Substance P - 1. Substance P

Substance P

“So, give me a rundown on the trials,” the woman in the cream colored skirt and silk blouse asked as she crossed her long, shapely legs. “I heard they are going quite well and this could be a breakthrough for us.”

“It’s early yet, but the mice seem to be responding favorably to the treatment. We weren’t sure it would be easy to measure the effectiveness but they seem to be sleeping more peacefully and they’re not as aggressive,” the man seated behind the desk said. Dr. Jason Hampton watched as his boss inspected her perfectly polished nails. Dr. Carol Littleton was a very together woman whose star was on the ascent at Luminair Labs. She was one of his biggest supporters and her casual, almost flippant behavior wasn’t an insult. Carol felt comfortable with him and Jason felt the same about her. They were both ambitious, wicked smart, and ready to take the pharmaceutical world by storm, he as a researcher and she as head of sales.

“Tell me about this product. I realize we can’t get it into the marketplace quite yet but I want to know everything about it,” Carol said brushing back her long brunette hair carefully highlighted to accent her creamy beige complexion. She knew her looks had no effect on her colleague but that didn’t matter. Her primping was instinctual and habitual.

“You know about the effect of Substance P on brain cells, right?” Jason said, folding his hands on the desk. He moved a letter opener two centimeters to the left of the stapler, angling it just so. He couldn’t stand a messy desk.

“Start from the beginning,” Carol said, almost stifling a yawn but not quite. “I want to know every detail of the project.”

“Recent studies have shown that there is a neuromodulator called Substance P that stimulates neuron growth and suspends the neuro-degeneration of brain cells. We wanted to find some way to deliver an outside source of the substance into the hypothalamic–pituitary–adrenal axis that could help stimulate neural growth and jumpstart the subject’s own system to produce more of its own Substance P.”

“You’ve lost me,” Carol said, this time not even trying to stop the yawn. “When I said start at the beginning, I mean what are you really trying to do?”

Jason chewed absently on the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want her jumping to conclusions. This research was important on its own and if they could make it work, millions of people could benefit from this “drug.”

“Okay,” Jason took a deep breath. “People with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder can have a part of their brain actually poisoning itself. When humans are extremely stressed for a significant amount of time, the neurotransmitters cells used to communicate with one another can eventually start killing off brain cells if they aren’t neutralized. There are literally spots in the hippocampus that can develop necrotic, or dead, nerve tissue. That is the physical manifestation of PTSD we sometimes see on PET scans of the brain. What we’re trying to do is reverse that process and give these people a chance for a better life.”

“Oh,” Carol said. “So you’re trying to bring Rick back to life.”

“NO!” Jason said loudly. “I mean, no, I’m just trying to help other people who had the same problems he did.”

Carol didn’t say anything at first. She was inspecting her nails in the light again. “I think it’s both noble and inspiring. I knew Rick’s death really affected you badly and this could be a way for you to get past it. I think working toward a goal like this is admirable, and smart. You’re motivated. That’s ninety percent of achieving something, motivated interest. Please continue.”

Jason watched her carefully. Carol was smiling at him but not in a smug way, as she usually did. The smile on her face was oddly serene, compassionate, and Jason was heartened by that.

“Even after the process has been reversed and the stress has been alleviated, someone with PTSD can exhibit flash memories of the incident, bringing the stressor back as if it was occurring again. The sufferer can have wild mood swings, suicide ideation, difficulty sleeping, and other such symptoms. Often we treat the patient with talk therapies and anti-depressants but mostly these treatments deal with the symptoms not the larger problem.”

“Rick never did respond to therapy or the SSRI’s did he?”

“I wish you wouldn’t say it like that. Sure, Rick’s death inspired my work but I’m not doing this for him. I’m doing it…”

“Jason, please don’t take offense,” Carol interrupted. She uncrossed her legs, stood up and walked over to the desk. Carol took a finger and touched Jason’s nose. “I told you, I’m all for your project. I’m just making sure you know this isn’t just a project. You have to keep in mind this is a mission for you, a kind of pilgrimage you are taking.”

Jason sighed. He knew he was rather fanatical about this project. It consumed his every waking hour and left him restless at night. Jason woke up and worked in the wee hours because it needed to work. He had to find a cure for what had killed his lover. There was no way he could fail at this.

