and your scrotum feels a little less full. As I’m sure your doctors have told you, your sperm count and testosterone levels have probably dropped a lot — but frankly, it’s very common for the remaining testicle to actually increase its own production of both, and nearly make up for the hormonal loss eventually. The real challenge is dealing with the fact that you no longer have a spare babymaker.”

“Oh.” He definitely considered his missing ball a real challenge already.

“Okay. Well, thank you for sharing your story, that gives me a lot to work with. So, if you haven’t been focused on your impending castration, what have you been so worked up about?”

Stuart didn’t like the implication of the word impending, as if it was an inevitability rather than a possibility.

“I guess…Just dealing with the pain. And feelings of emasculation. And like I said, I'm a lot less confident than before. I have these triggers, now. Like, if I’m alone with a woman, I feel anxious, or uneasy. I feel incredibly scared to look at them or speak to them inappropriately, at all.”

“Well, that actually sounds like a benefit then! Unless you want to speak to women inappropriately?”

“...No! No, I don't! But I mean, I can't talk to them at all anymore. I just imagine their knee crashing into my crotch, and the sound and the pain and I’ve…I’ve started to have these dreams, too.”

“Yes, that’s all fairly normal, Stuart. Post-orchiectomy anxiety disorder is what it’s called. All of those feelings will start to fade as your body continues to adjust to only having one testicle. It’s a common side effect of having one of your sexual organs violently detonated without warning, and something I can certainly help you work through.”

“From your story, though, I see two much larger issues at play: The first is, how little responsibility you seem to take in any of this.”

“Responsibility?! It’s not my fault she popped my ball!”

“You stared at her without her consent. You approached her without her consent.” She counted on her fingers as she listed his mistakes. “You went home instead of to the hospital. You didn’t inspect your own testicles for damage. You waited for hours and hours, until it was obviously too late to save your ball.”

“This poor girl may have been slightly involved in your halfstration, but this is largely your fault, Stuart. You could have avoided inciting the incident, and once she’d kneed your balls into mush, you could have taken steps to preserve the extra half of your own manhood. You did neither, and now… here you are.”

“I can help with all of this, okay, Stuart?”

He didn’t know what to say. Visions of losing his last ball flashed before his eyes. Did she really think this was all his fault? And…avoidable? Extra?!

“You can make sure I don’t lose my last one? Help me with my…mistakes?”

“Yes, dear. Will you let me?”

“Please. God, please help me, doctor.”

“Good boy. Let’s start by removing your pants and underwear.”

He swallowed loudly, but her hard stare didn’t waver.

“Go on. I promise it’s nothing I haven’t seen thousands of times. We need to be honest with just how much of a man you still are if we’re going to work through this.”

Reluctantly, Stuart slipped off his shoes, then slid his jeans and briefs down to expose what was left of his manhood to her.

His cock jutted out, all four rock-hard inches twitching eagerly. Below it, his one solitary testicle hung low in the unnatural slack of his half-filled scrotum.

“I see.” This time, he was sure he heard her giggle. “Did you have any insecurities about your manhood before your accident, Stuart?”

“...Yeah. I’m, uh…on the smaller side, I guess.”

“The much smaller side, Stuart. Have you gotten your micropenis diagnosis yet?”

“...micropenis? I just thought it was a little…”

“Very little, yes. Micro, in fact, as I said. I can see how the added insecurity of being half a man can pile on top of the anxiety from your micropenis. Now, I need you to stand up straight — and no, I’m not talking to that little guy. Come on, Stuart, off the couch for me.”

He slid off the couch and stood up, the linoleum ice cold against his bare feet.

“Stand with your legs apart for me, just a bit. Let your balls — sorry, your ball — hang down loose for me. No, don’t cover it up! Hands behind your back. Now, Stuart.”

He was trembling now, feeling more vulnerable than ever before. His solitary testicle was drawn up tight against the cold air of the room.

“What…what are we doing, Dr. Karen?”

Dr. Karen put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. She was smiling sweetly, and Stuart couldn’t help but notice how many buttons were unbuttoned from the top of her blouse now, her sweet, creamy cleavage drawing his eyes.

