The Art of Forgetting

by Peter Palmieri

“Lloyd, how great to hear from you!”

  Lloyd was surprised by the gregarious tone. In the last three years the two men had spoken only a handful of times on the phone and met in person only once.

  “Listen,” Lloyd said, “I wanted to ask you about a specimen I sent you.”

  “Sure. You got the name and medical record number?”

  Lloyd hesitated. He only sent Kowalski animal specimens. Maybe he was asking for the requisition number on the receipt that was handed to Kaz. Or maybe Kowalski was confusing him with someone else.

  “I’m just joshing you, Lloyd,” Kowalski said in a roll of laughter. “The little patient is a mouse, no?”

  “Yeah. The reason I’m calling, I was wondering if you happened to mention to anyone that you received a specimen from my lab.”

  “I don’t understand. Are you asking me if I’ve ever mentioned to anyone that you send me specimens?”

  “I mean in the last week or so,” Lloyd said.

  “No. Why do you ask?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I couldn’t have. I haven’t received any specimen from you in at least a month.”

  “Wait. You’re sure about that?”

  “Positive.”

  “Hmm. That’s strange.”

  “When was it sent?” asked Kowalski.

  “Last week.”

  “Well, let me be frank, Lloyd, we’re just buried in work here, and surgical specimens take precedence over the autopsy of a little mouse.”

  “Do me a favor,” Lloyd said.

  “What do you need?”

  “When you do the autopsy, don’t talk to anyone about it.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “Okay, sure,” Kowalski said in an overdone conspiratorial tone.

  “It’s nothing really, but I’d appreciate it if you call me with the results before releasing your official report.”

  “I got your back. Don’t worry.”

  Lloyd gave Kowalski his cell phone number and hung up, hoping he wouldn’t regret the entire call. Just because Kowalski was a geek didn’t mean he was a fool and it certainly didn’t mean he could be trusted. He sat back in his chair and retrieved the lighter from his pocket. Who told the IRB about the dead mouse? And why? Lloyd was getting the feeling that someone was far too interested in his research.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, Lloyd arrived at the hospital early and finished ward rounds by noon. He grabbed a sandwich from the deli cart then returned to his office to cosign the resident progress notes from the morning on his computer. Kaz brewed a pot of savory herbal tea sweetened with just a hint of honey making Lloyd wonder what kind of other herbs he might be growing in his organic community garden.

  Once he was done with his paperwork, he opened a new document and stared at the white screen on his monitor. Sometimes, less is more. That’s what he kept telling himself until he finally inserted the day’s date at the top of the document and began typing a one page addendum for the Institutional Review Board.

  It invoked a vague clerical oversight in the failure to report the death of an animal subject, brought about by the desire to review the official autopsy report before deciding if the event was pertinent to his application, but forgotten due to a simple mental lapse. He would volunteer no extraneous information which could be twisted and turned against him.

  He printed the document, slid it in the kind of crisp Manila envelope that always gave him paper cuts and headed for Dr. Lasko’s office. He intended to drop it off with his secretary but once he introduced himself she asked him to take a seat and wait. A minute later, Lasko stepped out of his office and invited Lloyd inside with a wave of his arm.

  “I brought the addendum,” Lloyd said as he sat on a low, stiff demi Lune chair with no armrests.

  “That’s fine, that’s fine,” Lasko said as stepped behind the heavy mahogany desk and sat in a plush, caramel-colored leather chair that would have been suitable for the oval office. The arrangement of office furnishings seemed to have been designed with the sole purpose to maximize the discomfort of visitors and magnify the authority of its holder. Lasko flipped a page on a black appointment book on his desk. “The Institutional Review Board is scheduled to meet again tomorrow afternoon. Can you make it?”

  “Sure,” Lloyd said, wondering if they’d planned to meet without him.

  “Very well, then. Four o’clock tomorrow, so we can put the matter to rest,” Lasko said with no emotion.