“Sorry. I’m just so sensitive about how the funders have reacted in the same way you just did. Just because I lost my partner to PTSD shouldn’t make it seem weird I’m trying to help others.”

“I get it. Please, continue telling me about the project,” Carol smiled encouragingly and pulled her chair closer to the desk.

“Where was I? Oh yeah. Instead of treating the symptoms of PTSD, this attempts to directly stimulate the brain into healing itself. So, our first problem was finding a source of Substance P. After some trials, we found it can be grown synthetically. Our next problem was finding a delivery system. You see, the brain has a blood barrier so applying it via the blood wouldn’t reach the target area of the brain. So, we found a particular virus to use as a vector. We stripped out the genetic material and put the Substance P in and it will go directly to the affected area of the limbic system. It’s amazing to think, we could actually heal the brain through using this technology.”

Carol was nodding her head and smiling broadly. “This could be it, I mean, if the trials work you could be on the verge of saving millions of people with lots of different diseases.”

“I know. If we can identify the problematic neuromodulator or neurotransmitter we could fix all kinds of nervous disorders, Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s, epilepsy, migraines, you name it. We could find corresponding viruses to use as vectors and directly deliver treatments,” Jason said proudly.

“No, Jason, you’re thinking too small. This could treat diabetes, obesity, learning disabilities, and much, much more. We could figure out how to treat criminals with vectoring hormones instead of warehousing them in prisons. Jason, this is amazing and you will be famous,” Carol said, though the look on her face said a lot more. She was already thinking of the sales commissions the company could get from this kind of technology and treatments.

Jason was a bit taken back by Carol’s reaction. The look on her face was pure maniacal glee from what he could tell.

“I’m not sure that will be possible but…”

“Jason, you’re a genius. This will change the world forever,” Carol said. “I better go though. I’ve got an appointment with Madison and he hates it when I’m late.”

Jason gave her a warm goodbye and went back to his spreadsheets. If these results were interpreted correctly, the mice were responding well. Now, if it showed more…

“Dr. Hampton. Your two o’clock appointment is here for you,” his administrative assistant said through the intercom on his desk set phone. It startled him and Jason dropped the pen he’d been swirling in his hand.

“I’ll be ready in a minute,” Jason said after calming his frazzled nerves. He hated seeing patients now, though it was important to keep reviewing and collecting human data from actual people. Jason realized after Rick’s death, he couldn’t handle seeing men as patients. It drove him to distraction so he picked patients with female names. It wasn’t exactly scientific, but it made his life much easier.

“Send her in,” Jason said pressing the intercom button and pulling out a fresh notebook. He preferred handwritten notes while speaking with a patient. It was taped as well, of course. Jason found writing notes helped him process what the person was saying.

As he fumbled with the drawer, he heard the door open and shut. “Please, have a seat and I’ll be right with you,” Jason said in his “detached yet friendly” voice. Now, if he could just get that damn drawer closed all the way…

“Where do you want me to sit?” a deep baritone voice asked.

“Wherever you’d- I’m sorry,” Jason said looking up in shock. Standing right by his office door was a man, shaved head, his cheeks blotchy with nervousness, and wearing tight jeans and a sweatshirt over a t-shirt. He had the build of a middle weight boxer and was swaying on his heels, clutching and unclutching his fists.

“I’m not sure you’re in the right place,” Jason said quickly pulling the intake sheet from his inbox. “I’ve expecting a Tracy Jones.”

“That’s me,” the man said his voice quivering. “Should I come back later? I, err, I mean, you weren’t expecting me?”

Jason sighed. He never expected a male Tracy to get through his process but sure enough, there on the intake form was a box checked ‘male.’ He should look into these more carefully.

“No, please, have a seat,” Jason sighed. “My name is Dr. Jason Hampton. I was expecting a woman,” he said making the man’s flushed face get even redder.

“It’s a family name. I go by my middle name. It’s Clay.”

Jason pushed the feeling of panic down deeply and waved his hand at the chair opposite his own. “Please, sit. I’ll be just a moment.”

The buffed man sat carefully in the chair and looked down at his fingers. They almost seemed to spasm and Jason felt a surge of empathy.

