CONDITION – Book One: A Medical Miracle

by Alec Birri

  ‘Have you quite finished? Some of us have sixty years to catch up on, you know.’

  Lucy wiped away her tears. ‘Dad. I think we’d better lay down some ground rules first – I’ll operate the iPad as long as you don’t make any more jokes.’

  Dan regarded her as if she had just asked the fox not to enter the hen house any more. Sure enough, each image viewed from then on was accompanied by a comment from Dan, which invariably had Lucy needing more time to recover. Her father had always been a raconteur, but this was the first time he’d been able to exercise it in years. Even when Dan knew his witticisms had fallen flat, Lucy still laughed which just encouraged more bad jokes, of course – until the chronological order of the photographs passed 1966.

  Dan fell silent and the mood changed. Lucy had been careful to place every family occasion, from birthdays to weddings, consecutively, to help him recall the last six decades, but none of it meant anything after 1966. It wasn’t that he didn’t recognise his family or himself – the natural ageing of all concerned was perfectly acceptable. No, it was the events themselves and the passage of time between that made something else more evident.

  Everything from the advent of colour around the turn of the seventies to the changing clothing fashions, cars, and even buildings in the background – all of it made him realise how much more than just memories Alzheimer’s had cost him. It was as if that part of his life had been consumed too.

  Dan viewed an image that should have reminded him of the pride and joy he must have felt at the time – standing next to his daughter on her wedding day in 1981. The only comment he could muster was to say how much she looked like her mother on their wedding day. He broke down when Lucy told him it was the same dress.

  ‘We can stop if you want to, Dad.’

  Lucy put an arm around her father. Dan couldn’t talk, but motioned for her to continue with the photographs. She gave him a tissue and did. Later images depicted just Claire and him – particularly after they retired in 1995. Travel featured and the historical nature of the locations helped Dan to start commenting again, but only because he knew of them prior to 1966. The Pyramids, Taj Mahal, Great Wall of China – happy times.

  But then photographs of Claire and Dan’s last five years together appeared, and these were very different. It was difficult to see to begin with, as Dan was making an effort to hide what he must have known was coming. An exaggerated smile here, a convenient prop of some kind there, but the early signs of his Alzheimer’s could still be seen – particularly in the light of what he knew now.

  Dan fell silent again as the photographs progressed to show more visible indications – others in the picture having to point out the camera to him. Everyone smiling while he just stared. Other more practical difficulties emerged and with increasing severity. A walking stick. A wheelchair. A bib around his neck. The cup with two handles on the table. None of it came as a surprise, but what did upset Dan was the accelerated ageing. Not in him – in his wife.

  The effect of Dan’s dementia on Claire matched his deterioration. In every picture prior to 2016, he could still see the fourteen-year-old beauty he first fell in love with, but not afterwards. Like him, she initially tried to keep up the pretence of normality but, whereas he eventually forgot why, she didn’t and wouldn’t be allowed to. It showed. From forced smiles to the gradual lack of interest in her own appearance, the stress he put upon her increased.

  She even stopped dyeing her hair. Probably because Dan was no longer capable of recognising who she was, let alone of appreciating her crowning glory any more. If Alzheimer’s had aged him prematurely, the burden of being his carer had done something far worse to her. It was as if Death had been determined not to be cheated out of any suffering, so had forced Claire to endure the pain Dan could no longer feel, as well as her own. Dan was wrong about God and the Devil. They were both evil.

  There must have been pictures taken the day of her funeral, but he understood why Lucy hadn’t included any. The last of the photographs were of him on his own or with Lucy and Tony, but Dan didn’t want to see them. He took hold of his daughter’s hand.

  ‘Tell me the truth. How did your mother die?’

  Lucy tried to reassure him. ‘Just old age, Dad. She had a couple of minor strokes and died of a heart attack two months later.’

  Dan accepted it, but knew Claire had been forced to suffer years of agony before that. He stared at the wall opposite.

  ‘Are you okay, Dad?’

  ‘Hmmm? Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about your mother.’

  Lucy placed the iPad as a picture frame next to his bed and set it to display a slide show of the photographs.

  She had intended to show them all, but thought 1944 to 1966 would be best.

  Chapter Eight

  It was just by chance that Doctor Adams happened to be standing in reception when they arrived. He assumed the occupant of the wheelchair travelling up the ramp to be an outpatient, but the entourage following behind made him realise the hospital was about to be subject to an unannounced inspection. He told the duty receptionist to inform Professor Savage’s PA.

  The doctor seemed to be the most senior person present, so Alex made a beeline for him. ‘My name’s Alexandra Salib MP and these people are representatives of the Parliamentary Health Committee, Care Commission, and other legal bodies. We wish to inspect the premises, as allowed under the relevant section of the Health Act. Tell Professor Savage I want to see him.’

  She held up her parliamentary ID, which Adams appeared to take his time reading. He eventually handed it back. ‘Sir John has been informed. I’d be grateful if everyone could provide reception with their personal details.’

