Life Hack

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Book excerpt

Chapter 1

Hack

Hack Humphrey sat uncomfortably on the hospital stretcher. His behind was directly touching the paper sheet, and he could feel the air getting into the back of his gown. He looked at the closed door, and the fluorescent light hurt his eyes. Could this be any more undignified? He was a billionaire, for fuck’s sake! He was used to people kissing his ass, not feel the breeze pass by it.

The door opened and Doctor Robert MacArthur entered. His lifelong friend looked worried, a deep crease furrowing his forehead. Hack’s eyebrows pulled together as well, as if called by the other man’s expression. That’s a wake face, but I’m not dead. Not yet, anyway. His eyebrows pulled even closer.

Sensing his mood, Rob fixed his signature smile in place. “Are you still in those ridiculous clothes?” His mouth burst into the mocking laugh that always put Hack on edge.

“Nobody told me I could change, you ass. And what took you so long? I’m a busy man, in case you don’t remember.”

Hack jumped down from the stretcher and ripped the gown. His six-foot two-inch naked frame strode effortlessly to the bathroom and reappeared exactly twelve minutes later in a dark blue suit, a silver tie, and polished black leather shoes.

Rob whistled. “Who’s getting married?”

“Not me. That’s for sure. I have a meeting with the Brazilian ambassador. Tough negotiation, but we’re getting there.”

“Oh, Brazil: hot chicks and caipirinhas. I can imagine how hard that might be…”

Hack huffed. “C’mon. You already did the put-Hack-at-ease show. Now tell me what the hell is going on. I only came to see you for a cramp in my leg!”

Fake smile crumbling, the doc sat down on his chair with a plop, and Hack did the same on the other side of the maple-colored desk.

“Alright. Let me explain. When you came in for the cramp, I figured it could be a potassium deficiency, so I ordered the tests. But then, once you were here, I had to check the other basic numbers—it’s standard procedure. While doing it, we found that you have a slight arrhythmia, your cholesterol levels are off the charts, and you have above average blood pressure.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, you’re a heart attack waiting to happen.”

Hack sighed. “Oh man… I knew I shouldn’t have come. So, can we fix this? Don’t you have a pill I can take and get on with it?”

“Sure I do. Three of them, actually.”

“You have the solution? Then why the wake face?”

Rob looked down, avoiding Hack’s eyes, and took a pad. The handwriting was the one of a scribe, not an MD, and the pen was a gold and silver Mont Blanc. “Here are the prescriptions you need to take. One of each in the morning before breakfast. Come back in three months for another checkup.” He slid the paper forward with his left hand while his right hand’s fingertips tapped a rhythm on the table.

Hack’s chin dipped for a second. Then he took the prescription, folded it and put it in the breast pocket of his shirt. Both men stood up and shook hands.

“Lunch at the club on Saturday?” Hack’s bass voice sounded casual.

Rob grinned, his clown face back in place. “It depends. Are you paying?”

“Man, how can you be so cheap? Yes, I’m paying.”

“Well, you pay off my debts and I buy lunch.”

“No way. I buy lunch, you pay your debts.”

“Alright, if you insist.” A smirk pulled halfway up, and Rob’s pupils shone with mischief.

“Twelve sharp. Don’t make me wait or you pay.”

“I’ll be there.” The doctor nodded, opening the door.

* * *

It was a sunny day, and the river sparkled cheerfully behind the golf course. Hack’s fingers folded and unfolded the napkin distractedly, while his eyes roamed the low hills with greener than green grass.

His mind was somewhere else though.

Rob’s message had been an odd one, and the whole situation would be highly entertaining if his health weren’t on the line. His friend had tapped on the table in Morse code, soft so it wouldn’t be heard. The cryptic message read:

“No take. T.I.P.”

They hadn’t used that kind of kiddy communication since they were children pretending to be spies. Talk In Person. What was he up to now?

At five after twelve, Rob appeared. The right corner of Hack’s mouth twitched before his friend’s choice of clothing. The polo shirt was a real polo shirt, a La Martina Russian Yellow Cab team shirt.

Sitting at the table, Rob pulled his cell phone, opened the back and took the battery out, sliding both pieces into the side pocket of his shorts. Hack lifted one eyebrow.

“Later. Let’s eat.”

The waiter appeared, bringing spicy bread, pâté and a bottle of Chamonard Morgon 2009, pouring a small amount into Hack's glass. Hack swirled the glass in front of his nose, took a small sip and nodded once. The maître served both glasses with graceful precision.

“What’s on the menu today, Patrick?” Rob asked, after a brief glance at the name tag.

“Three courses, sir?”

Rob nodded emphatically.

“Just main course and dessert for me,” Hack interrupted.

