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Authors: William Peter Blatty
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note. Then he went back to work. He had to finish this week.
In the afternoon, Amfortas gave a lecture at the Georgetown University Medical School. He reviewed the case of a woman who from birth had been unable to feel any pain. As a child she had bitten off the tip of her tongue while chewing food, and had suffered third–degree burns after kneeling for minutes atop a hot radiator to look out of a window at a sunset. When later examined by a psychiatrist, she reported not feeling pain when her body was subjected to strong electric shock, to hot water at extremely high temperatures, or to an ice bath that was greatly prolonged. Equally abnormal was the fact that she showed no changes in blood pressure, heart rate or respiration when these stimuli were applied. She could not remember ever sneezing or coughing, the gag reflex could be elicited only with great difficulty, and corneal reflexes that protect the eyes were totally absent. A variety of stimuli, such as inserting a stick up through the nostrils, pinching tendons or injections of histamine under the skin–normally considered forms of torture–also failed to produce any pain.
The woman eventually developed serious medical problems: pathological changes in her knees, hip and spine. She underwent several orthopedic operations. Her surgeon attributed her problems to the lack of protection to her joints that was usually given by sensation of pain. She had failed to shift her weight when standing, to turn over in her sleep, or to avoid certain postures which produce inflammation of the joints.
She died at age twenty–nine of massive infections which could not be controlled.
There were no questions.
At three thirty–five, Amfortas was back in his office. He locked the door and sat down and waited. He knew he couldn’t work just now. Not now.
Occasionally someone would rap at the door, and he waited for the footsteps to go away. Once there was a rattling of the doorknob, then pounding, and he knew it was Temple even before he could hear his low growl through the wood of the door: “You crazy bastard, I know that you’re in there. Let me in so I can help you.” Amfortas kept silent and he heard no movement for a time on the other side of the door. Then he heard a guarded, soft “Big tits.” And another silence. He imagined that Temple had his ear to the door. At last he heard his springing footsteps creaking away on double–thick soles. Amfortas continued to mark the time.
At twenty to five he telephoned a friend at another hospital, a neurologist on the staff. When he reached him, he said, “Eddie, this is Vincent. Has my CAT–scan result come in?”
“Yes, it has. I was just about to call you.”
There was a silence.
“Is it positive?” Amfortas asked at last.
Another silence. Then, “Yes.” It was almost inaudible.
“I’ll take care of it. Goodbye, Ed.”
“Vince?”
But Amfortas was already hanging up.
He took a sheet of department stationery from a right–hand drawer of his desk, and then carefully composed a letter addressed to the Chief of Neurology.
Dear Jim:
This is difficult to say, and I’m sorry, but I need to be relieved from my regular duties effective this Tuesday evening, March 15. I need all the time I can get for my research. Tom Soames is very competent, and my patients are secure in his hands until you can find a replacement for me. By Tuesday, my reports on old patients will be finished, and Tom and I agree on the new ones seen today. After Tuesday, I’ll try to be around for consultation, but I really can’t promise. In any case, you’ll find me in the lab or at home.
I know this is sudden and will cause you some problems. Again, I’m very sorry. And I know you’ll respect my desire not to say any more about my decision. I’ll have my desk cleaned out by week’s end. The ward’s been terrific. So have you. Thanks.
Regretfully,
Vincent Amfortas
Amfortas left his office, put the letter in the Chief of
In the afternoon, Amfortas gave a lecture at the Georgetown University Medical School. He reviewed the case of a woman who from birth had been unable to feel any pain. As a child she had bitten off the tip of her tongue while chewing food, and had suffered third–degree burns after kneeling for minutes atop a hot radiator to look out of a window at a sunset. When later examined by a psychiatrist, she reported not feeling pain when her body was subjected to strong electric shock, to hot water at extremely high temperatures, or to an ice bath that was greatly prolonged. Equally abnormal was the fact that she showed no changes in blood pressure, heart rate or respiration when these stimuli were applied. She could not remember ever sneezing or coughing, the gag reflex could be elicited only with great difficulty, and corneal reflexes that protect the eyes were totally absent. A variety of stimuli, such as inserting a stick up through the nostrils, pinching tendons or injections of histamine under the skin–normally considered forms of torture–also failed to produce any pain.
The woman eventually developed serious medical problems: pathological changes in her knees, hip and spine. She underwent several orthopedic operations. Her surgeon attributed her problems to the lack of protection to her joints that was usually given by sensation of pain. She had failed to shift her weight when standing, to turn over in her sleep, or to avoid certain postures which produce inflammation of the joints.
She died at age twenty–nine of massive infections which could not be controlled.
There were no questions.
At three thirty–five, Amfortas was back in his office. He locked the door and sat down and waited. He knew he couldn’t work just now. Not now.
Occasionally someone would rap at the door, and he waited for the footsteps to go away. Once there was a rattling of the doorknob, then pounding, and he knew it was Temple even before he could hear his low growl through the wood of the door: “You crazy bastard, I know that you’re in there. Let me in so I can help you.” Amfortas kept silent and he heard no movement for a time on the other side of the door. Then he heard a guarded, soft “Big tits.” And another silence. He imagined that Temple had his ear to the door. At last he heard his springing footsteps creaking away on double–thick soles. Amfortas continued to mark the time.
At twenty to five he telephoned a friend at another hospital, a neurologist on the staff. When he reached him, he said, “Eddie, this is Vincent. Has my CAT–scan result come in?”
“Yes, it has. I was just about to call you.”
There was a silence.
“Is it positive?” Amfortas asked at last.
Another silence. Then, “Yes.” It was almost inaudible.
“I’ll take care of it. Goodbye, Ed.”
“Vince?”
But Amfortas was already hanging up.
He took a sheet of department stationery from a right–hand drawer of his desk, and then carefully composed a letter addressed to the Chief of Neurology.
Dear Jim:
This is difficult to say, and I’m sorry, but I need to be relieved from my regular duties effective this Tuesday evening, March 15. I need all the time I can get for my research. Tom Soames is very competent, and my patients are secure in his hands until you can find a replacement for me. By Tuesday, my reports on old patients will be finished, and Tom and I agree on the new ones seen today. After Tuesday, I’ll try to be around for consultation, but I really can’t promise. In any case, you’ll find me in the lab or at home.
I know this is sudden and will cause you some problems. Again, I’m very sorry. And I know you’ll respect my desire not to say any more about my decision. I’ll have my desk cleaned out by week’s end. The ward’s been terrific. So have you. Thanks.
Regretfully,
Vincent Amfortas
Amfortas left his office, put the letter in the Chief of
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