(no subject)
Dr. Clark was summoned to Steven's bedside when he awoke. Steven was groggy--of course. This had more to do with the sedation than the actual procedure. Patients had to be put completely under--the amount of pain that the patient would undergo, if conscious, would be easily lethal.
Dr. Clark smiled and Steven managed to return a weak copy of it. "Welcome back," the doctor told him.
Steven took a moment to let the words sink through the fog in his mind before responding, a horse whisper: "Did it...did you...?"
The question was obvious, even if only half asked. Some version of it was usually on the lips of every patient who had ever laid here in the recovery room, working to rediscover the proper control over their eyelids.
Dr. Clark nodded and smiled again, "Did we? Yes, we did. And did it? Yes, it did. The procedure was a complete success."
Steven looked on the verge of crying, mustering as much relief as his exhausted body could deliver. Sometimes they did cry. That still got to Dr. Clark, no matter how many times he saw it. "So I don't...I'm not...?"
"Your heroin addiction is gone, Steven," Dr. Clark responded. "We went in and removed the drug completely from the receptors in your brain. No cold turkey, no withdrawal. All you need is a couple of days to recover and you'll be fine."
Steven knew all of this before the procedure, of course. It always helped the patient to be reminded of what had happened, Dr. Clark had found. When one has had one's brain played with, especially on the level that the procedure worked, memories could be a little fuzzy for a while afterwards.
Steven closed his eyes and strained a bit. Dr. Clark knew what was coming but let the young man ask. "But what if..." But the question stopped again and he couldn't proceed any further.
"Even if you desired to go back on heroin, you'd be wasting your time," the doctor explained again. Then he walked forward and tapped Steven's left upper arm. "The implant we've given you will keep the drug from working for the next two years. You can...always come back and have it refreshed if you're still uncertain when the time comes."
Dr. Clark leaned forward and ruffled the young man's hair. Young man, indeed. Steven was twenty-two. Far too young to have his body as devastated by addiction as it was. Months from now, he'd be healthy again. Able to hold down a job. Have a life. A family. "But somehow I doubt you'll need it. Here," he said. The doctor produced from the side of his lab coat a sealed vial. Inside was a dark-bluish thick liquid. Someone appeared to have melted down a bruise.
"Is that?" Steven asked.
"Yes," the doctor said, still smiling. "This is your addiction, Steven. This is what it looks like following the procedure, following its extraction from your brain. Say goodbye to it, Steven. You don't need it any longer."
Steven managed a hoarse laugh. A laugh of relief, of freedom. It was marvelous to hear. "Bye," he called out to his tormentor, safe within the vial. Steven blinked a couple of times, slowly, and said in a slur, "Tired again..."
Dr. Clark nodded. "You've been through a lot. It just gets better from here. You get some sleep. I'll check on you in the morning."
Steven nodded, already half gone. Dr. Clark made his way out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him.
Judy, his nurse, was waiting for him. She handed him the clipboard and he took the stylus from behind his ear and called up the next set of charts. "Which room?" he asked.
"Room 12," Judy said simply. "He's prepped and ready for you."
Dr. Clark nodded to her and she went. Down the hall and a right-hand turn, and there was Room 12. The door recognized his thumb and allowed him to enter.
Strapped prone onto the table in the center of the room was his next patient. "Mr. Curtis Graham," Dr. Clark said, making the owner of the name give a small squeak and jump in the restraints.
Curtis' head shifted to watch Dr. Clark as the man in the lab coat paced. Shifted only a few degrees to the left, since the harness for his head restricted his movement. The patient's breathing was labored, working to breathe through his nose, his mouth pinned and held open by the leather bit. He had given up trying to work with his ankles and wrists. Either that, or the sedation was taking hold. Probably both.
"I understand you defaulted on a loan," the doctor said, consulting his clipboard. "Yes, I see the amount here. That's impressive. I assume considering who your patron is, it was a gambling debt." He sighed. "You must be utterly without hope of paying it back if you were brought here to me. Sadly, it's men like you that must be made an example of. And that's my job."
The doctor stopped, looking down at Curtis from the foot of the table. "I suppose you were told what would happen if you didn't pay up."
Curtis looked at him with wide eyes and finally nodded.
"Then," the doctor said, retrieving the vial from his pocket and holding it up, "I suppose you can imagine what this is."
Curtis looked at the vial and then began to twist in the restraints, grunting against the bit. "Settle down, Mr. Graham. Settle down this instant," the doctor said, though he made no effort to do anything but flip through more pages on the screen of his clipboard with the stylus. "It's either you or your daughter, Mr. Graham. I could have her brought in here in your place." The man's struggles ceased immediately. "She's nine, isn't she?"
Curtis' eyes began to well up with tears. Dr. Clark looked up from his clipboard and smiled thinly, "I suppose this means you've decided? Good. I'll see you after the procedure."
Dr. Clark left the room and joined Judy in the hallway again. "How much should we leave him with after the procedure?"
Dr. Clark consulted the clipboard again. "For this debt? I'd say give him a week of high quality. That's all. Let him forage for the rest."
Judy nodded, "Yes, doctor."
Dr. Clark added, "And could you please call Ishuro-san once the procedure's finished and let him know the outcome."
Judy nodded again. "Yes, doctor. Of course."
Dr. Clark flipped to his calendar and looked it over, humming to himself as he walked down the hallway to his office. Two more patients this afternoon, then dinner with his wife. Tomorrow, a half-day for golf. Then the weekend.
