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'I’m staying tonight,’ I tell him. ‘I want to observe the patient throughout the night.’
He chuckles, and as always I’m struck by how healthy he sounds. ‘You ask a dying man why he has trouble sleeping?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No need to apologise. We all say foolish things sometimes.’
‘Even you?’
He chuckles again. ‘Especially me.’
I jump a little and feel my heart rate increase as adrenaline is released into my bloodstream.
Although it shouldn’t, the idea disturbs me. The Messiah Scrys many, many people, so he knows what to expect in a person’s mind. He would anticipate, permit and ignore those dark, twisted, involuntary thoughts that flicker and fade through my psyche. And as a doctor to whom patients reveal embarrassing secrets and strip down for on an almost daily basis, I should appreciate that nothing he sees in my mind will be unacceptable.
a transparent mask is placed over his mouth to assist his laboured breathing. His skinny chest rises and falls erratically under the blue hospital gown.
There are no injuries, no other signs of disease, no poison; there is no discernable reason as to why his body should be failing. Were it not for the fact that his organs are weakening, he would be a normal, healthy man of twenty-eight.
I’m dead to the sight now. Desensitised.
I adapted in a matter of days [s]though[/s].
I found that thinking of him as a normal patient, rather than as the Messiah, helped.
‘I’m staying tonight,’ I tell him. ‘I want to observe the patient throughout the night.’
There is always two specific doctors on-site,
He shifts in his bed and states, ‘You’re intending to stay here all night, Doctor.’ Despite the disease, his voice is as beautifully clear as ever; there is not even a hint of scratchiness to it, which would be expected given his condition.
And as a doctor to whom patients reveal embarrassing secrets and strip down for on an almost daily basis, I should appreciate that nothing he sees in my mind will be unacceptable.
His mysterious ailment has turned his usually tanned skin pale and dry, and he looks much skinnier than usual, little more than a flesh draped skeleton.
A mist the colour of a poorly tuned tv had consumed my sight and only carefully controlled breathing had brought me back into the room.
I take it and flip through a few of the pages, all of them dirtied and smudged by constant use
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