“Sit back and get comfortable. I just need to get some water,” he explained unnecessarily and stood up from behind the desk. Jason rubbed the scar on his forehead and gave the man a forced smile. “Everything is gonna be just fine.”

Clay just nodded and watched as Jason headed out the door.

“Is everything okay?” Serena asked standing up at the doctor’s harried appearance. “You’re looking flushed and breathing hard.”

“I’m fine. I just need some water. Get him a bottle too.”

As his administrative assistant rushed off, Jason calmed his breathing. He took a couple of deep breaths and that seemed to settle his rising panic. “He’s just a man in need of help. That’s what you do,” Jason intoned. “Now get back in there.”

“Dr. Hampton, should I call someone? You’re white as a ghost,” Serena said handing him two bottles of water.

“I’m fine now. I just had an episode. Everything’s fine, really,” Jason said smiling and patting her hand. “I better get in there before he tries to run, huh?”

Serena nodded but still looked concerned. She watched as Jason went back into his office. He hadn’t been this way in quite some time.

Jason walked into his office and saw the man looking at a picture on the wall next to his bookcase.

“Do you know who that is?” Jason asked. Clay looked guiltily at him.

“It’s Alan Turing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, are you a history buff or a science geek?” Jason asked. His panic was easing considerably especially seeing the nervous tic twitch in the big man’s cheek. This close he noticed the other man was even bigger than he’d first perceived. As Clay moved away from the poster, Jason could see the muscles ripple under the sweatshirt, bulging at his neck.

“I like history. What Turing did was pretty amazing, breaking the Nazi codes and all,” Clay said watching Jason carefully. “And they repaid him by persecuting him.”

“You are a history buff,” Jason said smiling at the other man. “Not many people know that story.”

“Well, I’m gay so I like to read about gay people in history,” Clay said, his voice suddenly became raspy. “I mean, is that okay? You might not wanna treat me or something.”

Jason found the other man’s reaction quite humorous and laughed, long and hard. “Quite the contrary,” he said noting Clay’s growing tics. “I’m gay myself so no worries. I’m not about to throw you out because of that.”

“Oh, okay,” Clay said blushing furiously. “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.”

“Please, have a seat and let’s get started,” Jason said pointing to the chair. “I think we have some work to do.”

Clay sat gingerly on the edge of the chair and waited for Jason to get behind his desk.

“So, tell me about yourself,” Jason said looking over the slim file.

“Well, I’m 34 years old, a firefighter, I live alone, and- wait, don’t you have my information?” Clay asked.

“I do but in order to make these sessions work, we need to establish rapport,” Jason answered after a moment of thinking. “I want to hear about you in your own words.”

Clay paused and cleared his throat. “Okay, do you want to hear about my childhood or something?”

“If you’d like. Just tell me about Clay,” Jason said smiling. His earlier feelings had diminished especially looking at the obviously distressed man fidgeting in the chair in front of him. Jason thought the man was quite cute, wiggling in discomfort.

“Well, I grew up in a small town in Iowa. My dad was a deputy sheriff in the county we lived in and my mom worked part time at the school,” Clay continued.

Jason listened as the man told his life story. It wasn’t really a remarkable story. In fact, it was pretty mundane. Clay became a firefighter because he believed his father did good things for the community and he wanted to do the same.

Jason also began to take stock of the man as he took notes. Clay’s head was shaved bald and tanned. He had a frequent smile on his face as he talked about his sister and two brothers. His eyes sparkled as he recalled playing football in high school and how his mother went to every single game he was in. It was a nice story. Jason wondered what could have happened to have brought Clay here.

“After I graduated from high school, I went to Northwest Iowa Tech for firefighting. It was something I was drawn to, for some reason. After graduation, I couldn’t find a job around home so I began applying up here in the Cities. I got a job first as an EMT and then Minneapolis hired me eight years ago.”

“When did you start having problems sleeping?” Jason asked scanning the man’s file.

“I don’t know. It just kinda started getting harder to fall asleep,” Clay said, nervously, again. “I have bad dreams and I think that makes me want to stay awake.”

“Tell me about your dreams,” Jason said.

