There were two people in white coats sitting at the desk when I entered the consulting room. It's never good news when there's two doctors, I thought. I felt my knees start to give, and I grabbed at the door post for support. The younger of the two doctors looked as if they were about to stand up, but I raised my hand and smiled. "I'm fine," I said. "Just a little anxious."

She gave me a half-smile. "Do you need a glass of water or something?"

I returned the smile as best I could and sat down in one of the empty chairs. "Maybe a whiskey. And that will have to wait until I'm back home."

The two doctors exchanged glances; then, having decided who was going to be the one who gave me the bad news, the older one spoke up. They probably thought that another middle-aged man would make it easier for me. "It's about your test results," he began.

"No shit," I said. "That's why I'm here."

The older doctor coughed and looked down at the file on the desk, before looking me straight in the eye. I took a deep breath. "We got the results back from the laboratory. And, frankly, we're baffled." He stopped as if expecting me to say something, so I decided not to disappoint him.

"Baffled?" After all those needles, the x-rays and the prodding? After the embarrassing examinations and the endless hours in waiting rooms? I tried to keep my voice calm. "What do you mean, 'baffled'?"

At least he had the courtesy to look embarrassed. "We haven't been able to find anything wrong with you. Well, apart from the usual things a man of our age should be on the look out for. And those are still within normal levels, so -."

"Look." I leaned forward in my chair, shifting my gaze between the two doctors. "Are you saying that there's nothing wrong with me?"

"Well," the older one said, "that's what we need to find out. We'll schedule some more tests. Maybe a brain scan?"

"Great." I shook my head. "Right. That doesn't sound good, you know?" I leaned back in the chair and stared at the stained ceiling tiles, trying not to count the dots in the patterns. "And just as I was getting my life back together. My daughter moved out. A new companion in my life."

The younger doctor held up a questioning finger. "You're a widower?"

"Yes."

"But you said you'd found a new companion?"

I nodded. "Yes. We met at my writing group."

"Just before these tremors started?"

"Uh-huh."

"And your relationship is a physical one?"

"Well, it had been five years. I've been making up for lost time."

She gave me a shit-eating grin. "I think I might know the cause, then."