Free The Doctor Is Sick by Anthony Burgess Page A

operation’s a simple enough matter.’
    â€˜Supposing it’s malignant?’
    â€˜I don’t think it is that. You can never be sure, of course, but I don’t think it is that. The layman,’ said Dr Railton, depressing imaginary trumpet-valves on the bed-cover, ‘the layman tends to get emotional about medical terms. Cancer, gastric, malignant. Just take it that there’s something in your head which is doing you no good at all, and that something can be removed swiftly, simply and painlessly. I’m sorry,’ said Dr Railton, ‘that we had to burden your wife with our suspicions. She’s a strongly emotional type. But there was the business of getting her permission to operate, if operating became necessary.’
    â€˜You got her permission?’
    â€˜Oh, yes. She was very concerned about you, very anxious that you should be made well again.’
    â€˜And how about my permission?’
    â€˜Well,’ said Dr Railton, ‘obviously you can’t be dragged into the operating theatre screaming your refusal to be operated on. You’re sane enough, and you have the power to choose. But I think you’ll see that it’s very much in your interests to say yes.’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ said Edwin. ‘I haven’t felt too bad really, despite the collapses, despite other odd things, sex and what-not. I have a feeling that I’ll survive somehow without anybody mucking about inside my head.’
    â€˜You can’t be too sure of that,’ said Dr Railton, still depressing, with vibrant fingers, the trumpet-valves on the coverlet. ‘I’d say it was dangerous the way you are. There’s also the question of your job back in Burma.’
    â€˜I could give that up.’
    â€˜You’d have to get another job somewhere. That won’t be easy. And do remember that you’ll get steadily worse.’
    Edwin thought for a minute. ‘There’s no doubt about its being successful?’
    â€˜There’s always some doubt. There’s got to be. But the chances are overwhelmingly in favour of this operation going well. I’d say about a hundred to one. You’ll be a changed man when it’s all over, you won’t be the same person at all. You’ll bless us, really you will.’
    â€˜A changed man, eh? A man with a changed personality.’
    â€˜Oh, not fundamentally different. Shall we say a healthy man instead of a sick one?’
    â€˜I see. All right. When?’
    â€˜Next Tuesday. Good,’ said Dr Railton, ‘good man.’
    â€˜Supposing I change my mind before then?’
    â€˜Don’t,’ said Dr Railton earnestly, ‘don’t, whatever you do. Trust us, trust me.’ He stood with his arms out, a figure to be trusted, looking all too much, however, like a dance-band trumpeter who had put down his instrument in order to take a vocal.
    â€˜All right,’ said Edwin. ‘I trust you.’

CHAPTER NINE
    On Sunday afternoon Sheila came, only a little tipsy, dragging in by the hand a reluctant young man with a beard. She looked younger and prettier, was smartly made-up, and wore her beige opossum coat swinging open over a new mohair dress. ‘Darling,’ she cried. ‘Darling, darling.’
    â€˜Forgive me,’ said Edwin, ‘if I don’t start out of bed to greet you. It’s this air that’s still buzzing about inside.’
    â€˜Oh,’ said Sheila, ‘of course you two haven’t met. Strange, isn’t it, really? Nigeledwin. Edwinigel. I’m sure you’d like each other a lot if you got a chance to meet properly.’
    â€˜How do you do.’
    â€˜How do you do.’
    â€˜Look here,’ said Edwin, ‘that awful little man pinched my watch. The one you beat at shove-ha’penny who calls himself ’Ippo.’
    â€˜Did he? That’s annoying. I haven’t seen him since, nor has anybody. He was