Clay shifted in his chair. “They are almost always the same,” he said looking down. “I lied to you.”

“About what?” Jason asked leaning forward.

“I know when I started having trouble. It was after the big fire on New Year’s day this year,” Clay mumbled. “It was that apartment fire when I watched…oh God,” and the man started sobbing.

It took all Jason’s strength to not come from behind the desk and comfort the man. He was breaking down and it was so hard to watch, but he had to keep his professional distance. After a few moments, Jason stood up handing Clay a couple of tissues.

“It’s okay. That’s what I’m here for, to help,” Jason said. Clay wiped his tears and cleared his throat. He took a drink from the water bottled and sniffled.

“It’s really hard to talk about because I dream about that morning over and over. Each time it seems to get worse. I get panic attacks sometimes and other times I’m so enraged I can’t control myself. It’s killing me,” Clay said and the tears began again. “I can’t live like this. Sometimes I just think it would be easier to- never mind. That’s crazy.”

Jason knew suicide ideation when he heard it. This wasn’t good. Clay’s mental state was dangerous. He needed some testing and some medication and fast.

“What medications have you tried? I see here you have been to a couple of doctors,” Jason said leafing through the file. “Oh, so Zoloft and Prozac didn’t help?” Jason

“No. The drugs seemed to make it worse. I couldn’t stand the thoughts I’d get,” Clay said woodenly. Jason could see that the man felt hopeless and seemed defeated. The man needed serious help right away.

“I think we should try some stronger medication that could help with the dreams and the panic attacks,” Jason said smiling at the burly man.

“I am going crazy,” Clay said and rubbed his face hard. “You’re gonna put me on anti-psychotics aren’t you?”

Obviously the man had done his research. That was exactly what Jason was going to try. The anti-psychotic medications didn’t really help. They were at best a mask for the symptoms. But, they made a person less likely to entertain suicidal thoughts. That was the biggest threat here. First, get Clay to see some hope.

“I was thinking some anti-psychotics would help you cope with the feelings and let you get some rest. You look exhausted and I think we can’t deal with the underlying problems without getting you in a better state of mind. I realize this seems extreme but you need help and this is the best way.”

Clay nodded, no doubt his ego was taking a huge hit. Jason looked at the firefighter slumped in his chair, mulling over his suggestions. It was so like Rick.

No. Clay looked nothing like Rick. That wasn’t accurate. Ricardo was a proud stoic Cuban man who in the beginning never let Jason know what was going on in his head. The psychiatrist thought it was his stubborn nature that enabled his problems to run roughshod over his life. After coming back from overseas, he noticed changes in Rick but discounted them until it was too late. Jason blamed himself for not seeing the signs, the red eyes, the moodiness, the distance, and eventually the rages. Rick had always been passionate but it wasn’t passion near the end. It had been madness. Rick’s lover was a psychiatrist and never saw the problems until it killed him.

In the end, Rick had shaved his head too.

But, Clay’s head was shaven because there was definite male pattern baldness going on. The shadow of his hair line ran on top of his head. Rick had a full head of hair and when it had been a couple of days, the black shadow was evident at the top of his forehead.

It was completely different. That’s what Jason told himself as he listened to Clay talk about how it tore him up inside. Clay’s feelings gushed out of him though he didn’t talk about The Incident. They ended the session with appointments for PET scans of the firefighter’s brain and a round of strong sleep medication. Jason didn’t want to try anti-psychotics quite yet. Clay seemed especially relieved at that. He didn’t want to think of himself as crazy and Jason appreciated that.

***********************

“Sure enough, right there in the limbic region there’s a little half-moon of zero brain activity on the PET scan. It’s just like those in the mice we’ve been testing,” Jason said swirling the water in his glass. He was having his usual long Friday lunch with Carol and recounting what he found with Clay’s tests.

“Fascinating. Too bad the treatment isn’t ready for human trials. You still have more tests with the mice right? Then you publish your findings and you take the next step,” Carol said biting her lip, her dark eyes peering at Jason. She looked troubled.

“Yeah. It is too bad because this man’s got a classic case of neuro-necrosis. Substance P could really make a difference with him. He’s not responded to the SSRI’s and the anti-psychotics are only making him a zombie. The man is not doing well,” Jason said looking back at his colleague. He had a gleam in his eye that Carol didn’t like.