“We’re doing some exposure therapy, Stuart. I’m going to knee you in the ball.”

“What?! NO!”

She sighed. “Okay. I’m not going to therapize you without your consent. But I’m telling you, as a mental health wellness professional, a swift knee in the nuts — sorry, nut — is the absolute best thing for you right now. I’ll wait until you agree, and I’ll let you know when it’s coming so you can get ready to deal with the pain, but there’s really no other way to continue our session without this.”

“I…I…How? How is this necessary?! What could possibly be the point?”

“Stuart. I literally know more about your brain than you do. I have a doctorate in Masculine and Post-Masculine Psychology. If you’re not going to trust my credentials, there’s no point explaining this to you.”

He took a deep breath. Maybe she was right. That was why he’d booked here, after all; Dr. Karen had written several books and won countless awards for her research and publications on how men dealt with testicular rupture. Maybe she knew what was best for him.

“Okay. I trust you. Just tell me…tell me when it’s coming.”

“Well, you’re going to do that, actually. You’ll start from three and count me down. When you get to one, I’m going to knee you as hard as I possibly can. Can you do that for me, Stuart? It helps if you feel like you have some agency.”

“Okay.” He tasted metallic anxiety in the back of his throat.

“Count me down, Stuart.”

“Three…” His voice started quavering.

“Two…” She pulled her leg back, very far.

“One.” Her trim black skirt exposed a few inches of smooth thigh, and he was just realizing how muscular she was.

WHAM!

Dr. Karen’s knee rocketed into his crotch. His eyes went wide, and he began to hyperventilate. The pain shot from his gonads and up through his stomach and throat, choking him as his eyes bulged out. He swore he could feel his ball change shape beneath her blow, and flashbacks of that night overwhelmed him. Surely she wouldn’t —

THUMP.

She kneed him again. He hadn’t been expecting it. He tried to ask her to stop, but his lungs weren’t pumping air. He just managed a pathetic squeak before she drew her leg back again and —

CRUNCH

He made a small sound then fell to the floor, clutching his groin and rolling onto his side. Dr. Karen stood above him, and Stuart looked up at her, tears starting to leak out of the corners of his eyes.

“I…I thought you were only doing one knee. Oh god, doctor, please…”

“No, Stuart. Your condition needs more than that. Spread your legs now, please.”

He couldn’t even answer, just shook his head in terror. She gently grabbed his knees and spread them apart. Stuart could see directly up her tight black skirt, especially when she lifted her knee up high, her shiny black heel positioned right over his only testicle.

“Please…I can’t take any more.” Stuart stared at her foot in terror.

“Yes, you can. I promise you can.” Then she stomped. Stuart curled forward, hitting his head against her knee and nearly throwing up. Dr. Karen kept her foot down and leaned forward, gently but firmly increasing her weight. Stuart felt his ball flattening out beneath her leather sole.

As she put more and more of her weight onto the terrifyingly delicate organ, Stuart began to panic through the pain. He batted ineffectually at her shin, his ball squeaking and crunching as he felt her twist her foot around slowly. The pain was deafening. He’d never felt anything this bad in his life. Besides once. His mind flew back to the night he’d lost his nut; the red blur of pain that had masked his vision, the sounds of laughter fading behind him as the woman and her friends walked away, joking about his misery, not even responding to his incoherent screams for help, for mercy, for some relief from the warm, wet feeling inside his scrotum. His fingers had twitched near his zipper, but he didn’t dare slip his hands beneath his waistband. He remembered being scared of what he’d feel. He must’ve known how bad it was even then, even as he rationalized the horrible sloshing inside his broken nut as mere hypochondria.

And he snapped back to reality as Dr. Karen lifted her foot high back up and slammed it down again.

“Almost done, Stuart.”

“How…how many —” STOMP.

“How many times do you need to do it?!” He shrieked. STOMP.

“Like I said, we’re almost done. Please, lean back and spread your legs apart again.”

STOMP. STOMP.

“How are you feeling, Stuart? What are you thinking about? What’s going through your mind right now?”

