The Diagnosis | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: The Diagnosis | Previous Challenge Entry
By Tim George
08/01/07
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The black letters stood out starkly on the crisp white paper lying on the doctor’s desk. Oh sure the paper was covered with hundreds of other letters and symbols but none of those were next to the diagnosis line of the form Marilyn’s physician had just completed. None of them really mattered. Only those simple letters he had just signed his name under.

The physician, noticing his patient’s anxious curiosity, quietly folded the single piece of paper, placed it in his lap, and pushed his chair away from his desk.

“Marilyn …” His one word beginning was punctuated by a sudden silence that made the woman’s heart cringe with pain. Like one of those dog whistles that can only be heard by animals with sensitive enough hearing apparatus to pick up the high pitched vibrations aimed at it.

The doctor coughed and started to speak again but was interrupted by Marilyn’s raised hand.

“Hang on Robert. You were my friend long before you became my physician. Whatever it is you have to tell me let’s leave all the regrets and apologies where they belong. Just tell me like it is. No whitewash. Just the way it is.”

The corners of Robert’s lips managed a half-smile as he relaxed just a bit. He unconsciously tapped the piece of folded paper against his thigh as he leaned forward. It was obvious he was struggling for just the right words; knowing there were none.

“Robert.” Marilyn tried to smile but could not. “Just the way it is.”

Rising from his seat, Robert turned toward his book shelf lined with every kind of physician manual imaginable. He traced his fingers along the spine of several of the books looking as though he hoped to absorb some sudden inspiration from them. As he turned back to his patient and friend it was also obvious the books were mute, offering no such magical answer.

“OK Marilyn. As you know the last fifty years have seen the most amazing medical breakthroughs in the history of man. Between our pills and genetic enhancements we’ve managed to eliminate just about every illness mankind ever had to suffer through. Add to that prenatal psych-altering procedures and continuing mandated evaluations and every problem that plagued our grandparents has been practically wiped out.”

Robert paused and stared out the window. What a perfectly beautiful day he thought. How could anyone in this modern time have the problem his friend now faced?

Marilyn fidgeted in her chair. “Robert. There is a great big “But” in what you just said. I am asking you one more time. Just tell me like it is. “

“With all our advances,” Robert continued while still staring out the window, “there is one thing we have found no real cure for. We can treat its symptoms. We can even give you something to mask its long term effects. But we can never make it go away. I’ve consulted with the best specialist in the world and they all concur with what I already knew.”

Marilyn’s eyes watered as she listened and as they did Robert grew more uncomfortable. He had seen this symptom but only years before in medical school. Never in real life. Never from someone he knew and cared about. The fluid pooled in her hazel eyes and dripped down her sunken face. It was almost more than even a hardened physician like Robert Engers could stand. It was … repulsive.

Wiping the fluid with a piece of cloth she always carried with her, Marilyn blushed. “I’m sorry Robert. I’m so embarrassed for you to see me this way. It’s a wonder you don’t just have me locked away.”

Realizing his unprofessional demeanor, Robert hurried over and patted his friend on the shoulder. “No! Forgive me. It’s just. Well … of all the people I had to give this diagnosis to it had to be you. Perhaps it would best if you read it for yourself.
Marilyn took the single piece of white paper, unfolded it and sat back down to read:

After thorough testing and consultation it is this physician’s opinion that the patient suffers from a disease modern science has no answer for. The condition is untreatable and undoubtedly terminal. A, long since, banned religious text identified the condition as curable only through spiritual means. Means our society has no recollection of. This physician’s diagnosis is that the patient is SAD.”

And the fluid once again streamed from Marilyn’s hazel eyes.

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