“You’re not thinking of treating him with this untested drug, are you?”

“No. Of course not. That would be insane,” Jason said, but even his own words didn’t convince him. He’d been entertaining the idea for the past couple of weeks. Clay wasn’t getting better. In fact, the second round of PET scans had shown the little half-moon had plumped up some.

“You better not even consider it. You’d be destroying your career and your entire life if anyone found out,” Carol warned. “I think you’re becoming obsessed with this case.”

Jason tried to contain his building rage at the accusation. “Obsessed? The man’s a goddamned hero. He has six commendations and has saved lives. I think he deserves someone to make sure he’s taken care of.”

Carol’s response was to tighten her lips. She noticed how wane and tired Jason looked. He seemed positively stricken with worry. It was hard to maintain distance in the professional doctor/patient relationship, but this troubled her more than she could express.

“What was the activating incident for this patient?” she asked.

“You remember the ice storm on New Year’s eve and the fire in that apartment in Cedar-Riverside?” Jason said rubbing his face.

“Wasn’t there an explosion and a firefighter died right?” she said growing alarmed.

“This patient was the partner of the one who died. They’d been getting the family out of the apartment. My patient had a little girl in his arms heading for the window and ladder. His partner was carrying a little boy. They didn’t know there was a propane tank under the sink in the kitchen. As Cla-, my patient climbed out the window, the blast killed his partner and the little boy. My patient was covered in, well, it was a messy scene and it really messed him up.”

“So he’s got some serious survivor guilt built up too?” Carol asked.

“No, I think he’s past that. He had a good therapist but the incident caused this neuro-necrosis as he was dealing with witnessing his partner’s death and that of the little boy. He has lingering effects and I’m concerned with his suicidal thoughts,” Jason sighed. “He’s an actual hero and he’s alone in dealing with this.”

“What about his family and the other firefighters? His friends?” Carol asked even as she knew what that answer would be.

“He’s withdrawn from everyone and refuses to tell his family about his issues. He’s so scared they’ll think he’s crazy. Of course, it’s not a rational fear but I’m afraid if I push too hard he could snap.”

Carol placed a hand on top of Jason’s, patting it slowly. “You know you need to keep some distance from him. I’m afraid you’re becoming too attached to him. It’s not good for him and definitely not good for you. Are you transferring your feelings for Rick to this man?”

Jason could feel the anger growing again but he stomped it down. The last thing Carol needed to think was this was some kind of emotional issue of his own. This was about a patient who was so genuine and who’d saved lives. Clay needed someone in his corner helping him. It wasn’t about Jason. It was about Clay.

“I just feel sorry for the man. I’m feeling empathy for a man who was injured, physically injured, and needs some help. That’s all I’m doing.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. I see my friend looking positively distraught about a patient, which is unlike you. Are you sleeping okay?” Carol asked leaning closer.

“I’ve had a couple of nights of insomnia but that’s not unusual for me. It happens from time to time,” Jason lied. He never had trouble sleeping. Clay’s case kept waking him up. Never mind the other things; he couldn’t get through a whole night without getting up for a while and pacing about his apartment.

“Alright. Just don’t do anything stupid,” Carol said and picked up the check. It was her turn to pay and Jason watched her pull out a credit card. He hoped he hadn’t said too much. He’d already made up his mind and Clay had agreed.

Later that afternoon, Jason went over the plan in his head again. It was illegal, unethical, and highly dangerous to both he and Clay. Jason remembered the tipping point like it just last night.

Clay gave Jason’s number to a neighbor of his. With high risk suicide cases, it was standard procedure to have someone close to by to check on the patient. She was all Clay had and her call set off his willingness to do something this risky.

It was two weeks ago and the phone had awaken him. Jason answered and the frantic woman whispered there was screaming and crashes in Clay’s apartment. She would have called the police, but it didn’t sound like anyone else was inside.

Jason thanked her and said he would handle it. He quickly drove to the address from his file and knocked on Clay’s door. There was no answer. He’d called out and after a few minutes, Jason heard the lock click. He stepped inside to a mess.

