New York Medical Center.
"Dr. Burke, here's the patient's CT," Adam reported. "There's clearly a growing bulge in the patient's bladder."
"A tumor?" Dr. Burke asked, startled. He took the CT scan and studied it. "Look at these edges—it doesn't seem like a tumor."
"No, it's not a tumor," Adam confirmed, handing over the biopsy report. "Based on the chromosome analysis, the DNA in the patient's body comes from two different embryos. It fused in the womb. That ovary-shaped bulge? It's an actual ovary."
"What?" Dr. Burke exclaimed, floored. "Bill's got an ovary in his bladder?"
Adam couldn't help but marvel too. Sure, medical textbooks mention cases of hermaphroditism, but seeing it in real life? Mind-blowing.
Dr. Burke reviewed the biopsy report, double-checking that Adam wasn't pulling his leg or misdiagnosing. Nope—his good buddy really had an ovary.
Through the glass window, Dr. Burke locked eyes with Bill in the hospital room and forced a smile.
Maybe it was his imagination, but suddenly Bill looked… prettier? More refined?
It's like when someone hands you a random gift—you don't think much of it at first. Then they show you the price tag, and under the dazzling glow of its value, everything changes.
Damn it! Dr. Burke cursed under his breath.
But there was no getting around it. As Bill's attending physician, he had to break the news face-to-face.
"Go get Dr. Knox from gynecology," Dr. Burke instructed. "We've got an ovary here that needs removing."
Adam nodded and headed off.
Everything went smoothly. Dr. Knox was the best in gynecology, and normally, booking her for surgery took forever. But when the acting surgical director said jump, even her packed schedule got rearranged.
The already-scheduled patients? They'd just have to wait.
Plus, Dr. Knox usually operated on women. Now, cutting an ovary out of a guy? No ambitious doctor—gynecologist or otherwise—would pass that up.
How do you build experience? How do you make a name for yourself? Sure, nailing routine surgeries helps, but it's the rare, wild cases that stack up your résumé.
If no one else has done it—or knows how to—you've got the edge.
Outside the room, Adam peeked through the glass, watching Dr. Burke talk to Bill. He figured it was best to hang back for now.
"The tissue we found isn't a tumor," Dr. Burke started.
"That's good, right? Anything's better than cancer," Bill said, lighting up.
Dr. Burke looked down, bracing himself to drop the bombshell.
"What? You're saying I'm a guy with an ovary?" Bill blinked, totally thrown.
It's like telling a girl she's secretly a gun-toting badass. Well, okay, a real badass would already know. Maybe it's more like a guy who loves cute girls seeing one whip out a pistol…
"It's super rare. Think of it as a glitch when God was putting you together," Dr. Burke said, trying to soften the blow.
Bill went quiet for a sec, then asked shakily, "I'm still a man, right?"
"Absolutely," Dr. Burke shot back without hesitation. "Manliest of men! Pure testosterone! You didn't even know this was in there. We cut it out, and you're good as new. I've already lined up the best gynecologist. Surgery's happening ASAP."
Bill nodded, his face a mix of emotions. A guy like him getting surgery from a gynecologist…
If Adam could hear his thoughts, he'd probably say, "Big deal. Back in East Country, battered husbands go to the Women's Federation for help."
Seeing Dr. Burke wrap up and Bill agree, Adam stepped inside. "Dr. Burke, Dr. Knox is ready whenever you are."
"Great," Dr. Burke said with a nod.
The surgery got scheduled fast. As the resident overseeing Bill's case, Adam joined Dr. Burke and Dr. Knox in the OR.
It went off without a hitch—mostly. There was one unexpected twist, though.
"Keep this under wraps," Dr. Burke said as they stepped out of the operating room.
"Got it," Adam agreed instantly.
Dr. Burke rubbed his temples and walked off, looking like he had a headache brewing.
One mess down, another popping up. Finding an ovary in his buddy's body was bad enough. But during the surgery, they'd discovered Bill's vas deferens had been blocked all along—and his wife was five weeks from giving birth…
It was lunchtime. Adam hit up the cafeteria.
"Just you two?" he asked, spotting only George and Meredith at the table.
"Liz went to check on Alex," Meredith said with a smile. "As for Cristina, no idea. She's been acting all secretive lately."
"Yeah," George chimed in. "This morning, she even asked me to cover her shift."
"What?" Meredith gaped. "Cristina asked you to cover for her?"
"Sounds like something big's up," Adam said thoughtfully.
Cristina was the ultimate workaholic. The hospital was basically her home—she ignored the mandatory 5-6-6 rest rule like it didn't exist. Even with a cold or fever, she'd drag her shaky self to work. Always the first to snag a surgery.
And now she was asking for a shift swap?
"What about Liz, huh? Is she nuts?" George said, shifting gears to vent to Adam. "Alex treated her like crap back in the day, and now she acts like they're besties. She's always running off to see him whenever she's free. And he's still a jerk to her! What's going through her head?"
Alex had been saved, sure, but he'd also "entered the palace"—a polite way of saying he'd been fully castrated. Back in ancient East Country's Forbidden City, that'd be a sweet gig: snipped clean and thorough, no need for the every-three-years "minor tune-up" or every-five-years "major overhaul."
But Alex? He'd been a playboy. Now, "surrounded by a harem of gorgeous women," he could only look, not touch. That kind of torture…
Sure, with everything gone, he wouldn't feel that pent-up frustration from a botched job. But testosterone doesn't just come from down there—your adrenal glands pump out some sex hormones too.
No unbearable pressure, maybe. But if the stimulation's strong enough, Alex could still get… ideas. Ideas he couldn't act on. That's a recipe for a mental breakdown.
Liz, though? She didn't hold a grudge—she was doubling down on being nice. Alex swung between touched and pissed off, while Liz just kept at it, loving every second.
"She's got a condition. Needs treatment," Adam said, shaking his head.
There's a type of person out there with an oversized urge to care for the sick or "defective"—way more than they'd give a normal person. Kinda like survivor's guilt. Often, it's because they've dealt with some flaw of their own.
So, what's Liz's deal?
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