  Lloyd left the office feeling utterly puzzled. He found it impossible to read the man. And what about the addendum? Lasko hadn’t bothered to read it, acted as if it didn’t matter at all. Lloyd was still replaying the conversation in his mind the next day when he stepped into the dean’s library to meet the IRB for the second time.

  Lloyd immediately sensed that something was wrong. There was a strain in Erin’s countenance. Again, she didn’t look up at him as Lloyd took his seat across the table from Lasko. There was a stiffness in her shoulders as she sat and traced a yellow highlighter in horizontal swaths across the lines of a document in a seemingly perfunctory way. Aside from Uncle Marty, Dr. Sengupta, of all people, was the only one to manage to make eye contact with Lloyd.

  “We’ve reviewed the addendum you’ve kindly submitted,” Lasko said picking up a sheet of paper and waving it in the air before setting it aside and burying it under a file.

  Lloyd cleared his throat. “As you can see, it was all just a simple misunderstanding.” He was about to say more but he saw Erin look up at him and shake her head ever so slightly before looking back down at the papers in front of her.

  “You may see it that way,” Lasko said, “but in light of the new information we’ve received, I’m afraid the committee is unable to concur with that sentiment.”

  “What new information?” Lloyd asked.

  Lasko turned to face Erin, stuck his chin out at her and widened his eyes.

  Erin picked up the paper in front of her and said in a wispy voice, “We’ve received the autopsy report on the mouse that died after your treatment.”

  Fuck Kowalski! I told him to call me first, Lloyd thought.

  “How is that possible if I haven’t even received it?” Lloyd asked.

  “The department of Pathology has been quite accommodating with the board’s investigation,” Lasko said.

  “Wait a second,” Lloyd said. “When did this turn into an investigation?”

  Lasko held up his palm and closed his eyes. “Forgive me. That was a poor choice of words. Dr. Kennedy, can you read the report, please?”

  Erin looked at the paper in her hands for a moment. She handed it to Bender and asked him, “Would you mind?”

  “Not at all,” Bender said with his trademark comforting smile. He slipped a pair of reading glasses on and said, “It’s a rather concise report.” He read aloud, “Brain sections show global spongiform changes with neuronal loss and the formation of amyloid plaques. Other organs reveal no significant pathologic abnormalities. Final diagnosis: spongiform encephalitis consistent with prion disease.”

  Bender handed the report back to Erin and removed his reading glasses. There was a tomb-like silence that sent a chill through Lloyd: the silence of finality.

  “That can’t be right,” Lloyd said.

  “You can read it for yourself,” Lasko said. “I’ll make sure my secretary e-mails you a copy.”

  “Look,” Lloyd said. “You’re making a terrible mistake.”

  “This is precisely what we were worried about,” Mrs. Devine said. “Thank God you didn’t inject any humans with this poison.”

  Lloyd got to his feet and paced in a circle, rubbing the nape of his neck with one hand, the other hand resting on his hip. This couldn’t be happening. It was impossible. He had checked the lot number of the prion that Wolfgang received. It was the same one he had injected in half a dozen other mice that had shown no ill effects. Nothing made sense anymore. Lloyd’s head was swimming with disconnec
ted facts, empty data points that refused to come together in a meaningful way.

  “There must be a confounding variable,” he finally said.

  “A confounding variable that causes spongiform encephalopathy?” Lasko said with a smirk. “And what might that be?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Lloyd said. “I have a letter from the FDA giving me the green light to proceed with phase one trials on human subjects.”

  “But you don’t have the university’s approval so there shall be no human trials,” Lasko said, raising his voice.

  Lloyd shrugged his shoulders. “There are dozens of medical centers all around the country that would approve my research in a heartbeat. There’s nothing to keep me here.”

  “Are you threatening to leave?” asked Lasko.

  “He’s saying no such thing,” Bender said.

  “You’re welcome to chance your fortunes elsewhere, Dr. Copeland, but understand that the prion formulation you’ve been using is university property to which we hold the patent. So, you see, you may leave, but the prions stay.”