There were broken dishes everywhere. The television had a curtain rod sticking out of it. There were chairs overturned and a cloud of smoke hung in the air. Jason didn’t see Clay at first. He called his name and closed the door behind him.

Jason saw a foot and heard sobbing. It was coming from a hallway. He walked over to look inside. It was pitch black but he could hear Clay sniffling and choking. Jason turned on the light and his heart sank.

Rocking in the corner was the firefighter, his arms cradled around his legs. Clay’s face was buried in his knees but he was wailing so loudly it was frightening.

“Clay, what happened?” Jason asked softly. The man looked up and his face was wet with tears.

“I can’t handle it anymore. If I even smell smoke, I freak out. I’m just, I can’t…” Clay sobbed.

“It’s okay,” Jason said and walked over sitting next to the man. “Just tell me what happened.”

Clay snorted and moved away from Jason. “I was just cooking a fucking pizza and I fell asleep. It starting smoking and it brought the whole thing back to me. I’m a fucking firefighter and the smell of a fucking burning pizza sets me off. My life is ruined. It’s all over,” Clay said. “I’m sorry doc. I’m too broken to fix.”

Jason’s eyes filled with tears. He couldn’t hear those words, those familiar words he’d heard his lover say without it making him sick inside. “Come here,” Jason said and took the man into his arms. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll get you past this.”

Jason had stayed the night, sleeping on the couch. In the morning, Clay’s embarrassment was evident. Jason assured him it was perfectly normal given his diagnosis. This wasn’t anything abnormal. Clay didn’t seem reassured but Jason was adamant.

Clay’s words haunted him though.

The last weekend he’d had with Rick had been much the same only ending far more tragically. For Rick, it wasn’t smoke that triggered his outbursts. It had been lightning.

At first, Jason thought the trigger was thunder but Rick never seemed agitated or alarmed by the sound. It was a bright flash of light in the dark that set his lover off. In the end, it hadn’t even been actual lightning that drove Rick insane with despair.

This incident with the burning pizza and Clay’s outburst had forced Jason into thinking of a solution. Substance P was the only answer for this man. Sure, there were laws in place and ethical considerations but that hadn’t always been the case.

In the past, doctors had experimented on patients all the time. Before the golden age of pharmaceuticals, doctors would use treatments that later became established practices. That’s how they discovered aspirin and anesthesia and therapies. Most of the basic practices in medicine had come from doctors in patients’ homes trying to help people.

That rationalization led Jason to start planning. He would need Clay to stay with him so he could study the effects and determine the dosages. Obviously, the firefighter couldn’t get treatment in a hospital or clinic so Jason’s home would have to be the venue. Jason took a two week vacation from work. It would take at least that long but he couldn’t take more time than that without arousing suspicion, especially with Carol. He feared she would cause trouble if she knew too much.

Jason was worried how Clay would react to his proposition. Even considering all the problems and dangers involved, the firefighter had jumped at the idea. He was so scared and in such despair, the lifeline Substance P therapy offered gave Clay hope. Jason was concerned the man’s expectations might be too high, but he never said anything about that. Seeing Clay’s smiling face made Jason smile himself.

So the time had come.

Jason picked Clay up at his apartment and drove to his house on Oak Grove, high above Loring Park. He prepared a bedroom overlooking the park. Since they wouldn’t be able to leave the house, it would give Clay something pleasant to look at during his recovery.

Clay unpacked and came out to the living room. Jason was pacing, wondering how he’d gotten to this point. As soon as he saw the burly firefighter neatly dressed in khakis and a polo shirt that showed off his impressive arms and broad chest, the doctor’s nervousness eased. Clay looked at him with such faith and trust. Jason sighed and told him to sit.

“So what are you going to do? How will this work?” Clay asked, his voice meek and quiet.

“You’ve been given a complete physical so I’m just going to take your vitals and monitor. I put the Substance P in a capsule that you will swallow. By this evening, you should be feeling some of the effects. We don’t know exactly how it affects humans but the trial mice seem to be a little uncomfortable a few hours after the treatment. You will take capsules of the drug each morning for a week. During that time, I’ll just keep an eye on you.”

Clay nodded and swallowed hard. “I’m ready. I’m scared but if I have any chance of regaining my life, I’ve got to try this.”

