Witch Doctor?

After 45 years practicing medicine, it still never bored me.  Frustration and exasperation sometimes, but never boredom.  My last two patients that day, after a busy day of seeing patients were enough to keep me wide awake. 

            Johnny, a fifty-five year old native patient, walked in at five o'clock.

            "What can I do for you ?" I asked him.

            "Something is interfering with my thinking, Doc," he said.

            "What do you mean?" I asked.

            "Someone put a curse on me, Doc," he said.

            "Tell me about it," said I interestedly.

            "I think it was my cousin," Johnny said.

            "Why would your cousin put a spell on you?"

            "I think it was because he thought I was making love to his girlfriend," said Johnny.

            "When was this?"

            "Oh, years ago. I took no notice, I didn't do anything, but he thinks I did, that's why he put the curse on me. Can you get rid of it?"

            I knew that what I said next was going to determine whether Johnny was going to take treatment if necessary, or not.

            "Yep, I've got some medicine here that will help you, if you really need it," I said.

            "Oh, it takes off curses?"Johnny insisted.

            "It'll really clear your mind," I countered.

            "So you can exorcise spells?"

            "We can get rid of your problem for you.  I'm not going to write you a prescription right now.  We'll talk a bit and I'm going to see you again next week and see how you are doing.

            "Okay, thanks.  I'm glad you can help me."

             I breathed a sigh of relief and after a few more questions to satisfy myself  he wasn't going to  hurt himself or anyone else, I scheduled a half hour appointment for the following week.

            Then the last patient of the day walked in to the office.

             He was about sixteen years old and he looked as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. I was alerted when I read the name on the chart, because I had seen the boy's mother not very many days earlier and she had expressed some concerns about her son. 

           I sat him down and attempted to put him at ease.

           "What can I do for you today, Glen?" I asked him.

            "I have a problem," he said, coming straight to the point.  He thrust his right hand into his trousers and pulled out an empty square tinfoil wrapper.

            "I'm hooked on this and I need help to get off it," he said, with obvious agitation.  "I feel so nervous all the time and I can't sleep.  I lie awake most of the night sweating and twitching and I can't get up in the morning.  I've been missing a lot of school."

          I looked down at the discarded  packet. Duragesic Transdermal Patch, it said, 50 micrograms per hour.  This was not good news.

            "Where have you been sticking this?"  I asked.  A transdermal patch is applied on the skin, through which the active ingredient is absorbed.

            "The kids at school cut them into four and we suck them."

            "This is heavy duty stuff," I  said.  I wanted to know where Glen had got hold of this stuff; this stuff came right out of a hospital.  It sure as hell didn't come wrapped like that on the street, but I didn't want to break the spell.  I thought I might be getting through to him.

            "Yeah, I know.  I have to do something about it," 

            "I'm going to tell you what you have to do.  You've got to join Narcotics Anonymous or Alcoholics Anonymous, you can't do this on your own."

            Glen looked doubtful. " I think I can do this on my own, if you can just give me something to help me sleep at night."

            "That's not the way it works," said I.  "Right now, you're at a crossroads in you life.  If you do things the right way now, you have a chance.  If you don't you're on the slippery slope to a life of addiction, detox centres, rehabilitation centres and worse.  If you don't want to waste your life, you have to act now."

            "Okay," Glen said, perhaps a little too readily, I thought, "I'll do it"

          I answered, "I'm going to make time to see you next week and when I do, I want to hear that you're been to an AA or a NA meeting and that you have plans to get set up with a sponsor.  I'm going to give you a few pills to help you to sleep, just a few, enough to last you until I see you next week."

          I knew I'd probably never see him again, and that he was here seeking drugs but at least I had to give him  the benefit of the doubt.