STOMP-CRUNCH. SQUICK.

Stuart felt like he was at the bottom of a deep well of pure agony. He’d been hit in the balls a few times in his life, but besides the night he’d lost the left one, he’d never been hit as hard as this. He could barely think about anything. He was clutching his last ball, and his stomach dropped when his fingers touched its surface. It had noticeably more give than before, like she’d broken up some important internal structures keeping it stiff and taut and healthy.

“I…I think you broke it, doctor.”

She beamed down at him. “Well, I’m happy to see you’re actually inspecting your genital seriously this time. But no, nothing popped; I promise. You might have some slight fertility issues if you’re trying to get anyone pregnant in the very near future, but it should heal up. But, besides your physical discomfort, what’s your mental state like now? What are you thinking about?”

“I…” He tried to focus. Tried to focus on something besides the pain in his balls, and the smooth, shiny legs in front of his face, and the blandly curious expression Dr. Karen regarded him with. Tried to ignore the squishiness of the solitary orb in his hands, and what that might mean for his reproductive future. Aside from the excruciating pain of his current existence, he kept going back to that night. That pop.

“Oh god. You…you could’ve popped it.”

“That’s right, Stuart. Of course, I didn’t. I’m here to help you. But if I’d wanted to, it would have been trivial to neuter you. You’re starting to realize how vulnerable you are, right?”

He nodded miserably.

“It’s like…you’re the one woman in the world that should be trying to heal me.” He choked out. “And even you can hurt me like this.”

“That’s right!” She squatted in front of him, her skirt riding up and giving him another perfect view of her creamy inner thighs and sheer panties beneath. She was beaming now. “You’re making real progress, very fast. And how do you think this is going to affect your behavior towards women going forward?”

He tried to imagine talking to a strange woman. Not even hitting on her. He just imagined a polite, platonic conversation about...anything. But the thought of speaking a mere word to a member of the female sex made his ball throb even worse, somehow.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to talk to a woman again,” he croaked.

Dr. Karen’s smile broadened.

“I’m so happy to hear that, Stuart. That’s your mind adjusting to your new position, doing everything it can to subconsciously protect your last gonad. Remember, Stuart: Any woman you ever meet can hurt you like this. You need to avoid them, as much as you possibly can, for the sake of your own manhood. And when you do need to interact with a woman, for any reason, you have to submit to anything she wants. Don’t argue. Don’t talk back. Just do what she wants and hope to God she doesn’t decide she wants to pop your nut.”

“Okay.” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but he was in too much pain to argue.

“I’m serious, Stuart. I’ve treated too many eunuchs — and pre-eunuchs like yourself — who've made mistakes like this and paid the price. Men who were a little too arrogant, a little too inappropriate, or even just had an interaction with a woman they didn’t know well enough, and well…they lost their balls, Stuart. You don’t want that to happen to you, right?”

He didn’t answer.

“Stuart. Answer me. Do you want a woman to pop your last testicle?”

“No,” he choked out.

“So you’re never going to approach a woman romantically? And you’ll submit to women whenever you need to interact with one, for whatever reason?”

He nodded slowly, thinking back to every failed attempt to get a woman romantically interested in him. They always saw through his bravado to the desperate loser he knew he was inside. It had started during puberty, when his cock and balls stayed tiny and tightly packed against him while he saw his classmates grow each day in the locker room. Every time he had to confront the casually low-hanging organs between the legs of those other more fortunate men, a little bit of his confidence had died, until he was the one-balled loser he was now.

When he was 21, he'd finally given up hope of any late onset of hormones, and accepted the stubbornly tiny cocklet he'd been born with. Now he was 28 years old and had never so much as kissed a woman. She was right. He needed to accept who he was. He needed to leave women alone. Even if it meant he stayed a virgin for life. Tears started to track down his cheeks.

“No, Dr. Karen. I’ll take your advice. I won’t hit on them, I won’t talk to them, I won’t do anything besides what they tell me. I understand. I’m…really sorry.” He didn’t even know what he was apologizing for, but she accepted it with a knowing nod.