“Okay, here we go,” Jason said and handed the firefighter the capsule. Clay swallowed it and took a drink of water. “Let’s just get comfortable. Do you wanna watch a movie?”

Clay agreed and they spent most of the day either watching movies or playing cards. Clay was very quiet while Jason filled the space between them with free association babbling. By four o’clock in the afternoon, Clay was getting drowsy. He went to his bedroom.

Jason looked in on Clay a couple of hours later. The man was lying on the bed with his eyes open.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I feel weird. My head feels weird, kind of throbbing,” Clay said woodenly.

“Let me check to see if you are experiencing any other side effects,” Jason said quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

Jason listened to his heart, which was beating normally. Clay’s blood pressure was normal. His lungs sounded clear. There weren’t any skin color issues and his breath smelled fresh. Short of doing blood tests, everything else seemed fine. Clay complained the headache was getting worse.

Jason gave him aspirin. Clay said it helped.

That’s the way they spent every day for a week. Clay would take the capsule in the morning. They’d occupy the time with quiet activities. The headache would come. Jason checked the firefighter for any problems. There were no other changes.

Except at night.

Jason was restless and would wake up and check on Clay numerous times. At first, Clay was obviously having bad dreams and jerked and twitched, sometimes crying out. As the week wore on, Clay’s sleeping became more regular, less troubled. His breathing would be even and normal. Clay said each morning after the first three days, he felt more rested.

After the week’s treatment, Clay’s demeanor improved greatly. He was bright, happy, and had more enthusiasm for everything; food, games, and he even began flirting with Jason. Jason tried to keep it professional but the other man was really very funny. Clay made little insinuations about crawling into bed with him, keeping the doc warm. Jason kept him at arms’ length, though the idea of inviting Clay into his bedroom was now keeping him awake instead of worry.

The second week was like a vacation. Clay was in great spirits. He was sleeping through the night and they even did a little experiment. Jason put sugar in a cast iron skillet and burned it. Smoke wafted through the kitchen door into the living room. Clay grimaced and winced at the smell of it, but he remained rather calm. He wasn’t cured by any means, but he didn’t have a panic attack or lash out.

Jason was thrilled. Not only was his treatment successful for Clay, this meant it would work for humans. He could let the entire process go forward confident he’d found a way to help heal the brain. The application of this new method would change medicine forever. His name would be in history books like Jonas Salk or Walter Reed.

Clay went home the second weekend. Jason felt any side effects would have shown up and the firefighter said he felt much better. Jason hoped this wasn’t a case of the placebo effect or simply a naturally occurring fix. If there was marked improvement, the causal element would have to be the Substance P treatment. No other cause could have a dramatic effect.

************************

“Do you want to see what your brain looks like?” Jason asked Clay grinning from ear to ear.

“That sounds weird. I don’t know about that,” Clay smiled back. “You get to look inside my head and I don’t even get to see you naked.”

“Settle down boy,” Jason said but he was pleased at the compliment. His feelings for Clay weren’t as professional as they should be. He wanted to see a bit more of the firefighter himself, not just pictures of his brain.

“Here is the troubled area in the scan before your treatment. See that dark spot, kind of shaped like a half-moon,” Jason pointed to the area on the screen.

“That isn’t good,” Clay said. “Is that what was causing my troubles?”

“We believe so. Now look at the same area, right here,” Jason sat back and watched Clay’s face. There was wonderment on it, and for good reason. Instead of a plump dark space, it had shrank to more of a crescent moon, and a slender crescent at that.

“I’m getting better,” Clay said and grabbed the doctor in both arms. “You did it. You’ve given me the chance at a normal life again. How can I ever repay you?”

“Just seeing you doing better is thanks enough,” Jason blushed. Clay’s arms around him were making him feel things he hadn’t in some time.

“I want to take you to dinner,” Clay said after releasing Jason from the bear hug. “I want to take you to your favorite restaurant to celebrate.”

“I’m not sure that would be wise,” Jason said but the immediate frown on the other man’s face hurt.

“But, let’s do it. Let’s go to dinner but my treat. Remember, you were the Guinea pig after all.”