  Alex had anticipated such a response. ‘No need. The team leaders have already completed the necessary paperwork.’

  Six members of the inspection body approached the desk to hand over the information. Alex opened a map of the hospital – the corresponding six areas were marked on it.

  ‘The heads of these departments need to be here as soon as poss—’ She was interrupted by the appearance of Savage.

  ‘Ah! My dear Alex! What a very pleasant surprise, and may I be one of the first to congratulate you on your stunning victory yesterday – a historic moment for the country indeed.’

  The professor didn’t appear to be in the least bit concerned with what usually lay behind an unannounced inspection.

  ‘I didn’t introduce the Voluntary Euthanasia Bill, Professor, and you know full well we lost it.’

  ‘Really? Now that is disappointing. What must our elected peers have been thinking to actually deny the democratic wish of the people? You must continue to fight the good fight to ensure justice is done.’ He continued to grandstand. ‘To be part of such a vital step forward in the future of the people can only reflect well on those who enable it, and I’m sure the crucial part you play will not go unnoticed.’

  He loomed over her.

  ‘My only hope is that nothing unforeseen should come along and spoil it all. Nature’s laws of unintended consequences can be most unforgiving – don’t you think?’

  Alex ignored what was plainly an attempt to delay. ‘Escort one of the teams and me to this department.’ She raised the map. Savage gave it a cursory inspection.

  ‘Of course! But all in good time. Surely you must be in need of some refreshment after your long journey. Tea? Coffee? Something stronger, perhaps? I have an excellent twenty-five-year single malt just waiting for the right excuse.’

  Alex had only been there five minutes and already she’d had enough of his bullshit. She pushed the map into his stomach. ‘Take us there. Now.’

  The professor motioned for the lift doors to be opened, and stood to one side for her to pass. He deposited the map into a bin as she did.

  ‘Not the elevator,’ said Alex. ‘I may as well assess t
he suitability of access while I’m here.’

  She headed towards a door marked with the logo of a wheelchair and her team followed. So did two police officers.

  A few descending ramps later and they arrived at the entrance to the research department. Adams went ahead to get the door. Alex stopped as he held it open for her.

  ‘Where’s the pad?’

  Adams looked at her.

  She repeated herself. ‘Where’s the pad – the button at waist height that opens the door automatically, so the department is accessible to all?’

  An uncomfortable silence followed, during which the professor moved between her and the doctor.

  ‘Important as that clearly is, none of our researchers currently require such a device, but I’m sure that would be quickly rectified should the need arise.’

  Alex rounded on him. ‘Not good enough. What if I were a new graduate looking to work here? How welcome do you think that would make me feel? It should have been rectified years ago.’ She turned to her team. ‘Make a note of that.’

  They exchanged puzzled looks before doing so.

  The first room was entered. Test tubes, Bunsen burners, Petrie dishes, and various other bits of apparatus needed for the development and testing of potential cures abounded. Three of the inspection team set about their tasks by questioning the researchers present.

  Other doors led from the room and Alex pointed to one of them. ‘What’s in there?’

  ‘That’s the cold room. It’s where we store what we do here.’

  ‘And just what do you do here, Professor?’

  Savage scanned those present. ‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss the exact nature of that, as it’s still classified, but I can assure the member for Brighton Pavilion, a public announcement is imminent.’

  She indicated the other door. ‘And what goes on in there?’

  ‘In there? Oh, that’s just where we keep the animals.’

  Alex’s resolve firmed as the reason for the inspection drew near. ‘And just what do you do to those poor creatures, Professor Savage?’

  Savage placed a hand under the opposite elbow and stroked his chin while he appeared to ponder that. ‘I suppose we’re currently subjecting them to extreme temperatures.’

  Alex snapped an order to her team. ‘Get in there – now!’

  The police officers moved closer to the professor while the instruction was followed. Alex could sense a tremendous justice was about to be dispensed, and turned to enjoy the look on the professor’s face as it happened. Annoyingly, he seemed bemused.

  The team burst into the room just in time to stop a technician from disposing of what looked to be evidence into a furnace. One of the policemen grabbed what was in the man’s hand. It was a plastic bag containing a dead rat – frozen solid. He passed it to his colleague, who wrinkled his nose before handing it over to Alex.

  It fell to the floor when she realised how cold it was. That and all the empty cages in the room confused her. Savage walked over to a chest freezer and opened it. He reached in and took out a similarly preserved animal. He then spoke as if Alex wasn’t there.

  ‘It was during our meeting in my club that I first realised the Honourable Alexandra Salib MP is not the kind of person to suffer fools. When she said: “Not if the research involves animals, abuse of the unborn, or any other creature unable to make its own decision”, I knew then she meant exactly that and wouldn’t tolerate anything else. Which is why I gave immediate instructions for all such testing to cease both here and in all other facilities over which I have control.’

  Savage raised the deceased rodent up to his face, as if to confirm its condition. ‘Sadly, we weren’t able to find good homes for them all and, I regret to say, humane euthanasia, followed by the appropriate health and safety legislation, became the only alternative.’ He peered through the transparency and into the half-open eyes of the gently thawing cadaver. He kissed it. ‘Sweet dreams, Cecil.’

