Final Diagnosis

CHAPTER 14

The morning medical round was both abbreviated and incomplete. Senior Physician Medalont was accompanied by Charge Nurse Leethveeschi rather than the usual group of trainees; they visited only the most seriously ill patients, and spent most of their time at Morredeth’s bed, which was still surrounded by screens and a hush field.

They were still there when Horrantor and Bowab stopped by his bed on their way from the bathroom. It was the Duthan who spoke first.

“We don’t feel like playing scremman today,” Bowab said. “Nobody seems to know what happened to Morredeth. I tried to ask a Kelgian nurse, but you know Kelgians, they either tell you the truth about everything or say nothing at all. Do you know anything?”

Hewlitt was still feeling guilty over his part in the incident, and he would have preferred not to talk about it. But these two had been Morredeth’s friends, or a least short-term, hospital acquaintances, and they had a right to know. He did not want to lie to them, but not being a Kelgian, he could edit the truth.

“There was an emergency,” he said. “The nurse called the resuscitation team and said that Morredeth’s hearts had stopped. When they arrived they put up a hush field around the bed. I don’t know what happened after that.”

“We must have slept through it,” said Horrantor. “But the Hudlar is nice and likes talking. Maybe it will tell us everything when it comes on duty tonight—” It broke off to point toward the nurses’ station. “Look who’s coming down the ward with Padre Lioren. Thornnastor! What is it doing here?”

The creature belonged to the same species as Horrantor, but its body was larger, its hide had a great many more wrinkles, and it was, of course, walking on six rather than five feet. The question answered itself when they stopped at Morredeth’s position and it disappeared with Lioren behind the screens. A Kelgian nurse guiding an antigravity stretcher with its canopy opened arrived a few minutes later and followed them inside.

“It must be pretty crowded in there by now,” said Horrantor.

There was no reply and the silence lengthened. In an attempt to erase the mind-picture of Morredeth lying on the bed with its fur completely motionless, he said, “Who is Thornnastor?”

“We’ve never met, you understand,” said Horrantor, “but it must be Thornnastor because it is the only Tralthan in Sector General who is qualified to wear diagnostician’s insignia. It is the diagnostician-in-charge of Pathology. They say it rarely leaves its lab, and usually it sees people only when they are dead or in small bits.”

“Horrantor!” said Bowab. “You have about as much tact as a drunken Kelgian.”

“Sorry,” said the Tralthan, “it was an insensitive choice of words… Look, they’re coming out.”

The Kelgian nurse emerged first and undulated toward the ward entrance, guiding the litter, which now had its canopy closed, followed by Thornnastor, Medalont, and Leethveeschi. The screens rose into their ceiling slots to show Lioren looking at the empty bed with all four of its eyes. When the Tarlan moved a few seconds later it did not follow the others.

“It’s heading this way,” said Bowab, in the growling, overloud equivalent of a Duthan whisper. “Hewlitt, I think it is looking at you.

Lioren continued looking at him with two of its eyes while it approached and stopped at his bed. The other two it directed at Bowab and Horrantor as it said, “My apologies for the interruption, friends, but would this be a convenient time for me to have a private conversation with Patient Hewlitt?”

“Of course, Padre,” said Horrantor. Bowab added, “We were just leaving.”

It waited until the others had moved away; then it said, “I trust this is a convenient time for you. Are you willing to talk to me now?”

Hewlitt did not reply at first. This was the first time that he had seen the Padre at close range, and the information given in the library tape he had studied had not prepared him for the actuality. The Tarlan physiological classification was BRLH, an erect quadrupedal life-form with its four short legs supporting a tapering, cone-shaped body. Four long, multi-jointed, medial arms for heavy lifting and handling sprouted from waist level, and another four that were suited to more delicate work encircled the base of the neck. Spaced equally around the head were four eyes whose stalks were capable of independent motion. An adult Tarlan was supposed to stand eight feet tall, but Lioren was above average in height and body mass. Close up it was an intimidating sight and, after the events of the previous night, he was not sure that it would have kind words to say to him. Instead of answering he asked another question, the one that had been troubling his mind for the past six hours.

“What happened to Morredeth?”

The Tarlan’s strange, convoluted countenance was no easier to read than a Hudlar’s as it said. “We don’t know what happened to Morredeth, but it is well now, and has no problems.”

Considering Lioren’s profession and remembering Morredeth’s newly vacant bed, those were the words of consolation that a padre would be expected to use to a bereaved relative or friend. They were the words that he had been hoping not to hear.

The busy sounds of the ward faded as Lioren reached forward with a medial hand to turn on the hush-field projector. He had no idea which facial orifice it was using to speak, but the voice was quiet and gentle as it said, “There appears to be three people who carry varying degrees of responsibility for what happened to Patient Morredeth. The Hudlar nurse, myself, and you. I would like to begin by talking about your contribution.”