  Lloyd knew Lasko was right. He slumped back in his chair. His feeble bluff had been called and quickly exposed. If he could only make sense out of what had happened.

  “Look, maybe there’s a problem with that specific lot. If I run some more experiments I can isolate the problem,” Lloyd said.

  “You will do no such thing,” Lasko barked.

  “Excuse me?” Lloyd said.

  “You’re handling extremely dangerous biological materials on a hospital campus,” Lasko said. “The risk is too great.”

  “What risk?” Lloyd said.

  “Now listen carefully, you shall carry out no more experiments until the matter can be audited by an expert independent panel.”

  “The Institutional Review Board has not authority–”

  “This is no longer an issue for the IRB, in fact, once this meeting is adjourned, this committee will be dissolved,” Lasko said. “The matter is now under the purview of the Institutional Animal Care and Use Committee. Our university will not tolerate any form of animal cruelty.”

  “Animal cruelty?” Lloyd said. “For crying out loud! They eat organic vegetables. They drink filtered water. They listen to Beethoven, Mozart and Chopin.”

  “You inject them with prions,” Mrs. Devine said.

  “And I cure them of their dementia,” Lloyd said, “just like I’ll cure hundreds of thousands of individuals who have no other hope. You can’t stop my research.”

  “Watch me. I’ll change the locks on your laboratory if I have to,” Lasko said.

  “Dr. Lasko,” Bender said, “that won’t be necessary. Dr. Copeland is a valuable faculty member and he’s made significant contributions to the department of Neurology and to the university. There’s no need to take drastic measures. I will personally vouch for him.”

  “I wish I could be as charitable in his regards as you are, Dr. Bender, but I’m entrusted with a greater responsibility. And I can’t have a loose cannon conducting unapproved experiments in our hospital.”

  “He won’t do that, will you Lloyd?”

  Lloyd shook his head. Uncle Marty to the rescue again.

  “You have my personal assurance,” Bender said. “No need for a locksmith.”

  When the meeting ended, Lloyd returned to his office in a state of disbelief. How could they shut down his research now that he was palpably close to the only thing that might spare him from the brutal destiny that had ravaged his family for generations?

  Kaz was at a computer using his two index fingers to peck at a keyboard. He looked up at Lloyd and frowned. “You have to eat them raw so you don’t cook the nutrients out of them.”

  “Huh?”

  “You didn’t even try the veggies I gave you, did you?”

  Lloyd shook his head.

  “I knew it,” Kaz said. “You American doctors know nothing of nutrition. Take a look at yourself in the mirror.”

  “Our lab’s shut down,” Lloyd said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We can’t run any experiments.”

  “You mean the human trials were not approved?”

  “We can’t run animal experiments either. We’re done,” Lloyd said.

  “Lloyd, what are you talking about?”

  “They’re going to investigate us for animal cruelty.”

  Kaz laughed. “You’re joking right?” He stopped laughing. His face turned hard. “Let them say that to my face.”

  “You might want to look for a new job.”

  “Are you firing me?”

  “This is my battle, Kaz. Things are getting ugly.”

  Kaz stood up. “I spent two winters in Afghanistan. I lost many brothers… held their bodies in my arms as they breathed their last breath. You think I’m scared of some committee people with tiny little pencils?”

  “This could hurt your work record.”

  “Screw my work record!” Kaz walked up to Lloyd, placed his heavy hands on Lloyd’s shoulders. “Maybe we win, maybe we die, but if we die, we die together.”

  Kaz kissed Lloyd on both cheeks.

  Lloyd wiped his face. “What did I tell you about kissing me?”

  “You have no emotions, you cold Irish prick.”

  But I do have emotions. And the only one dying here is me.

  Chapter 10

  Lloyd stepped in his office and traded his white coat for the bright red polyester riding jacket he used for summer riding. A few letters sat on his desk unopened along with glossy postcards inviting him to medical conferences in the Colorado Rockies, California and Hawaii. They’d be in the recycling bin tomorrow, but now Lloyd just wanted to get on his bike and leave the medical center behind.

