Araqiel's Court

The faint beeping of a medical machine echoed from further down the hall. The paper covering the exam table crinkled beneath Adrian as he fidgeted in place. Finally, Dr. Merrill looked up from his clipboard. His wrinkled eyes squinted before he licked his lips and spoke in a smooth baritone.

“We aren’t seeing the improvements we would have hoped for.”

“The improvements aren’t as good as we’d hoped they would be?” Adrian asked. “Or we aren’t seeing any improvements at all?”

Dr. Merrill dodged the question. “You’ve been following the diet? And exercising regularly?”

“Yes,” Adrian replied, frustrated. “Every day. It isn’t helping.”

“We don’t know that,” he chided as he spun around on his stool to rifle through the jars behind him. Your condition would likely be worse otherwise.”

For months now Adrian had been obsessively monitoring what he ate. He ran for a mile every morning. He'd followed Dr. Merrill's advice as thoroughly as he could. He’d been hoping for better news. “The muscle spasms are coming more often. Once or twice a week now.”

“These things take time.” The doctor spun back around.

“And exactly how much of that do I have to work with?” Adrian asked pointedly.

Dr. Merrill sighed. “You know it’s variable. You probably have another six to twenty-four months before you’ll need a mobility device. Maybe more if we can find a treatment that your treatment responds well to. Degenerative diseases…”

“I don’t need the spiel,” Adrian cut him off. He took a breath to calm down. “What about experimental treatments?”

Dr. Merrill frowned. “Clinical trials? I don’t know of any off the top of my head. But I can call around. In the meantime, I’ll write you a refill for the muscle relaxers. Call the office if they stop helping. And stay on top of your program. Any other symptoms? Incontinence? Difficulty breathing?”

“No,” Adrian shook his head. “Just the spasms, for now.”

“Good. That’s good,” the doctor mumbled. He quickly scrawled out Adrian’s prescription, then tore the sheet off and handed it over. “Let the nurses know if there’s anything else.”

That was all the time Adrian was going to get with the man. Evidently, it was some other patient’s turn to be rushed out of their exam room.

Diet and exercise may help buy him more time, it certainly couldn’t hurt, but it wasn’t enough. Pills could take the edge off of his spasms but they couldn't slow the disease itself down. Adrian had to face the fact that even with the most involved doctor in the world - which he didn't have - that there just wasn’t a cure to be had.

Nervously, Adrian let his mind wander to the other option. He stared down at the barely legible signature on his prescription. It was insane. He knew that. He only entertained it as a kind of escapism. Only an idiot would take it seriously. But then, any chance of a cure was better than none at all right? Was it even more ridiculous not to try just because he was scared of seeming foolish? Adrian didn’t need to go all the way with it, he told himself. He just needed to do this little part right now, and it was such a small thing to do. What’s the harm?

“Doctor?” Adrian asked.

The older man, who had been halfway out the door already, turned back. “Yes?”

“Do you promise it’ll work?” Adrian asked weakly.

Dr. Merrill took on a stoic demeanor. We’re doing everything we can.”

That had been a stupid way to go about it. Dr. Merrill was experienced enough not to promise a patient more than he could deliver. Adrian took a second to reformulate. Adrian did his best to seem scared, not exactly a stretch for him, and fixed a worried expression on his face. “Well, can you at least promise that we’ll keep trying?”

“Of course,” he said. Dr. Merrill may not be the nurturing type but it would be unbelievably callous not to offer reassurance. “I’m your doctor, Adrian. No one’s giving up. Let’s just give it another month and see where we’re at.” Dr. Merrill looked over his shoulder at the hall behind him. “Unfortunately, I do have other patients though.”

“It’s alright,” Adrian said waving him off. “I have what I need.”

“Right.” Dr. Merrill said with a nod. “Hang in there.”

Alone now, Adrian cradled the prescription. He had what he needed indeed. A promise and a signature.