Ward Room.
Adam strolled over, taking a close look.
"Duncan, what's your take?"
Dr. Bailey glanced up at him.
"Probably not pregnant," Adam said, examining the patient. "Not just fat either. Most likely a tumor—teratoma, to be exact!"
"A teratoma? At his age and gender?"
Dr. Bailey blinked, caught off guard.
"Yeah, it's rare," Adam said with a chuckle. "But still more likely than him being pregnant, right?"
"I'm not pregnant?"
The man with the swollen belly protested. "But the pregnancy test came back positive! I've done it at home a bunch of times too—all positive!"
To him, being pregnant beat being labeled a nutcase. Doing what others couldn't was a flex, after all.
"Pregnancy tests work by detecting hCG in a woman's urine," Adam explained. "That hormone isn't exclusive to pregnancy, though. A teratoma's a big ol' clump of growing cells—kinda like a fetus—and it can release hCG too, tricking the test into a false positive."
"A fetus? So I am pregnant?" the man yelped.
"Similar, but not quite," Adam corrected. "It's a tumor at its core. It's called a teratoma because it mimics some fetal traits."
"You sure?"
The man stared at his bulging stomach, his expression a mix of hope and dread.
"Nope," Adam said, shaking his head. "Without a detailed report, no one can be 100% sure."
"Any other possibilities?"
The man's wife, also sporting a big belly, couldn't help but ask.
"Yeah," Adam said, launching into some wild Predestination-style brainstorming.
Every head in the room swiveled toward him.
Click! Click!
This time, a bunch of the watching doctors whipped out their cameras.
Imagine this: a guy who could time-travel, forming his own closed loop. Talk about mind-blowing!
Leonard Cooper, you should thank your lucky stars your dad Sheldon didn't have a binge-eating habit. Otherwise, you'd be looking at Sheldon 2.0 instead of existing yourself!
"Mr. Herman clearly hasn't had gender reassignment surgery," Adam said, letting his imagination run wild while grinning. "So, teratoma's still the top bet."
Mrs. Herman's pregnancy might not prove much, but with so many doctors eyeballing Mr. Herman in his hospital gown, there's no way a sex-change op could slip past all these pros unnoticed.
"Dr. Bailey, the CT machine's booked. We can head over now," Liz said, hanging up the phone with a pumped-up vibe.
"Alright," Bailey nodded.
---
CT Room.
"Hey, gang, I lost a bet with a colleague, so I'm stuck doing his scan. Beers tonight are on me too," a chubby girl said, laughing as she sat at the computer. "Next bet: what's in this guy's belly? Wanna play? 10 bucks a pop!"
"Teratoma!" Liz shot her hand up.
"Me too!"
"Same here!"
All the doctors who'd heard Adam's breakdown jumped on the teratoma train. They trusted his call—and who'd pass up easy money?
"…"
The chubby girl froze. What the heck? If you all bet the same thing, who's gonna take the other side?
"I'll play banker and bet against you all," Adam said with a grin. "I'm going with a fetus in Mr. Herman's belly."
Now it was everyone else's turn to look dumbfounded.
"Adam, what's that supposed to mean?" Liz asked, baffled. "You said it's not ascites, not fat—the big odds are on teratoma, like you explained. Why're you betting against us with 'fetus'?"
"'Cause I want it to be a fetus," Adam said, laughing. "If it's not, you guys win, and we all have a good laugh. But if it is a fetus? That's a medical miracle. Even if you lose, you won't care—you'll have witnessed history!"
Liz and the others got it instantly. Adam was a billionaire; he didn't give a rip about pocket change. He genuinely wanted to see a medical marvel unfold—pat-reon:belamy20.
"I'm in!"
"Count me too!"
"Can we up the stakes?"
The docs got hyped, some shameless ones even trying to raise the bet.
"Heh," Adam shot them a look.
A little fun betting on a miracle? Sure, call it a mini bonus for the crew. But actually trying to hustle cash off him? That's just insulting his IQ.
"Just kidding!" the bold one said, backing off with an awkward laugh.
"It's up!" Liz called out.
All eyes snapped to the screen as Mr. Herman's abdominal CT scan popped up.
"OMG!" the chubby girl gasped.
"Ew—is that teeth?" Liz grimaced.
"Lots of bilobed cystic damage, calcifications, an undeveloped jawbone," Adam said, studying the scan. "Too bad it's not fully formed—no hair, skin, or nerve tissue."
"Huh?"
A less-savvy doctor blinked, not quite following.
"Teratomas come in benign and malignant flavors," Adam explained. "Benign ones usually have a mix of tissues. Malignant ones, like this, are poorly differentiated—barely any formed structures."
"Ohhh," the doc finally clicked.
Malignant tumor? Not exactly good news.
"Alright, now that we've confirmed it's a malignant teratoma," Liz said, clapping her hands, "surgery's next. Anyone wanna watch from the gallery? 50 bucks a seat!"
"What the—?!"
The doctors bristled. The gallery's supposed to be free for all—why the steep price tag?
"This surgery's one Christina snatched from Psych," Liz said, standing her ground. "She's stuck doing grunt work as punishment now. If any of you wanna help her out with the dirty jobs, your seat's free. Otherwise, pay up—limited spots, first come, first served!"
"Fine, I'm in."
"Cash only, right?"
"You guys aren't doctors—you're hustlers! Here!"
"We're earning it fair and square—what's wrong with that?"
"…"
Adam's lip twitched as he watched Liz turn into a money-making machine, raking in cash like a pro. These folks sure know how to play the game!
He also figured out why Christina, who'd nabbed the surgery, was sidelined. Too clever for her own good—she'd outsmarted herself right into a corner.