Dr. Marsteller Chapter 28

 

From DR. MARSTELLER

👈 Chapter 27

28

 

The next time he went to visit, Dr. Ramaswamy was walking out of her room into the hospital corridor as Dr. Marsteller was about to walk in.  Dr. Ramaswamy’s expression of surprise was noticeable as he looked briefly into Dr. Marsteller’s eyes.  The surprise immediately turned to hatred and he lowered his eyes to give the impression of staring straight ahead as if Dr. Marsteller wasn’t there.  He then turned abruptly to go around Dr. Marsteller and walked quickly past the reception desk.  Dr. Marsteller watched Dr. Ramaswamy’s back and tense shoulders as he turned again down another corridor to walk towards the hospital entrance.  What a prick, though Dr. Marsteller.  Dr. Marsteller marked him off the list of people to be wary of though.  He won’t do anything, he thought, he’s too quiet for that and has already gotten a taste of the nice retired life.  None of them will and they know it.  And no matter what Dr. Reicher says, all he really knows is that the therapy was supposed to work but had an unforeseen glitch when used in humans.  He entered the room as he rapidly processed these thoughts. 

Mrs. Viscane’s smile opened like a crack in sidewalk cement.  Her eyes were tired but delighted to see him.

-Dr. Ramaswamy isn’t the type to bring sunshine with him like you Dr. Marsteller.

-What’d you two talk about? he asked casually.

-Nothing really, he just inquired to my condition and I told him and he unsuccessfully attempted small talk before I told him I needed some rest.  He might be the dullest man I’ve ever met.

-Well, he certainly doesn’t jump around like Robin Williams, Dr. Marsteller joked as Mrs. Viscane cackled sickly.  How is your condition?

-Liz and Lancaster, the evil misguided cretins, continue to talk to me about going to the Mayo Clinic.  Not a chance I’m jumping on a plane to Minnesota.  When do you think we can do the second surgery?  For the brain?

-Not until you start coming around, said Dr. Marsteller looking concerned for her benefit.

-Not what until she comes around?  asked a large balding man in his late 30s who swept into the room with his unbuttoned white coat exposing gray pants and a red shirt.  His stethoscope dangled around his neck like a medal.

-Dr. Marsteller, this is my oncologist Dr. Van Kant. 

-Nice to meet you, said Dr. Marsteller holding out his hand.  Dr. Van Kant didn’t take it.  He adeptly slipped his hands in the large pocks of his coat flowing out at his sides.  The coat stopped flowing and sweeping like a cape and behaved.

-Pardon me, Dr. Marsteller, but I was curious as to how she received the scar on her chest.

-How would I know?  asked Dr. Marsteller defensively.  Dr. Van Kant sized him up for a beat.

-Oh I think you do.

-What are you talking about Dr. Van Kant? interrupted Mrs. Viscane in a strained voice from her bed.  Dr. Marsteller is a friend of mine.  As a matter of fact, he wanted to ask you about my current health.

-So he could perform more insidious Frankenstein experiments on you?

-I resent your attitude, said Dr. Marsteller calmly.  You should have some basis to your claims before you start making accusations.

-You ever talk to Dr. Reicher? 

Dr. Marsteller straightened and a frown briefly appeared on his face, pulling the wrinkles and crow’s feet around his cheeks and eyes down like the wrinkled sheets on Mrs. Viscane’s hospital bed.

-I think what you need to do, squawked Mrs. Viscane, is to tell that bastard Dr. Reicher the next time you talk to him that my attorney will be paying him a visit if he doesn’t stop spreading lies.  Tell him that everything will have to be given back.  Come here.  She beckoned Dr. Van Kant over to her bedside, then she ripped his stethoscope off and threw it on the floor and in the same motion overpowered him by grabbing his white coat and pulling him close.  Her strength surprised him.  Tell him that if he doesn’t change his story, my attorney would like to shove his boat sideways up the canal.

She released him by his coat and he staggered up to his feet and attempted to regain his dignity by smoothing out his shirt and coat.  He bent over and picked up his stethoscope.

