Chapter 10
"Hello…Ted?"
"Yes, this is Ted—Dr. Hubert. How may I help you?"
"Ted, this is Farouk,"(short pause) "Imran. Farouk Imran."
"Oh, hey, Farouk! How’ve you been? Long time, no talk. I barely recognized your voice. You coming down with something, or are you finally losing that accent of yours?"
"You wouldn’t believe me if I told you."
"Try me. But make it quick. As you’re probably aware, we’ve had some action down in your neck of the woods."
"Yes. I’m aware."
"Well, go on," Hubert urged.
"It’s about a patient of mine. I’m sorry for calling you out of the blue like this—"
"Don’t mention it."
"But this should be of interest to you as well." (A deep breath) "So this mother brings her son into the clinic yesterday, claiming he has some sort of animal bite—"
"Whoa, whoa…" Hubert interrupted. "Is this going where I think it’s going?"
"Yes," Imran mumbled.
"Just making sure. Go on."
"Anyway, this kid is about sixteen, maybe seventeen, and he’s obviously an alcoholic. I mean, I can smell it on his breath. Horrendous breath. And he’s obese, too. As soon as I walk in the room, he starts in on me. ‘I smell something,’ he says—as if I’ve never heard that one before. People around here take one look at my beard and think they’ve got me all sized up. Rednecks…"
"Read you loud and clear, doc."
Imran chuckled softly into the receiver. "It’s as if the diplomas on the wall mean nothing. To them, I’m just another smelly A-rab. But, I digress. Here’s why I called you: I had to start the rabies series on the kid."
"I guessed that much," the voice on the line said.
"I bet you didn’t guess that I’m on the series, too."
"What?!"
"Yes, sir. I am. But let me tell you the story first."
"Wait. You took something, didn’t you?"
"Percocet."
"Sheesh…Let me guess: it’s part of the story?"
"Yeah. So anyway," Imran slurred, "this kid is giving me a hard time. He won’t let me lift his shirt, he’s talking back to me, yelling, screaming, the whole nine yards. So I leave, thinking maybe he’ll calm down if I go away for a while. When I come back with the vaccine ten minutes later, he’s a little more relaxed. Except now I’m the one who’s nervous. I keep thinking he’s going to panic and do something crazy when he sees the needle. Because a lot of them do—panic, that is. Never before in my life had I been so scared of a patient attacking me. And you know what? That’s exactly what he did."
"No shit! What did he do?"
"He punched me!" Imran shouted, reliving the moment. "He knocked me out!"
"You going to sue?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Poor," was all Imran said, yet it seemed to answer Hubert’s question precisely.
Hubert backtracked, "Was it the needle?"
"No, I don’t think so. The kid had his eyes closed when I began the globulin injections—sweating, murmuring words I couldn’t make out, and basically being a big baby about the whole thing, which is what he is: a big baby. But at least he was a motionless big baby. I got through the first couple of injections without any problems. Then he opened his eyes and began babbling to his mother about how his friends were using him for his food, whatever that meant."
Ted Hubert laughed into the line.
"What’s so funny, Ted?"
"You."
"Me?"
"Yeah, you. How many of those Percocet did you take?"
"Two."
"Try taking one next time. You don’t sound like yourself at all."
"Ted," Imran began, seriously, "I’m in a lot of pain here. Just so you know, it’s not just the drugs that are making me sound like this. He knocked out two of my molars."
"I’m sorry, Farouk. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just that, back in med school, you were always so dignified and…um…on top of things."
"And now I sound like a raving lunatic. Is that what you’re trying to say?"
"Well…yes!"
"I’m sorry, too, Ted," Imran said, composing himself. "My whole reason for calling was to inform you that I had to treat a wild animal bite here in Greenville. Now I’m no expert, but the bite looked raccoon to me. Did I mention this kid lives in Riley?"
"No, you didn’t. But that‘s very interesting."
"His mother claimed he was passed out when it happened, and when he woke, he noticed the wounds on his back. He also had numerous superficial scratches surrounding the bite. I don’t know if that’s of any help to you, but I just thought you should know, considering what happened over there a couple of days ago. I’ve given a full statement to the local police about what I saw and what it possibly means.
"It means more work for my team. That’s what it means."
"That’s why you get paid the big bucks," Imran kidded.
"What ‘big bucks’? It’s government work."
"Listen. I wasn’t awake when it happened, but my nurses told me afterwards that while I was unconscious, the kid holed himself in the examining room and used my body to prop the door shut. They said he kept screaming and crying, screaming and crying—alternating like that between bouts of silence. It doesn’t make sense, and it goes against the grain of all I know about that particular virus and its incubation times, but I think that kid has full-blown rabies.
"Was he foaming?"
"No, but his mother told me he’d been drinking lots of water."
"That hardly confirms a diagnosis. In fact, if he’s able to drink, it means he doesn’t have full-blown rabies."
"I know that, Ted. But you weren’t there. There was something extremely wrong with that boy. Maybe he has a new variant of the disease. Maybe the virus mutated."
"Or maybe he’s just crazy."
"That could be it, too," Imran said resignedly. "Will the CDC check it—check him—out? I’ve got a feeling in my gut that this is very big. Very big indeed."
"Don’t worry, doc. That’s what my team does: checks things out. Farouk?"
"Yes, Ted?"
"Try to get some rest. You sound like shit."
"Will do."
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