  One advantage of riding a motorcycle was that we was guaranteed a spot on the bottom floor of the parking structure, close to the entry leading to the covered hallway that led right into the main hospital building. As he pulled his keys out of his jacket pocket he heard an unintelligible voice from behind a concrete pylon. He placed the key in the ignition and mounted the bike. Just before he was about to punch the engine start button he heard the voice again, this time clearly: “Let go, bitch!”

  Lloyd swiveled his torso in the direction of the voice. A squat man, no more than a teenager really, with a bad crew cut and baggy jeans drooping below pale blue boxers was playing tug of war on a purse with someone hidden behind the concrete pylon.

  “Bitch!” the man shouted again as he tried to kick his victim.

  Lloyd jumped off the bike, sprinted towards the assailant and grabbed him from behind in a head lock.

  “What the fuck?” the creep said. Then he started writhing like an animal caught in a trap and Lloyd found it hard to keep his grip on him. He tried to take him down, hooking his foot around the creep’s ankle. The guy shifted his feet averting the trip. Then Lloyd realized the guy was stretching his hand towards the back pocket of his baggy jeans which, had the pants not been riding so low, he might have already reached. Lloyd grabbed the guy’s wrist with his free hand and tightened the hold around his neck. The creep’s fingers inched deeper into his pocket.

  Lloyd realized he had to do something fast. He took a couple of deep breaths to prepare himself. The guy seemed small enough that with a clean jerk he might be able to lift him off his feet and slam him to the floor. One more deep breath. Lloyd stiffened his trunk and started to lift when he felt a fireball explode in his face. Invisible knives carved into Lloyd’s eyes and nostrils and mouth, coaxing every nerve ending to erupt in a synchronized primal scream of pain.

  Lloyd fell to his knees, spitting, his eyes clenched shut. He felt something drip from his nose. Was it blood? He tried opening his eyes but the air brushing against his corneas felt like the blast of a blowtorch.

  “Oh shit, I’m sorry.” A woman’s voice.

  “What happened?” Lloyd asked.

  “Pepper spray. I was aiming for him but the nozzle must have been pointed
crooked.”

  He knew this voice.

  “I’m really sorry. Are you alright Lloyd?” She knelt next to him.

  On all fours, Lloyd turned his head toward the voice, opening the lids of one eye just a crack. All he saw was a blurred form. He blinked a few times and the figure came into focus. It was Erin.

  “Does it still hurt?” she asked.

  “What do you think?”

  “I have a bottle of water.” She unscrewed the plastic cap from the bottle and Lloyd tilted his head back. She jerked the bottle splashing water on Lloyd’s neck and chest.

  “I need it in my eyes, not on my shirt!”

  “Well lean to the side and stay still.”

  This time a soothing stream trickled into his right eye.

  “It’s a little cold,” she said.

  “No, it’s good. Other eye.”

  Lloyd leaned to the opposite side and let her pour more water. Then he grabbed the bottle from her, took a mouthful, swished it around his mouth, turned his head to the side and spit the water out. He took another swig and swallowed.

  “Let me see,” Erin said.

  Lloyd turned to face her and opened his eyes as wide as he could, which was just a little more than a slit.

  “Oh shit, Lloyd.”

  Lloyd stood up, went to the rear view mirror of a car and peered into his eyes, tugging down his lower lids. The whites of the eyes were molten lava with gooey pockets of swelling.

  “You’re having some day, aren’t you?” she said. “Come on, we better take you to the ER.”

  “You’ve been enough help for one day, thank you very much.”

  “It was an accident.” Lloyd took another sip of water and glared at her. “Look,” she said, “I’m really sorry… about everything.”

  “What happened to the guy?” Lloyd asked.

  “He ran off.” Her lips stretched in a thin smile. “That was pretty brave, Lloyd. You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a knight in shining armor.”

  “I didn’t know it was you.” Lloyd handed the bottle of water back to her and started walking toward his motorcycle.

  “Where are you going?” Erin asked.