“As long as you’ll go with me, I don’t care who pays,” Clay said. Jason thought he’d never seen a man look so happy. At least, he hadn’t seen anyone beam like that in a long time. Thoughts of Rick bubbled up from within. Jason quickly suppressed them, swallowing the hurt down hard.

Dinner turned into a trip to a club and dancing. The two men were having a fantastic time and Clay invited Jason up for a nightcap. Jason realized this night had become something so much more than it should be. He was still the man’s doctor after all. Falling for a patient wasn’t ethical. Of course, he’d done so many unethical, hell illegal, things this was the least of his lapses.

He went up. That’s when the nightmare began.

Clay went into his kitchen to make drinks. Jason sat on the sofa and looked around him. The man led a pretty Spartan lifestyle. There were a couple of faded posters on the walls and a dead plant on a shelf but other than books there wasn’t much to look at. Even the firefighter’s television looked unused. It was strange and Jason began to get that weird feeling again. It was like the dreams that woke him up at night. It was like the panic attacks that plagued him. Jason felt an enormous sense of exhaustion. It was late. He should go.

No, he had to get out of there. Who was that coming?

When Clay walked out of the kitchen smiling at Jason, he noticed Jason was looking at him in horror. The firefighter was confused. The twisted look on Jason face was that of abject terror. What could he be scared of? His mouth was agape, eyes wide open and as Clay crossed the threshold into the living room, Jason shrieked.

Jason watched as Rick walked in from the kitchen. The shining light from the overhead light danced on his bald head. He had a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. It was happening…again. Jason’s head exploded as powerfully as his voice.

“Get the fuck away from me Rick! What are you doing?”

Rick got closer and Jason pushed the gun away from him. “NOOOO!!!” he screamed and felt the liquid flow over him. It was blood. It was Rick’s blood just like the last time. It felt cold though. It wasn’t warm on his skin, it was ice cold.

“Stay away from me Rick. I’m warning you. You aren’t going to cut me again. I won’t let you,” Jason screamed at his lover. But, Rick kept coming closer and his words were jumbled, like they’d been garbled in a blender. His bald head was surrounded by light reflecting off of it, just like before.

Jason screamed again as Rick set the knife on the table. “Rick, put away the gun.”

Rick was dripping with blood, his blood and Jason’s blood. His forehead pulsed with pain. Then he knew, Jason knew that Rick would take the gun and shoot himself in the head. He’d shoot away the pain he was feeling.

Jason curled up on the sofa, sobbing loudly. He’d be drenched in blood and hair again. Why was this happening once more?

“It’s me, Clay. Jason? Can you hear me? I’m not Rick. It’s me. Please stop crying. Please, let me hold you,” the firefighter begged. What happened? Just a few minutes ago they were having the time of their lives. Now, Jason was screaming and talking about a knife and a gun. Then, Jason lunged at Clay grabbing something from the coffee table. It all happened so quickly.

*********************

Clay later told the officers that Jason came at him with a broken glass. He’d just managed to get out of the way and into the kitchen. Clay grabbed a kitchen towel and fended off the doctor as Jason tried to slash him. The whole time Jason was crying for Rick to let him out of the house.

Clay didn’t know what that meant. All he knew was Jason was in the hospital in a closed ward.

From the Star Tribune:

Noted psychiatrist and researcher, Dr. Jason Hampton from Luminair Labs was taken by police from the home of one of his patients. Hampton went into a psychotic rage and threatened the man with a weapon. The unnamed victim was taken to the hospital and released after care.

Hampton had been an up and coming pharmaceutical researcher until the suicide of his domestic partner, Ricardo Sandoval. Sandoval was a field photographer who had photos of war zones in several magazines as well as the Star Tribune and Pioneer Press. After witnessing the death of a child from an IED in Lebanon, Sandoval retired. It was only a few short months later he killed himself in a domestic dispute with Hampton, who was injured in the incident as well.

Dr. Carol Littleton of Luminair Labs and friend of Hampton had this to say. “Dr. Jason Hampton had great promise but this past year since his partner’s death has been hard on him. I hope he gets the treatment he needs to get past his issues. We are all there for him.

A Luminair spokesperson said Hampton will be sorely missed and his most recent project has been suspended indefinitely.