but kept his mouth shut for a change.
“Yo, Sonny. What’s happening?” Max leaned up and shook their driver’s hand.
“Ah, nothin’ but driving you spoiled brats around.” His dark face beamed in amusement. Ben wouldn’t allow them out the door unless they agreed to let their bodyguard drive them. They had kept it between just the band about the appointment, and Max had to talk stern to make the rest of the guys stay behind. He saw no reason in needing five of them to hold his grown hand.
“Walker just wanted you to take precautions. You probably just need a worm treatment.” Mave chuckled at his own joke as he settled in beside Max. He tried conveying a light demeanor, but the anxious drumbeat he tapped against his knee was a dead giveaway to his worry.
Max’s trainer showed up last week as he did every week to put the guitarist through a rigorous weight training workout since the group had arrived in California. Walker jotted down Max’s food intake for the prior week during his warmup, which confessed to the twenty hot dogs he ate during a challenge with Mave where Mave ended up in the same condition as Will. Entire pizzas, pies, cakes, huge steak dinners, dozens of burgers, large quantities of chicken and waffles, some fruits and vegetables, and three daily protein shakes rounded out the food journal. By the time Walker finished recording the atrocious list, his brows were pinched heavily with concern.
“It’s time we get you checked out. Something’s off.” Those hesitant words from Walker were the reason Max was on his way to the hospital for bloodwork.
“Maybe you have a hormonal imbalance. That would explain your mood swings...” Mave kept rambling off cheesy comments while Max remained mute until they arrived.
The guys were able to enter the hospital without a flurry of attention for a change, helping Max’s frazzled nerves settle a bit. The entire exam and bloodwork took very little time with the staff already prepared to accommodate the rocker as quickly and quietly as possible. Hidden away in a back office, the clock slowed to a hesitant tick while they waited for the results. Thankfully, Sonny brought in an Italian pasta feast since Max had to fast for the tests. The three guys ate with gusto, but remained relatively quiet.
A light tap on the door sounded as a doctor with Asian decent walked in with a folder tucked under his arm.
“Mr. King, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He shook Max’s hand and then offered it to Mave. “As well as you, Mr. King.” Clearly a fan.
“Thanks, Dr. Cheng,” Max replied, reading the name stitched on the white lab coat.
“Just call me Nori.” He plopped in a chair and pulled on a pair of thick-framed glasses. Opening the file, he began reviewing the test results.
“He’s got worms, right?” Mave spoke, causing the doctor to look up from the chart.
Max leveled his smart-aleck brother with a warning look.
“No parasites were found,” the doctor answered seriously, not realizing the joke. “However, the numbers on your thyroid are abnormal. Since this seems to be something that’s been going on for quite a while, I’d like to run a few more tests.”
With that, the afternoon droned by with a battery of tests that was eventually explained to the confused man and his brother.
“Hyperthyroidism is a condition where the thyroid produces too much thyroid hormone. That explains why Max can eat with no weight gain and also why he always feels starved,” the doctor said as he scribbled on a prescription pad. “Anxiety and irritability are also symptoms.”
This comment elicited a grunt and an exaggerated nod from Mave. Those were recent symptoms, and Max knew his thyroid wasn’t the cause, but he kept quiet with only offering a shoulder shrug and nod of confirmation.
After the doctor handed over a few prescriptions and Mave lined up tickets for their next concert to be delivered to Dr. Cheng, the guys finally headed out.
The whirling
“Yo, Sonny. What’s happening?” Max leaned up and shook their driver’s hand.
“Ah, nothin’ but driving you spoiled brats around.” His dark face beamed in amusement. Ben wouldn’t allow them out the door unless they agreed to let their bodyguard drive them. They had kept it between just the band about the appointment, and Max had to talk stern to make the rest of the guys stay behind. He saw no reason in needing five of them to hold his grown hand.
“Walker just wanted you to take precautions. You probably just need a worm treatment.” Mave chuckled at his own joke as he settled in beside Max. He tried conveying a light demeanor, but the anxious drumbeat he tapped against his knee was a dead giveaway to his worry.
Max’s trainer showed up last week as he did every week to put the guitarist through a rigorous weight training workout since the group had arrived in California. Walker jotted down Max’s food intake for the prior week during his warmup, which confessed to the twenty hot dogs he ate during a challenge with Mave where Mave ended up in the same condition as Will. Entire pizzas, pies, cakes, huge steak dinners, dozens of burgers, large quantities of chicken and waffles, some fruits and vegetables, and three daily protein shakes rounded out the food journal. By the time Walker finished recording the atrocious list, his brows were pinched heavily with concern.
“It’s time we get you checked out. Something’s off.” Those hesitant words from Walker were the reason Max was on his way to the hospital for bloodwork.
“Maybe you have a hormonal imbalance. That would explain your mood swings...” Mave kept rambling off cheesy comments while Max remained mute until they arrived.
The guys were able to enter the hospital without a flurry of attention for a change, helping Max’s frazzled nerves settle a bit. The entire exam and bloodwork took very little time with the staff already prepared to accommodate the rocker as quickly and quietly as possible. Hidden away in a back office, the clock slowed to a hesitant tick while they waited for the results. Thankfully, Sonny brought in an Italian pasta feast since Max had to fast for the tests. The three guys ate with gusto, but remained relatively quiet.
A light tap on the door sounded as a doctor with Asian decent walked in with a folder tucked under his arm.
“Mr. King, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He shook Max’s hand and then offered it to Mave. “As well as you, Mr. King.” Clearly a fan.
“Thanks, Dr. Cheng,” Max replied, reading the name stitched on the white lab coat.
“Just call me Nori.” He plopped in a chair and pulled on a pair of thick-framed glasses. Opening the file, he began reviewing the test results.
“He’s got worms, right?” Mave spoke, causing the doctor to look up from the chart.
Max leveled his smart-aleck brother with a warning look.
“No parasites were found,” the doctor answered seriously, not realizing the joke. “However, the numbers on your thyroid are abnormal. Since this seems to be something that’s been going on for quite a while, I’d like to run a few more tests.”
With that, the afternoon droned by with a battery of tests that was eventually explained to the confused man and his brother.
“Hyperthyroidism is a condition where the thyroid produces too much thyroid hormone. That explains why Max can eat with no weight gain and also why he always feels starved,” the doctor said as he scribbled on a prescription pad. “Anxiety and irritability are also symptoms.”
This comment elicited a grunt and an exaggerated nod from Mave. Those were recent symptoms, and Max knew his thyroid wasn’t the cause, but he kept quiet with only offering a shoulder shrug and nod of confirmation.
After the doctor handed over a few prescriptions and Mave lined up tickets for their next concert to be delivered to Dr. Cheng, the guys finally headed out.
The whirling
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