“Good. Now, I think our session for today is over. You can talk to the front desk for booking your follow up.”

“Do we need to do this again? I thought I was cured,” he whined.

“Oh, goodness no, Stuart. You’ve made great strides, but we are going to need to do a lot more sessions until you’re fully adjusted. Let’s try to meet up weekly, for the next five weeks at least?”

“Weekly?” he said weakly.

“You know what, you’re right. We can accelerate your progress. Let’s do biweekly. Mondays and Fridays work for you, right? I can assume you won’t be going on any hot Friday dates anytime soon?”

“...Yes,” he agreed.

“Great. Now stand up, dear.”

“You’re not going to.” He was scared to finish his question, as if asking would make it a reality. “You’re not going to knee me in the balls again, are you?”

“No,” she said, stiffly. “Let’s just hug, okay? I know it’s a bit unprofessional, but…I know this has been a rough session for you, and I want you to feel better.”

A hug. Actual physical contact, from a real woman. It was enough of a motivation for him to struggle to his feet and let go of his crotch. Dr. Karen stared into his eyes and smiled sweetly at him. He walked forward into her arms, and embraced her, wrapping his arms around her slim waist, leaning forward into her warmth. Her bosom pressed against him, and Stuart realized she obviously wasn't wearing a bra. He buried his face in her neck, breathing deeply, steadying himself at the feel of her warmth. Maybe this therapy wouldn't be so bad.

And then, the sickening, stomach-twisting ache of nutpain that had been starting to fade exploded into bright new agony. She’d kneed him in the ball, again. Stuart was close enough to her he could hear her soft grunts of effort as she slammed her leg into his manhood. Again, and again. She hugged him tight, holding him too close for him to get his hands between his legs to protect himself.

“You…you promised.”

“Remember, Stuart. Any woman. Any time. Always. You need to be on your guard. You can’t trust any woman not to hurt you. Not me, not a girlfriend or a sister or a mom or a doctor or a therapist. Every woman, ever, is a possible danger to your last little babymaker. Just keep that in mind, always.”

She pulled her knee back one last time, and rammed it between his legs. Stuart’s legs gave out, and he moaned. Loudly.

His dick didn’t even have the courtesy to grow to its full length before his sudden ejaculation. Stuart looked down at the manhood he had left, confused and somehow betrayed. Another thin rope of white jumped out of him, the warm cum staining the doctor’s leg. Four spurts of cum later, his cock managed a full erection, the little curl of flesh pointing optimistically upward as it tried its best to launch his cum into her pussy. It failed; he’d never had particularly large cumshots, and this one was already fading to dribbles by the time he’d managed to get hard, his cum landing pathetically on the tile floor and her nyloned thighs. Stuart didn’t understand and couldn’t understand and just waited for his humiliation to finish, bewildered by the ruined, miserable orgasm she’d apparently forced out of him. Dr. Karen just frowned downwards, clearly disappointed.

“Doctor…I’m sorry. I don’t…I lost control. I don’t understand how, you didn’t even touch my…”

“Your little dick. I know, Stuart. It’s okay. This can happen for guys like you. It’s your body telling you it recognizes you might be losing the opportunity to reproduce soon. Your ball is just randomly spraying out sperm in a mindless, desperate attempt to impregnate anything before it’s ruptured. Just let your body finish what it’s doing, Stuart. I know it’s embarrassing, but this is the exact reason we need to continue therapy. Trust me, by the time I’m done with you, you will be psychologically incapable of even having an erection in the presence of a woman, much less an orgasm. But for now, you’re still dealing with the trauma of your mistakes. So just let your little dick finish spurting and our session will be finished.”

She laced her fingers between his and spread his hands apart, keeping him from touching himself while his throbbing member released his pathetic load. It was the first time he’d ever cum in front of a woman, and it felt like…nothing. Absolutely nothing. Without any stimulation, what should’ve been a beautiful relief was just an uncomfortable ruined dribbling. But somehow, he knew it was all he deserved. He looked into her eyes, her gaze aloof and professional against his own teary eyes.