Before Hewlitt could reply, it went on, “The Hudlar has already told you that all of your conversations since your monitor was fitted have been recorded and added to your case history for later study. This was done without your knowledge or consent because of the unusual nature of the case. Medalont felt that your words would be less inhibited and clinically more valuable, even though most of the recorded material would be extraneous and useless, if you were kept in ignorance of what was being done. Now you know that everything you say is being recorded, but I am less interested in words about yourself than in your emotional reaction to Patient Morredeth’s injury. Did you have strong feelings about its disfigurement, and are you willing to talk about them?”

Hewlitt began to relax. He had been expecting criticism from Lioren and had only now realized that a hospital padre would not use harsh or critical words.

“Yes,” he said. “But don’t expect too much, Padre. I didn’t have any strong feelings about Morredeth other than the sympathy one feels for the misfortune of someone who is not a close friend. When I discovered how badly the damaged fur was affecting it, I tried to help by talking about the problem I’d had during my teens and early twenties. I must have said the wrong things.”

“In a very difficult emotional situation,” said Lioren, “you tried to say the right things. Some of the things you did say were… Is the problem you discussed with Morredeth solved, or not? Your case history says that you have not taken a life-mate or formed any short-term partnerships.”

Wondering why the conversation had veered from Morredeth’s troubles to his own, he said, “The problem isn’t solved. I am not comfortable in female company even though my attraction and initial physical response to them was and is normal. I am afraid of a recurrence of the embarrassment, the embarrassment of both partners, and the pain that comes instead of the intense pleasure that should follow consummation. It is a situation which I have no wish to repeat… Why are you asking me about this? Are you criticizing my behavior in some fashion? Do you think it is a moral rather than a medical question?”

“It is a medical question,” Lioren replied without hesitation. “But if the matter troubles you to the extent that you might be helped by spiritual guidance or reassurance, please tell me. I have a wide knowledge of the tenets and beliefs of the principal religions practiced throughout the Federation and may be able to help you. I am very interested in your own religious beliefs if you hold any. If you do not, then please rest your mind. I am not going to preach or proselytize.

“One of the reasons for asking the question,” it went on, “is that I no longer practice medicine, but I have some experience in the field and sometimes enjoy trying to second-guess my former colleagues. At worst it is a venial offense, a small sin of pride. And who am I to criticize another being who prefers the celibate life?”

“Sorry, Padre,” said Hewlitt, “I’m feeling antisocial this morning. What did you want to know?”

Lioren made a low, gurgling sound that did not translate and said, “Everything you are willing to tell me. But first, you still appear to be sensitive about your, ah, extended puberty, but this matter was fully covered during your conversation with Morredeth so we will ignore it for now. Instead I would like to know if there were any other episodes, physical, psychological, or religious, which also troubled you even though they were considered unimportant or of too minor a nature for your medics to record them in your case notes. Do you remember any past incidents of that nature?”

“If they didn’t go into my case notes,” said Hewlitt, “I may have forgotten them. Whenever I thought there was anything seriously wrong with me I had the bad habit of complaining about it, loudly and often.”

Lioren was silent for a moment. When it spoke again it seemed to be uncomfortable and it was regarding him with all four of its eyes.

“You are a very strange case, Patient Hewlitt,” it said. “From our study of your recorded conversations with Medalont, Braithwaite, the Hudlar nurse, and your three cardplaying friends, and especially from the sensitivity displayed during last night’s dialogue with Morredeth, we have decided that there is little wrong with your mind. Making due allowance for mental effects left by your lifelong war with the medical profession, you have displayed a personality that is stable and well integrated. If there is a psychological component to your problem, which we are beginning to doubt, it is so deeply buried that we can find no trace of it.”

“I kept telling everybody that it wasn’t my imagination… began Hewlitt.

Lioren continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “As well, you are a remarkably healthy specimen of an Earth-human DBDG. Apart from the inexplicable cardiac arrest on the evening of your arrival, your monitor has shown optimum clinical readings since you were admitted. The present slight lowering of life-sign indications we attribute to your night spent without sleep while, I have no doubt, you were thinking about Morredeth.”

“So I have a healthy mind in a superman’s body,” he said, making no attempt to hide his anger. He was about to be discharged from the hospital, as had happened so often in the past, as some nonspecific type of malingerer. “Thank you for yet another confirmation of that fact, Padre. What do you want me to tell you?”

The Tarlan leaned over his bed and opened its mouth. For the first time he saw its very large teeth and felt its breath on his face as it spoke. He felt pleased with himself that he was able to stay in bed and not run terror-stricken up the ward. One could become used to anything in this place.

