It happened on a Tuesday afternoon.
I had just finished rounds when my phone rang.
It was James Calloway - a longtime patient, sixty-four years old, retired managing partner of one of the largest private equity firms in the Northeast.
James is the kind of man who plays squash four mornings a week, reads three medical journals for fun, and has never once missed his annual executive physical.
He is also the kind of man who does not call his doctor in the middle of the day unless something is wrong.
"Marcus," he said, "I need you to look at my numbers.
I just got back from Shanghai." I almost laughed.
"James, why on Earth were you in Shanghai?" "Because," he said, "two of my partners have been going for the last eight months.
And Marcus - they don't look the same anymore.
I'm not talking about a tan.
I'm talking about the way their skin sits on their face.
The way they get out of a chair.
Last weekend I watched Bill - he's sixty-eight - beat his thirty-five-year-old son in straight sets.
I have known Bill for twenty-two years.
The man couldn't climb a flight of stairs without complaining about his knee last year." That was the call.
A week later, James was sitting in my office sliding a manila envelope across my desk.
Inside was a TruDiagnostic epigenetic panel - baseline, and again ninety days later.
His biological age had dropped from 71.2 to 34.6.
Thirty-six and a half years.
In ninety days.
I have been doing this for a long time.
I have never seen numbers move like that.
I picked up the phone and started making my own calls.