|
The months slipped away. Justin graduated from high school and turned 18 a few days later. He spent his last summer as a complete young man playing basketball with his buddies, Tyler and Jeremy, and going on dates with that girl he seemed more and more interested in. I once questioned him about her, but he assured me that their dates were innocent outings with friends.
Nevertheless, Justin increased his masturbation routine, which caused his mother and I increased anguish. Not only was masturbating in the shower, he was now practicing self-abuse each night before going to bed, in addition to the first thing in the morning when waking-up. We also suspected he was having wet dreams. His bed was a disgusting mess, with huge amounts of thick jets of semen covering both the top and bottom sheets. Often it soaked the mattress pad. My wife would cry as she would strip our sons bed and loaded his sheets into the washing machine. I told her to just hang-on. We would have Justin under-control in just a few weeks. And then it happened: Slowly, Justins friends drifted off to college, and our son was alone with his work at the parish house with Brother Jim. As our time to strike drew near, Dr. Dunn called me. Im sending a bottle Antabuse, explained the old physician. On Monday night at dinner, your wife will grind up one table into his applesauce. Then, on Tuesday morning, you will spike your sons orange juice with one teaspoon spoon of citron vodka and one tablespoon of Curacao. And then stand back, said the physician with a nasty laugh. He explained to me that Antabuse is given to help the management of chronic alcoholics who want to stay sober. Even a small amount of alcohol after taking Antabuse would result in a very unpleasant reaction for our son. What should we be ready for, Dr. Dunn, I asked? What the physician told me didnt sound pleasant. Justin would experience flushing, throbbing headaches, nausea, sweating and vomiting. After a few days of this, Justin would want to see a doctor. Since I knew that Justin didnt drinkI was fairly certain that our son had never tasted alcohol in his lifehe wouldnt recognize the flavor of hard liquor in his orange juice or ice tea. Our plan worked perfectly. Monday night my wife and I watched with an amused glint in our eyes as Justin cleaned his plate at dinner; there was 20 mg of Antabuse in his applesauce. The next morning Justin came down to breakfast. As he was sipping his orange juice and scanning the sports pages, an odd expression slowly sweep across his face, and his eyes lost focus on what he was reading. Suddenly leaped to his feet. His face turned beet red, he broke into a sweat, and his eyes began to water. Im going to be sick, he cried. Our son flew out of the kitchen and down the hall to the bathroom. We could hear him retching into the toilet. That evening we spiked his ice tea with Dr. Dunns special cocktail, and Justin promptly lost his dinner. We gave him alcohol at every meal. After two days of throbbing headaches, sweating, and vomiting, our son was ready to see a doctor. He asked us to make an appointment with our family physician. Good, chuckled Dr. Dunn when I called him Thursday morning. Tell you son that when your family doctor heard his symptoms, he referred Justin to me. Tell him that Im a specialist in these things. But now I want you to stop spiking his beverages with alcohol, continued the surgeon. I need his blood pressure and respiratory functions normal by Saturday if Im to castrate him. Justin felt well enough to go to the parish house that afternoon. When he retuned home, his mother and I told him that we had made an appointment to see Dr. Dunn on the advice of our physician. We would leave Saturday morning. Our son seems a little confused to why we would have to drive three hours to see a specialist. Isnt there a doctor here I can see? asked Justin. But after we discussed it with him, he agreed to follow doctors orders. We convinced him that if our family physician, who Justin trusted, referred us to a doctor in another city, then this specialist must be good. We told Justin that our family doctor was alarmed by his symptoms and it would be better to be safe than sorry. Justin left the room to lay downhe was complaining of a terrible headache. My wife and I smiled at each other as our plan gathered speed. End of Part IV
|