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Longevity

Longevity Center, Oahu

The doctor sat across from Steve with a laptop open to his results. "You've had quite a bit of physical trauma, Commander."

"Steve, please. I was active duty for fifteen years, six on a SEAL team." He shrugged. "I've gotten banged up a few times heading the task force, too."

The doctor consulted the MRI and sliced imaging scans. " 'Banged up' is putting it mildly, but overall I'd say you're in excellent shape." He shook his head. "It's remarkable, really. All your tests are normal. Better than average, in fact. Your cardiac risk lipid profile and blood pressure are lower than average, and your visceral fat level is in line with an athlete ten years your junior. Your lung and brain scans are clear." He pointed to a section of the scan. "You have some peripheral internal scarring from an abdominal surgery. Accident?"

"Knife wound."

"Ah, it healed perfectly well. Just, like I said, there's peripheral stitch scarring. And on your back, blast scar?"

"Yeah." He didn't elaborate.

"Stitched in the field?"

Steve nodded.

"It was well done." He looked back at the screen. "Your calcium scoring is zero, arteries clear, heart normal. Contrast stress test was superior. It's well above normal limits for a younger man, actually.

I'm sure with your background you're familiar with The Bruce Protocols?" He indicated a chart outlining the maximum amount of oxygen an individual can take in and use during intense or maximal exercise. When Steve nodded, he continued, "The VO2 Max Norms for men your age, even very fit ones, are 41 to 49.4; your score is 51.1 - which falls under excellent for a 20 to 39 year old. You're clearly diligent about exercise."

"I keep up a modified workout from BUDs," he said by way of explanation.

"That's wonderful to hear. I can skip the please exercise speech," he said amiably. "Our administering cardiologist notes here it took full incline at 7 mph to keep you at 153 BPM for the test." He swiped to the next screen. "I see you'll be forty this week." He grinned. "Happy early birthday. Any particular concerns bring you here?"

"Uh thanks." Steve glanced down, then back at the doctor. "Not really, no. My niece, my partner's daughter, suggested it. She'd read how cops and first responders are dying from preventable diseases."

He thought back two weeks to his conversation with Danny after Grace suggested they go.

"Wait wait you're in, Commander leap first, look second? Because you want another cholesterol contest?"

"I'll beat your numbers every time, but I'm in because I need to stay alive for Niblet. And Catherine, of course - even more now because I couldn't leave her alone to raise ..."

He raised a hand. "Hey, hey. I get it, babe."

Steve nodded. "The job has so many inherent and unpredictable dangers, I want to make sure I'm on top of any that I can control." He knew his best friend understood one hundred percent. A small smile graced his lips as he added, "I'll do whatever I can to lower the risk of leaving her to grow up without me."

"I know you will." Danny clapped him on the shoulder. "Welcome to my world."

"Your niece is a smart lady." The doctor's words brought him back to the present.

Steve couldn't help but smile. "She's fourteen."

"Even smarter then. She's being proactive about her family's health. You know better than anyone there's lots of stress on the job. That, coupled with poor eating habits borne of being on the run and sometimes crazy hours…" he smiled sympathetically, "like doctors, first responders aren't the best at taking care of themselves. I'm glad to see you're an exception, but you need to keep an eye on stress levels, just be aware. That's a huge issue for police officers. Long shifts, inability to relax, unwinding with a few drinks can easily become self medicating with alcohol. They also have a high divorce rate as I'm sure you know." He turned to fully face Steve. "I'm going to venture to say there's some coping method that seems to work for you because even at a low level, PTSD is always a factor we ask about in our veterans, reservists and police officers." He placed his hands on his desk. "You've seen a lot, son."

Steve nodded. "I'm good, I have … dreams sometimes, but my wife," he brightened uttering her name, "Catherine, she's a reservist, too - served 17 years, did three tours. She saw a lot of action. We're together twenty years. She gets it, gets me, she has 'em sometimes, too. I talk to her."

"Long marriage. No problems there?"

"No. None." His lip twitched up in another small grin. "We'll be married a year next month, actually."

The doctor raised a curious eyebrow, but his only comment was, "Congratulations."

Steve uncharacteristically offered, "Our daughter's due June 29th," unsolicited as his eyes crinkled with a full-on smile.

"Wonderful. Marriage and baby all in a year. That good stress is still stress, however. Make sure you manage it."

"She's why I'm here. My daughter."

"She's a lucky girl, her dad wants to stick around for her."

"For as long as possible."

The doctor swiped to the next screen. "Looks like you're on your way to that. You're good to go. I'll get a copy of the results onto our portal for you."

Steve stood and offered his hand. "Thanks. I'm gonna go see if my partner's done." He raised his chin in the direction of the waiting room.

"Good to meet you. Take care, now."

He grinned and thought of feeling Niblet kick against his hand that morning. "I'll do my best."


Danny rounded the corner just as Steve stepped into the waiting room. "How'd ya do?"

"Better than you."

"Be like that," he scoffed. "I'm not telling you my numbers."

It was their way of saying, 'I'm fine, glad you are, too.'

Steve smirked. "I can requisition them."

"I can return your birthday present on the way home."

The banter continued until Danny dropped Steve off at the Capitol's entrance. "Go ahead Mister perfect numbers, go tell Catherine you're gonna outlive me."

"I never said …"

"I did. Because you cause me quadruple the stress I cause you, therefore you're gonna kill me off. Unless I lose it and come after you with my cane in the senior center and our daughters have to pull us apart." He had one hand on the wheel and Steve was leaning into the window hiding his grin, as Danny waved him off. "Go run a hundred miles with your beautiful, brilliant, non-cranky, still jogging-like-an-athlete, pregnant wife."

"It's pancake night. We ran this morning." Steve smirked.

He rolled his eyes. "I have no idea what that means, nor do I want to."

"Good night, Danny. Tell Gracie thanks for the checkup idea. And for the record…" He straightened and spoke through the open window. "You may have the senior center bingo caller after you with a cane when you won't shut up …" He stopped at Catherine's chuckle and turned to see her behind him. "Hey."

"Hey." She stepped into his brief hug. Bending to wave she said, "Hi, Danny," before adding, "how did you guys do?"

"He's fine." Danny said, then repeated to her midriff, "Hear that, Niblet? Your crazy father is fine." He cocked his head, pretending to listen. "What's that? You got it. Uncle Danno will tell them." He looked at his friends and smirked as he put the car in drive. "She said to tell you she likes the name Danielle…" he laughed and with a grin firmly in place, drove away with Catherine chuckling and Steve rolling his eyes, calling, "we are not naming her Danielle…" after the car.


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