“I don’t know,” the Padre said. “Anything. Everything. Something that will enable me, as you Earth-humans say, to get my teeth into this problem.”

“Teeth?” said Hewlitt, his eyes still on the other’s open mouth. He forced a laugh and went on, “As a matter of fact I did have some trouble with my teeth. It was when I was a child, on Etla, but it was a minor problem. I was seven years old and the first two of my second set of teeth were beginning to grow and the old ones were refusing to come out. My mouth was painful, but I was more worried about not getting money from the tooth fairy in exchange for the loosened teeth when I left them on my pillow during the night. Do you know about the Earth tooth fairy? I’ll tell you about it later. When the third new tooth pushed up and the old one stayed in place, our dentist lost patience and pulled out all three of the old ones. After that my teeth behaved normally and the money was waiting on the pillow as expected. But I don’t think the tooth business is important.”

“Who knows what is important in your case,” said the Padre, “but in this instance I agree with you. Are there any other unrecorded and possibly unimportant incidents you can remember?”

The longer Hewlitt talked the more he remembered. A few of the minor incidents, he was surprised to discover, had been included in his case history. The rest was a boring catalogue of the usual childhood and teenage skin eruptions and rashes, none of them serious or long-lasting, and the accidentally cut fingers, bumps on the head, and skinned knees sustained at home or in school. His cuts and abrasions had always healed quickly, even when they had looked at first to be serious enough to require sutures.

“I didn’t like doctors when I was young,” he went on, “because they insisted on prescribing medication that made me feel worse instead of better. At first I thought Medalont was going to do the same, but instead it took me off all medication and, apart from the arrest on the first night, there has been no trouble. Shall I go on, Padre? Is this the kind of information you’re looking for?”

“I don’t know what I’m looking for, Patient Hewlitt,” said the Tarlan, “or if I’d recognize it if I found it. But if all you and your many doctors say is true, and taking into account the two inexplicable clinical episodes that have involved you since you came here, there is only one obvious explanation that remains. Naturally it is more obvious to me than to you even though I myself am most reluctant to accept it.”

The Tarlan was leaning so far over the bed that Hewlitt wondered if its bottom-heavy, inherently stable body would overbalance and fall on him. The features were unreadable but its tension could almost be felt.

“Patient Hewlitt,” it said, “are you a member of a religious sect?”

“No,” he said.

“Before they died in the flyer accident,” it went on, leaning even closer, “were your parents or subsequently your grandparents members of such a sect? It may have been very small, probably restricted in numbers because of its inability to proselytize among a largely materialistic population, but it would have been highly moral, intensely devout, and utterly certain in its beliefs. Even though you were very young at the time, did your parents or grandparents, or perhaps a teacher at school, instruct you in the beliefs and disciplines of such a faith?”

“No,” he said again.

“You have not taken enough time to search your memory, said Lioren. “Please do so now.

Its body swayed backward until it was upright again, and Hewlitt was not sure whether the movement signified a relaxation of tension or disappointment.

“I’m sorry, Padre,” he said. “When you mentioned religion to me earlier, and I refused your offer of spiritual consolation, I assumed that you would know that I was not a religious person. Why are you asking so many religious questions? I have never been a believer.”

When it replied, Hewlitt was glad that a hush field was around his bed, because the Padre’s voice would have carried to the other end of the ward. It said, “I am asking them because they must be asked, and because religious beliefs can often have a strong effect on a psychological or medical condition. Mostly I am asking them because of what you did last night.

“As a result of you speaking to Patient Morredeth,” it continued without lowering its voice, “and even though its clinical condition was giving no cause for concern at the time, the patient became emotionally distressed, culminating in severe convulsions. You assisted the duty nurse by restraining the patient while a sedative shot was administered, but by then both of its hearts had arrested. While the activity could never be described as dignified, much less solemn, the process that is called ‘the laying on of hands’ took place.

“When the resuscitation team arrived they were very irritated,” it went on, its voice quieter but not quiet, “because they had been called to the same ward twice in two days on emergencies that had turned out to be false alarms. Thornnastor is completely baffled, a condition rare indeed in the diagnostician-in-charge of Pathology, and has transferred Morredeth to its lab for closer investigation into an incident that is completely without precedent. And Patient Morredeth is happy because its missing and damaged areas of fur have regrown good as new.”

Lioren paused, and an almost plaintive note entered its voice as it said, “To a hospital with the reputation of performing medical miracles routinely, a real one is a major embarrassment. A miraculous cure is, well, disquieting even to me.

“Do you have any other explanation, Patient Hewlitt?”