Far From The Madding Crowd

It was official.

It had finally dawned on a member of the medical profession that he was far more ill than any predecessor had considered; or indeed had been able to discover.

Solomon nodded, and agreed he did feel very sick, very sick.

The doctor explained it was his yellow eyeballs that had aroused his suspicion. Not in such terms, his explanation was more medicalised, more convoluted, more proposterously complicated.

“Jaundice…”, odd word, sounded like she should be at a boarding school, bunking off, giggling at posh boys over lawn parties, splattered on a postcard in a phone box.

Not revealing a buggered up liver.

“I see”, said Solomon.

“Mr West it’s a lot to take in…”, the doctor stated morosely with sufficient gravitas and poise. He’s very good at that, Solomon thought, Ive no reason to think he doesn’t care. Solomon blinked, eyelids warm and strained. He hadn’t blinked for some time.

A slight smile, a cock of the head, eyes moistening, glistening even…how many times this man must have said such thing, to so many people…and yet it was like it was the first time, the first time over and over…that took what? skill? is being human a skill? can you learn to be human?

“Do you understand Mr West?”

“Uh, ah, yes… I understand…”

“You will need some time to think over youre options. Everyone must do what they feel right for them. We should meet again very soon.”

“Yes thank you…soon…when…er, does it matter when, i mean, really? i value your opinion see. In the grand scheme of things, things being what they are. They seem pretty final, pretty clear cut.”

“Well yes, there are always options Mr West, we will book you in for the end of the week. We can talk about it then…”

Options.

Like choosing your classes at school.

He didn’t care much for what the doctor had had to say. He wasn’t sure why he had bothered to make it official. He knew he sick anyway. Perhaps, it had been to prove all the others wrong who had come before. One had told him it was all in his head. He hoped not, as there want much that could be done about that.

The next few days were spent in a state of being feverishly present. He couldn’t distract himself from reality; life was full on when you didn’t want it to be. He had spent most of his life in a different timezone – the past, the future, daydreaming – now he was forced to witness each moment with the blare of heightened senses. His head turned up to the full.

Remarkably it all slowed to a dimmed acceptance within a few days. He had spent years rehearsing for the eventuality.

He hadn’t been enjoying himself much anyway.