  The body was then tossed unceremoniously into the still-open furnace. Savage clasped his hands together. ‘Now! Who’s for a glass of quarter-century Glenmorangie?’

  Alex was rattled, but more convinced than ever that the professor’s arrogance belied a genuine enjoyment of suffering, and evidence of it would be in the hospital somewhere.

  ‘Where are they, Professor?’

  The look of bemusement returned. ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘The live animals you conduct your evil experiments on.’

  The assumption Savage was somehow in league with the Devil seemed to encourage yet more theatrical behaviour. ‘Evil? I say, isn’t that putting it a little strongly? I will admit my work does cause a great deal of stress and anxiety to the poor things, but the satisfaction I get from that cannot be ignored.’

  Savage appeared to be mad as well as bad.

  Alex glanced at the two police officers and pounced on the apparent confession. ‘So you admit to deliberately causing pain and suffering?’

  The professor appeared to bow to inevitability. ‘I’m afraid so.’

  The superior of the two officers spoke. ‘We’re still going to need evidence, Ms Salib.’

  Savage’s face lit up. ‘And you shall have it! I simply adore showing off what we do here – follow me!’

  Alex wondered if his eccentric behaviour masked some kind of denial. Savage strode back through the laboratory and held the door open for them all to leave. They filed past his unbroken smile.

  Alex again insisted on using the ramps which meant that by the time they had travelled four floors up, everyone was out of breath apart from her and the professor. Nothing seemed to curtail his enthusiasm. He led them through the geriatric ward and into the conservatory at the far end. He stood in the middle of it.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my laboratory of live animals.’ Savage looked down his nose at Alex. ‘Although, I prefer the term human beings myself. I find they respond so much better to treatment when referred to that way.’

  Alex scanned the old-aged pensioners around her. ‘What are you up to, Professor?’

  He cocked his head to one side. ‘My job. You made your requirements perfectly clear and I have complied with them.’ He closed the distance to her and bent down to whisper. Alex grimaced and twisted her head away. ‘Just as I know you will mine.’

  Savage stood back up and turned to the police officers. ‘Gentlemen, I do believe you require evidence of the suffering I have caused these good people. Please feel free to ask each in turn for details of the horrors I have deliberately inflicted upon them. I’m sure you will find it most enlightening.’

  The senior officer approached Alex. ‘Ms Salib, the arrest warrant only covers the 1986 Animals Act. Even if someone is prepared to make an accusation against Sir John, it would need to be investigated first.’

  Alex’s blood boiled. She approached one of the patients. ‘Is it true? Has this man deliberately hurt you?’

  The old man placed a hand on her knee, and spoke slowly.

  ‘You’re in a hospital, dear. Everything’s going to be all right.’

  The sound of Adams and the inspection team attempting to suppress their mirth didn’t exactly calm Alex. The professor knelt beside the patient.

  ‘How do you do? My name is Professor Sir John Savage and this is the Honourable Alexandra Salib MP. She and her colleagues have been tasked to inspect the hospital, and she’s keen to know details of the pain you’ve suffered during your treatment.’

  The geriatric looked at them both before furrowing his brow. ‘It’s a hospital – pain is as good as guaranteed.’

  Alex sighed at what seemed to be another humiliation at the professor’s hands. Ever the professional, she covered her embarrassment by taking a politician’s interest in the old man’s condition. He explained it to her while
the inspection team and the police officers prepared to leave.

  The patient had said something interesting which made Alex question some of the other patients in the same way. She turned back to her nemesis. Her mood hadn’t just improved – she was smiling.

  ‘You lied, Sir John. These poor people arrived here with Alzheimer’s disease and at a stage which made it impossible for them to personally agree to their treatment.’ She emphasised her point by repeating the last part of the demand she’d made in the professor’s club: ‘Or any other creature unable to make its own decision.’

  Alex knew the police wouldn’t be interested as the relatives would have had powers of attorney but that didn’t stop Savage from seizing yet another opportunity to play-act. He dropped his chin to his chest and put his hands out to the officers, as if to offer them a chance to handcuff him. He looked up and left for a moment.

  ‘What’s the phrase? Oh yes.’ He dropped his head again. ‘It’s a fair cop.’ He half-raised his head and squinted out of one eye. ‘I’ve heard the tea is particularly good in prison but, alas, not the whisky.’

  Alex manoeuvred her wheelchair passed him and made for the exit. ‘Joke all you want, Professor, but you haven’t complied with my requirements after all, which means I don’t have to comply with yours either. Good day.’

  The professor stood and watched Alex’s departure in silence. Dan wheeled his chair up to him.

  ‘Sir John?’

  The professor looked down to see where the voice was coming from.

  ‘I just wanted to say on behalf of everyone here, thank you for what you’ve done for us.’ Dan didn’t know why the visiting MP appeared to miss the importance of the professor’s work but, nevertheless, wanted to show how much it was still appreciated by them all.