It was 8 pm, right after dinner...

X

Luckily, Brett didn't have to try too hard to fulfill his promise. The next four days went by without any major incidences and he could finally go see that Gastroenterologist.

The Gastroenterologist was a middle aged woman named Han and very kind. She asked him about his symptoms and medical history, listened for odd bowel sounds and felt around his belly for a while. He told her, that he didn't really experience any digestive problems, but she told him, it could be something in it's early stages, so he wouldn't notice. At the end, he had to give a blood sample and was told to send in a stool sample as well as soon as possible.

After the examination, Brett went to the waiting room to pick up Eddy, who had insistet on accompanying him despite Brett's numerous attempts to convince him otherwise. He was sitting in the corner, reading some magazine which they always laid out in waiting rooms and looked up, when he heard Brett's footsteps.
"And?", he asked, as soon as Brett entered his vision.
"And what?"
"What did she say?"
"She didn't say anything. Just did some tests and told me to send in my poop for further examination."
"That sounds gross."
"You asked for it. So can we please leave and discuss my private medical condition somewhere more... private?"
Eddy chuckled, got up and followed Brett outside the doctors office. 

"Come", Eddy said, as soon as they were out in the alley, "I'll buy you a bubble tea, because you were so brave."
"Thanks dad", Brett replied and got slapped on his upper arm for that. They went for Heytea this time and had to queue quite a while until they could place their orders.
"You reckon they'll find something?", Eddy asked, after they found a bench to sit on near the bubble tea place.
"Don't know", Brett answered, "She found nothing specific today. Just told me to cut down on sugar. Apparently, sugar can be very bad in many ways for the human body." Having said that, he took a huge sip from his bubble tea and Eddy could see the pearls passing through the straw in lightning speed.
"Cheers to that, I guess." Eddy raised his cup and mimicked Brett's actions. They chewed on their bobas for some time, perfectly content for now.

Brett sent in his other sample the very next day, and now, all that was left to do, was to wait for any results to come in. Of course they continued to work and filmed a bunch of videos, including the one with Uncle Roger, which turned out hilarious of course.

They also found a new editor, so they really did have more time to practice. Eddy's Sibelius was coming along nicely, Brett thought, every time the other was practicing for the three mil livestream. Brett himself was working on Milstein's Paganiniana, which was sometimes fulfilling, but most times excruciating, depending on how the practice session went. He knew he had to start on arranging the orchestral part for the Sibelius soon, but he was so not in the mood and would rather ask Jordon to do it for him, if that guy wouldn't be too busy with some online music event back in Australia.

Brett also cut back on his sugar intake for real, but it wasn't easy for him to stay disciplined. He loved to eat sweets. Not too sweet, but everything that wasn't plain white or brown chocolate, turkish honey or bubble tea on 100% sugar level, was difficult to stay away from. Eddy drinking bubble tea every two days wasn't helping his noble quest of keeping his body healthy at all.

He also tried to go to bed at a reasonable time and Eddy made very sure that he wouldn't make an exception. Scheduling their free time proved to be more challenging though, for they both loved what they did as Twoset way too much and if they weren't doing any projects for their channel, they'd rather practice than chill.

The frustrating thing was, that Brett couldn't tell if all of this was benefitial for him or not. His symptoms started to get less severe, but also appeared more regular. He'd be tired for days for example. He'd experience stomach aches after every heavy meal, so he stopped eating oily, fatty food as well. He often had a headache now and felt faint just out of the blue.
But there were also days, when he would be full of energy and feel great. There just seemed to be no correlation with what he'd do or eat and how he'd feel afterwards.

"I think we should start a journal", Eddy said one morning.
"What, like the practice journal?", Brett asked.
"No, dummy! A journal of what you eat and do. Maybe we can figure out a pattern of when what under which circumstances happens."

Brett contemplated on Eddy's suggestion. "Yeah, why not", he agreed after a while, "We can try. Don't know what else is there for me to do."

So Brett started to write down all his meals, his sleeping time and even his work hours. Maybe he could bring this to his next doctors appointment, he thought. It might help, like the results might shed some light onto this matter, like his body might get better when he had the right treatment...

Brett didn't like "mights" in this context, but that's what he had to deal with and these "mights" also made room for hope in the end. And boy, was hope something he truly needed now!