-You guys are both insane.

-You watch yourself too Dr. Van Kant, I know how much it would cost to keep you unemployed.

Dr. Van Kant looked sharply at Dr. Marsteller who looked away out the window.  Then Dr. Van Kant looked at Mrs. Viscane and nodded his head with respect before turning around out the door.

Mrs. Viscane rang for the nurse and she immediately appeared, looking forlorn after hours of tending to Mrs. Viscane’s every need.  Three nurses rotated and she harassed them all indiscriminately.  The girl’s disheveled blonde ponytail was held loosely together with a purple squeegee that matched the color of the bags under her eyes. 

-Please get the next best oncologist on the phone besides Dr. Van Kant and make sure he comes to my room promptly.

       The girl turned around and escaped to go find the oncologist.

       -You see what I’m dealing with here, Dr. Marsteller, the hospital is a sham.  They’d do a lot better if they read a little more research happening around the country and maybe they’d adopt procedures that helped people.  She flipped her arm around to indicate that she was ‘through with it.’

       Liz and Lancaster arrived at the door.  They had obviously decided to come together for mutual support in dealing with their mother.  They both nodded to Dr. Marsteller who nodded back.  Mrs. Viscane turned to see who was there.

       -For God’s sake, it’s Mr. and Mrs. Death. 

       -Hi mom, they said together through strained smiles ignoring her comment and coming closer her to try and give her a kiss on the cheek.  Mrs. Viscane threw a fit.

       -Get off of me.  Christ.  Go kiss each other’s asses if you want to kiss something.

       -How have you been mom?

       -Terrible.

       -We brought something to cheer you up, said her son and pulled out a box of chocolates for her and set it on the raised table hanging over her bed. 

       -Thank you, she said tritely and opened the box then held them out to offer them to Dr. Marsteller.  He shook his head no.  Liz grabbed herself a chocolate as Mrs. Viscane made a comment about her weight.  She ate it sourly.  The silence in the room dripped from the ceiling to the floor.  Finally, her son was brave enough to speak.

       -So, mom, have you given any more thought to Mayo?

       Dr. Marsteller flinched at his ignorance but decided maybe he’d help him before she ate him alive.

       -Maybe you should reconsider going to Mayo, said Dr. Marsteller.

       -It’s out of the question.  You’re here, not in Minnesota. 

       -Oh thanks mom, said Liz. 

       -I meant him, she said indicating Dr. Marsteller.  Her daughter looked back down at her feet and continued nipping little bites out of her chocolate.

       A tall thin dark haired man in his mid 40s strolled into the room.  His white coat was buttoned up and he held a worried expression in his eyes.  His face was taut like cut from stone.  Dr. Marsteller knew this was the oncologist.

       -What do you want?  barked Mrs. Viscane

       -Hi, I’m Dr. Ceballos, the nurse paged me to come over here.  What seems to be the problem?  He looked around with worried eyes and calculated if anything was out of the ordinary.  Everything seemed fine.

       -Oh yes, you are now my new doctor.  I am Mrs. Viscane.  Dr. Van Kant was treating me but he has shown himself to be completely inept.

       Dr. Ceballos befuddled gaze indicated this was not proper procedure.  And everything about him indicated that he was a strict adherent to proper procedure.

       -I’m sorry, I’ll need to talk this over with Dr. Van Kant; I’m not allowed to take over patients in mid-treatment except in unforeseen circumstances.

       -Well, unforeseen circumstances just happened.  I fired him.  I’ll make it worth your while.  You know who I am?

       -Yes, but…

       -Like I said, I’ll make it worth your while.  Find out how Dr. Van Kant was treating me.  If he gives you misinformation tell him he’ll have a few problems on his hands.  Tell him if I die, my power of attorney will make it his sole job to make it difficult for Dr. Van Kant to get a job in this country.  Get the hell out of here.

       Dr. Ceballos opened his mouth to talk but then clasped it shut and turned on his heel and strolled back out the way he came. 

       -Mom, you must be nicer to these people.  You turn into a monster in the hospital, said Lancaster with as much force as he could muster.  He sounded like a weasel squealing for food.  It was a mistake.

