the receptionist ushered the patient into dr. walter needzak's office. she punched her glasses higher onto the bridge of her nose, patted the bun of hair at the back of her head, and said:
"this is mr. stallings, doctor."
dr. needzak motioned the patient to a chair. stallings sat down, slowly but limberly. he still held his hat, and placed it in the precise center of his lap. the receptionist handed a form to dr. needzak and returned to the waiting room, after looking once over her shoulder.
"you're only 125, mr. stallings?" dr. needzak asked. the patient nodded sadly. "well, you should be hale and hearty for another 50 years, judging by the report on your preliminary exam. are you sure that it's any use for you to consult me?"
"i wouldn't bother you," stallings said, age showing only in the high pitch of his voice, "except for the funny feeling in my chest the other day. i had to visit an office on the twelfth story. the elevator wasn't running, so i walked up. just as an experiment, i went as fast as i could. the way my chest felt got me so interested and excited that i forgot what i wanted at the office, once i was there. so i thought that that was a hopeful enough sign for me to come around and see you."
dr. needzak, a young man at 50 and who looked even younger, hoisted the stethoscope amplifier onto his desk, turned it on, and signalled for stallings to unbutton his shirt. he placed the stethoscope against the bony chest. the bumping of the heart filled the room, drew a wild pattern on the unfolding strip of paper in the visual section of the amplifier, and created magnetic patterns on the tape.
dr. needzak listened for two minutes, then thumbed through a reference listing of visual heart patterns. finally he switched off the amplifier, and said:
"you have no history of heart trouble."
"i'm afraid not."
"well, i don't want to raise false hopes. the only thing that i can suggest is more physical exertion. really vigorous exertion, the kind that makes you pant and tremble and get a bit dizzy. try that every day for a month and come back to see me. there's just a trace of a flutter now, and we might be able to speed up its development."
the old man smiled for the first time, at something that his eyes saw behind the white plaster of the far wall. finally, stallings rose to leave. buttoning himself up, he said: "you'll send the bill?"
dr. needzak laughed genially. "i can see that you aren't accustomed to visiting doctors, young man. the better the doctor, the more risky it is to send the bill. my policy is to request full payment before the patient leaves the office, just in case i've given the right sort of advice. in cases where i prescribe medicine, of course, you may pay for the prescription and the consultation fee simultaneously. before taking the medicine, you understand." again he laughed.
"i understand. i should have guessed. i work in a bank myself. i hate the work. i'm tired of everything, in fact. but i know how important it is to pay promptly."
the doctor had just filed away stallings' physical record when the receptionist ushered in an extremely elderly woman. dr. needzak smiled broadly, and said:
"mrs. watkins! i didn't expect to see you again so soon." he waved in annoyance at the receptionist, who hovered behind the new patient. she left, reluctantly.
mrs. watkins groped her way to the chair, wincing when the receptionist slammed the door. the old woman rubbed her bony forehead with a mottled hand that trembled and said:
"i know that i wasn't supposed to come back for another three months. but did you realize that i'll have my 190th birthday before those three months are up? when a person gets to be that old, she looks forward to seeing the doctor more than she used to look forward for santa to arrive back in the old days."
"no symptoms since your last visit?" dr. needzak spoke more loudly than usual in deference to her failing hearing, and turned up the light to aid weak, old eyes.
"none." she spat out the word. "i'm going to change doctors, if this keeps up. i've heard of a couple of doctors who aren't as scrupulous as you are. after living all this time, i think that i could be permitted one little crime, lying to them about a symptom. then i know that i'd be made happy. what's the use being moral when you're too frail and tottery to enjoy life?"
dr. needzak shook his head, disapprovingly. "i don't think you're quite as miserable as you think you are. don't go to those quack doctors. suppose you're caught, halfway through a crime? you might linger for decades, half-well, half-sick, from the effects of what they'd give you. even the quacks won't supply you with strychnine, you know."
"i know. i shouldn't have suggested it. but i get so tired of living."
