Karen's first official soccer game was late this afternoon and she couldn't wait to end our tete a tete for what, in her mind, was a much more important engagement. She'd taken to the sport with a vengeance and was a far better natural athlete than I.

The initial signing up early in the summer had taken some work. Karen's concern with modesty was obsessive and playing sports called for a physical examination. I knew she wanted to join the team but she remained reluctant to commit. I was puzzled as her new friends played and she was anxious to follow in their footsteps. I then learned she feared the physical exam. At first I kidded her about it until I could tell how seriously she felt. I should have guessed. Her sense of modesty was absolute. One day I stepped into the bathroom she'd mistakenly not locked just to get a towel. I'd given a quick rap but she was in the shower and didn't hear so I barged in. She literally screamed at me!

I explained she'd need a doctor's examination for school so she might as well get it over with and play soccer as well. If there had been any alternative, she would have taken it but she so anticipated the coming school term she knew there was no escape. When time came for the examination, Karen was beside herself, worried to the point of nausea.

"Haven't you ever had a physical for something?" I asked.

"What? I never did anything before."

"Haven't you ever been examined by a doctor?"

"My mother's doctor, Dr. Graham gave me shots but I made him give it to me in my arm. I told him I wouldn't let him do it in the other place so he didn't make me undress."

"Oh yeah, Dr. Lying Bastard Graham, M.D. I remember him. He faked your mother's suicide."

"Sarah!"

"Okay, twenty pushups and no desert for me for saying a bad word. But he was a b-a-s-t. 'Down with liars and fornicators!' We take no prisoners or excuses!" I'd made her smile. I gave her a hug.

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"We'll find you an honest doctor."

"How about a blind one?" she asked.

"Don't tell your father we're looking. He'll get Thatcher to buy you a clinic or fly in some specialist from Paris."

As it worked out, we located a young doctor with a great manner with adolescents. I spoke with him first, explaining Karen's overwhelming sense of modesty. She wouldn't even eat her breakfast for fear of losing it on the morning of her appointment. I held her hand and offered to stay in the room. Karen declined. I waited close by, now nearly as nervous as she. Twenty minutes later she emerged, a shy smile on her face.