Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Syndrome ❯ It starts... ( Chapter 1 )

[A/N: Hello, hello. I'll keep this short. Akira Toriyama is my dad. That being said… This is not my first DBZ fic (not by far!) but it is my first epic. Or, it will be. First chapter is kinda short, but they will be getting longer, I promise.

Oh, and one more thing. You all know how I feel about clichés. So this will be as NON-cliché as possible without straying into AU. *gags* I'll stop now before I go on a rant…]

Syndrome

<WESTERN CAPITAL GENERAL HOSPITAL>

<accessing main database>

<accessing patient files>

<accessing vegeta.wgh...>

<VEGETA.WGH>

<Doctor Richard Taber, Ph.D.

8721402

Patient complains of severe pain in left knee following prolonged usage/activity.

Traditional healing methods failed to alleviate symptoms.

Following physical examination, tentative diagnosis of severe patellofemoral syndrome and possibly tendonitis.

Underwent six weeks of physical therapy with no improvement in severity of condition.

Recommend CT scan in eight five-degree increments.

Possible treatment includes lateral release surgery to correct patella malalignment, depending on CT results.

8721414

CT scan results as follows: 56 42 87 16 98 5 23 71

Definite patellofemoral syndrome.

Prime candidate for lateral release surgery.

Reccomend surgery for treatment, followed by 2 weeks of non use and 6 weeks of physical therapy.

Pending patient's decision.>

<closing vegeta.wgh>

<closing patient files>

<disconnecting from main database>

Bulma turned off the monitor, leaned back in her computer chair and stretched. Turning to her tacit companion, she asked, "You saw the hospital file, and we've already tried a senzu bean, so do you have any more qualms, Vegeta?"

He sat next to her, brows furrowed in concentration as he took in the hospital's report on the chronic knee pain he'd silently suffered for over a decade with no previous means for respite. She took his stony silence as permission to continue with, "I promise, you'll be in the hospital for barely half the day, the procedure takes all of twenty minutes, during which time you'll be asleep, and I'll be there with you, so you'll be fine."

"I never said I was afraid."

"I never said you were. So there. Now do you want me to make you an appointment with Dr. Taber?"

"Fine." He stood to depart, and by depart I mean limp, to the doorway.