The two stood in silence for what felt like an eternity, his pathetic moans and the small wet sounds of his cum dribbling onto the floor the only sound in the office. Finally, he finished. His dick hung down between his legs, so small it couldn’t manage to dangle past his spent, droopy testicle. The last few remnants of his watery cum leaked down onto his half-filled ballsack as his orgasm finally finished.

“There you go, Stuart. Now get dressed and go settle your bill at the front desk. Michelle will get you all set up for next week.”

Michelle was reading behind the front desk when Dr. Karen’s latest client stumbled out, still clutching his groin. She wondered what the doctor had diagnosed him with, and what his treatment would be. She’d gotten used to the screams and wet squelches she heard coming from behind the doctor’s office door while she checked patients in and handled billing issues. She didn’t quite understand why so many of the therapist’s clients needed such intense physical therapy, but she was just a receptionist, not a doctor.

The man slowly approached her, clutching the front desk for support when he reached it. Shaking, he handed her his credit card, and she opened up his file.

“Looks like the doctor recommended biweekly appointments. For…” She read his file, and suppressed a giggle.

“Ah. I see. Micropenis counseling? And…something called ‘unitesticular reinforcement’?” Her eyes widened when she finished reading his file, and realized the cause of his lopsided stance.

“Oh. You’re a one-nut!” She said excitedly, forgetting to control her volume. Around the waiting room, several women and their partners looked up, suppressing their own giggles. The half-man looked even more miserable. Dr. Karen had left some extra notes for her; special instructions she needed Michelle to help with, apparently.

“Yes. Can you please keep your voice down?”

Normally she was much nicer to the poor men who had the misfortune of requiring Dr. Karen’s treatment. She knew losing one or both balls was devastating for them, and she’d never really enjoyed ‘ballbusting’ as much as some girls she knew did. But Dr. Karen’s instructions were quite clear; his humiliation was all part of his treatment.

“Of course! Sorry, one-nut. Just sign here and we’ll have you set up. Oh, and feel free to tip at the bottom there.” She passed the bill back to him, biting her lip to hold back from laughter. She'd never heard of tipping a receptionist on a therapy bill either. If he had the slightest backbone, he’d leave it blank.

“...Tip?”

“Yeah. For my service. It’s hard work back here, you know, dealing with all the billing and scheduling surgeries and painkillers and hormones for you guys. I mean, not prescribing, but like. Paperwork and stuff. So if you want to tip me for my service, you can!”

He stared stupidly at the blank line and the suggested tips of 25%, 50%, and 100% of the hefty therapy bill. Finally, he picked up the pen shakily and circled the far right option. Michelle couldn’t believe her luck; she’d just made $400 for about thirty seconds of work. And apparently, this was helping the mental anguish the poor half-man was going through. Somehow.

“Thank you so much! Good luck out there, Stuart.”

As he walked away slowly, his gait hitching every other step, he paused and turned back to her.

“Michelle.” She could hear that his voice was sort of high-pitched now. Dr. Karen must have really gone hard on him.

“Yeah, Stuart?”

“What would you have done if I hadn’t tipped?” He couldn’t make eye contact with her, for some reason. She looked discreetly at her monitor and read back the script the doctor had left for her.

How Karen had known he’d ask this exact question, she had no idea. The woman had an almost preternatural gift for knowing the inner workings of the minds of nutless and nearly nutless guys. Michelle didn’t particularly enjoy being so cruel, but she didn’t hate it, either. She was just doing her job. She read off the lines Karen had left her, doing her best to sell them as real.

“Well. Truth be told, I would’ve been really offended. And knowing what you’ve got left in your sack…I probably would’ve popped your last ball.” He nodded his head, as if he’d already known the answer.

“But you didn’t! You were so nice. So, no need for me to be mean, ya know? I’m not going to neuter a guy who leaves a 100% tip.”

“Yeah. Thanks. For not popping it, I guess. I’ll see you next week.”

“Don’t mean later this week? The doctor has you set up for Friday, it looks like.”

He shuddered. “Of course. I’ll see you Friday.” Stuart hobbled off, clearly dreading his next appointment.