"well, i can't see any physical trouble that could have developed enough to warrant a complete exam since your last one. maybe those arteries will start hardening by the time you have that 190th birthday. or you could take up chemistry as a hobby. just think what a fine explosion you might get mixed up in!"
"i thought of that." a couple of tears trickled down the wrinkled cheeks of mrs. watkins. "but the thrice-great-grandchildren watch me like a hawk. they don't let me do anything that might hurt me. i suppose i'll just have to wait, and hope, and wait, and pray."
she rose, very suddenly. then she shook her head disgustedly. "i don't even get dizzy when i do that, like most people my age. thank you, anyway, doctor." mrs. watkins walked out with dignity.
dr. needzak noticed that his waiting room was filling rapidly, during the two seconds that mrs. watkins opened the door to leave. he fumed inwardly at his patience in dealing at length with cases like the last two, whom he couldn't possibly be sure of helping.
but his ill-humor was replaced by astonishment. the receptionist introduced a woman even younger than he. she was very pale, but dr. needzak guessed that that pallor derived from tension, not some rare organic disturbance.
"are you sure that you haven't made a mistake, miss tillett?" he asked the question quietly, trying to catch her eyes. she kept them resolutely on her hands, which were folding and unfolding in her lap.
"i talked with several good friends before coming to you, doctor," the girl said. her voice was very low. "you had been a good doctor for their grandparents or great-grandparents. they told me that you could help me, if anybody could."
"but your preliminary examination shows nothing whatsoever wrong with you," the doctor said. "it'll be another century before you would normally develop the slightest symptom on which i'd be allowed to work. and people of your age just don't go to doctors. it's only when you're past the century mark, and know that decade after decade stretches out ahead of you, that you start feeling that a doctor might—"
"please," she interrupted, almost inaudibly. "i don't think that a physician should allow the consideration of a patient's age to enter into his course of action. for personal reasons, i may need a doctor more than the average person six times my age."
"will you tell me something about yourself? i'm not curious, except as far as knowledge might affect my recommendations."
"i don't care to discuss personal problems. now, doctor, your assistant who gave the preliminary examination overlooked the reason for my coming to you. right here," and she carefully touched a spot on the well-tailored dress. "i think that it might be a tumor."
"what good does it do to come to a doctor for that?" dr. needzak said. "tumors are so rare that there's very little chance that it's more than your imagination. and the best physician can't speed up the growth of a tumor, or change it from benign to malign."
"a physician can diagnose," she answered. "if it's malign, i'll be able to have patience. i won't need to break the law." unexpectedly, grotesquely, she drew one finger across her throat in a cutting gesture, and looked squarely at him for the first time.
dr. needzak walked softly to the door that led to the reception room. he drew noiselessly a bolt across the jamb, locking it. then he pointed to another door, telling the girl: "go in there and undress. i'll be ready for you in a moment."
he whistled softly under his breath, as he pulled instruments and jars of colored substances from the deepest recesses of a cupboard.
the girl already lay calmly on a metal table in the inner room when dr. needzak entered. he staggered a trifle under a precariously balanced pile of equipment in his arms. he explained:
"i should let the receptionist do the hard work like this. but i don't let her snoop around in this private room."
"will you really need all those things?" the girl asked, uncertainly. "i thought that you just snip out a tiny specimen with a little gadget, to make a diagnosis."
"i could probably get along with just that one gadget," the doctor said. he pulled a mask from a drawer and snapped on the sterilite. "but i'm an old boy scout at heart. always prepared." unexpectedly, he plopped the mask squarely over the girl's face. her cry was almost inaudible, as the thick gauze clamped itself over her mouth, clung tightly beneath the jaw.
dr. needzak pinioned her shoulders to the table, while her legs kicked wildly for a few seconds. the anesthetic stopped the kicking within five seconds. he waited for a count of ten, before he wrenched the mask free. turning up the sterilite to full strength, dr. needzak began to line up surgical instruments in a neat row, humming under his breath.