“In the seasonal cuisine, I can offer you a spicy bruschetta with flowers butter followed by quail with asparagus sauce, and a side of kuman sweet potatoes, purple carrots and nasturtium salad, right from our organic garden. In French cuisine, the creamy escargot soup is fantastic for an appetizer.”

Hack controlled his need to pull a face when hearing escargots, but he was not going to be eating snails anytime soon. “Just sirloin with lion’s mane mushrooms and a side of pomme noisette with cayenne pepper sauce for me, please. No salt.”

“I’ll take the seasonal menu, please,” Rob added quickly, offering one of his toothpaste ad smiles.

When the waiter cleaned up the table and brought coffee, Rob changed his cheerful disposition. One minute he was giving very detailed explanations about different folkloric dance styles in South America, and the next, his mouth fell shut, and his eyes became glossy and haunted.

“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“It’s bad.”

“Why? I’m not going to have a heart attack just now…”

“No. You don’t understand. It’s the side effects of the drugs I’m worried about. But I can’t talk about it in the office. I am being watched, and I could lose my license.”

“What?” Hack’s face took a falcon quality.

Rob crouched forward, his eyes darting around.

“I don’t know if I’m becoming paranoid, but I think they’ve been using my own phone to spy on me.”

“If there’s enough money on the table, they might. Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

A deep sigh left his friend’s chest. “This is what happened. There’s an agreement between the clinic and this new pharmaceutical company, Bymex LLC. If the tests come back positive for cholesterol, we have to prescribe their version of the statin drug. It seemed like a reasonable deal, and they lent the money for the new clinic downtown sans interest. It’s a hundred-million-dollar project.”

Hack’s fingers raked his hair. “Clever. They have your bosses by the nuts.”

Rob gave him a dirty look. “I’ve been prescribing it for a year, and it showed good results in older guys as protection from a second heart attack. But six months ago, the target group was extended. It has to be prescribed to both men and women of any age, with total cholesterol above the threshold, independent of previous cardiac issues. Right about then, one of my soccer buddies came to see me. Now, I could get into hellish trouble for saying what I’m about to say, so please do not repeat this to anyone…”

Hack nodded.

“I gave him the typical prescriptions to correct his numbers. They were similar to yours, but he had no arrhythmia. Two months later he came back because he had erectile problems. He was also gaining weight, and getting softer, losing his edge. We tested for testosterone and it was low. So I followed the clinic’s recommended protocol and gave him a testosterone cream, also from the same company.”

Rob took a deep breath, and Hack inhaled too. This is it.

“His balls and dick shrank.” Rob let the air out.

Hack eyebrows shot up.

“I’m not kidding. This guy is forty-two and his life is over.” Rob picked up his napkin from his lap and put it at the side of his plate with a theatrical movement.

“Have you spoken with your bosses about this?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Rob massaged his chin. “They recommended I read the literature and see how the possible rare side effects of these drugs are standard to all the brands. Roger went on to explain that we are heroes who do heroic medicine, and we are at war with sickness. And all wars damage the terrain and can provoke additional problems to be dealt with in the future.”

“Is it true? Are they all the same?”

“I have no idea. All the papers sponsored by the industry I’ve read say the products are wonderful, and all the so-called independent studies say they are very dangerous, some even say they are also useless for the intended purpose.”

“Interesting double whammy.”

“Indeed.” Rob sighed. “Someone is playing with the numbers, but I don’t know enough to tell the difference.”

“How independent are the independent studies?”

“I have no clue.”

Lost in deep thought, Hack bobbed his head slowly from side to side. “What a brilliant business model. They create a hungry market, promote via authority, have the mediators in the pocket… I wish I could do something like that…”

Rob gawked at him, then smiled. “Interesting how you see the business side first, and the moral side later. On the other hand, your online store wins all the awards for quality and service. I think you do have a heart somewhere…”

A grin spread across Hack’s face, and light sparkled in his deep blue eyes, HH LLC was one of the biggest online stores in the world, his pride and joy. “Let’s keep it a secret and say it’s just a business strategy.” After glancing down for two heartbeats, he focused on his friend. “Alright. So I can’t take those medicines, or my dick will fall off. Now, how do I solve the problem? Is it there a non-heroic path?”

“Only on the quack side.” Slanting his lower lip, Rob took a paper and wrote a number. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered, giving the paper to Hack. “This is the number of a guy who practices functional medicine.” He quoted the air with his fingers when mentioning the last two words. “I lost one of my patients to him. This man was fifty, with the typical cholesterol/high blood pressure issue and his testosterone levels were going down fast. Recently I called him to see how he was doing. He said he had never felt better and his new wife was pregnant.”