       -Lancaster, Mrs. Viscane turned on him, shut your mouth for one second.  Every time you open your mouth more and more slop spills out.  Can’t you see I’m already a monster?  What does it matter how I act when I look like I do?  I will be a monster to anyone who sees me and I’ll be a monster for the rest of my life, which may not be very long.  For the love of all that is good and holy, have a little compassion when you look at your mother and see her like this.  Now both of you have made me very tired.  Can you please leave? 

       Dr. Marsteller stood up to leave as well.

       -You, sit down, she said.

       Her children stood up and went to give her kisses while saying ‘love you mother’ but she waved them off and they shuffled out of the room, disoriented as most people when their intentions are ill received in a vehement manner usually reserved for people on the other side of the law.

       -Dr. Marsteller, I want you to promise me one thing; can we do the brain therapy before the beginning of the year?

       -Sounds good Mrs. Viscane.  He pandered.

       Suddenly she looked very weak – her head pressed against the pillow and her bland expression was like flat soda.

       -How are the other experiments coming along?

       -Excellent.  Some students and I are headed to the World Anti-Aging Congress in San Diego in a couple weeks.  I’ve been asked to be the featured speaker.

       -That is quite an honor.  I’ve attended that meeting a few times.  It’s always fun talking to the top minds in the field.  That’s excellent.  I want to walk across that stage in 40 years as living testimony to your work.  You will be walking with me.

       -Of course I will.  You were brave enough to be the first experiment.  After it’s proven on you I’ll take it and walk with you.

       -You’ll be the Einstein of biology, Dr. Marsteller. 

       -Yes.

       -An Einstein that lives forever.

       -It will be something, won’t it?

       That sat together silently for a couple minutes.

       -San Diego this time of year would be wonderful.  When you return it will be Thanksgiving?

       -Yes. 

       -Thanksgiving was my favorite holiday when I was younger.  We used to cook a huge bird.  Normally we didn’t eat very expansive meals, but on Thanksgiving we went out of our way.  Since I was young my mother always trusted me to make the stuffing.  And I had this little porcelain doll popular in the 40s.  She was a military nurse.  I remember the doll was called ‘Colonel Sue’.   I loved that doll.  And I would set it on the windowsill and pretend she was helping me make the stuffing.  I imagined she was on leave for the holidays and she would tell me about the men she helped in the war.  Even after I married George, we would always visit their small house and I would make the stuffing and put that doll on the windowsill.  It was one of the stipulations I had in our marriage.  That he always be present for Thanksgiving and that we would go to my mother’s humble house.  My Dad died in the war and I suppose it was why I loved the doll.  Maybe I thought Colonel Sue could take care of him.  But it was also why I loved Thanksgiving.  Because we were always together for Thanksgiving more than any other holiday and it took the sting away from missing Dad.  And there were always enough uncles and my brothers to cook for.  George was always horrible in social settings and there was nothing he hated worse than those Thanksgiving reunions.  He would always be forced to talk to one of my old great aunts complaining about her medication on the tattered green couch.  He was such a powerful man but he couldn’t even keep a conversation with an old lady.  He was perfectly inept.  I derived a secret pleasure from it.  To see his failings was always interesting to me.  Because he was too good at everything else.  And then when my mother died, and we were cleaning the house, I remembered the doll and asked if anyone had found it and George told me he threw it out.  I wouldn’t have sex with him for months after that.

        Dr. Marsteller listened like a therapist to her reminiscence.  But he could care less about her musings or her humble beginnings and her evil thoughts towards her husband.  She was just a lonely old woman afraid of dying just like every lonely old woman on the planet Earth.  It instantly mattered again what he had done.  He had unwittingly, he told himself, brought this disease upon this human being.  And he became disgusted with himself.  But he didn’t really know what would happen, he thought.  She could survive.  And then he had to leave the hospital.  He stood up and said he remembered an appointment and left.  

 

Chapter 29 Coming Tomorrow

This originally appeared in Dr. Marsteller