Chapter Fourteen
Professionals pass through many heralding from the innocence of aspiring childhood, being coasted and nurtured, to empowering adolescence in aspiring youth and gaining success and satisfaction, and on into determined young-adulthood. Of the many pretenses of life... Of inspiration, duty and confirmative-work. Of energy anointing and espousal; of pride, proof and preparation. As one’s personal-reward or daunting-challenge. In understanding, inferring and ode; exacted against anomaly. By the guises of providence and proven, perpetuation. Dr. P.O., was one of a higher-scale of personal-devotee and the self-deriving, determining of perpetuity and a prefect of duly, forceful and formative-men... Dr. Peter was a Maryland-born professional with all the layers of resident imports. The efficiency of the 2-men at their job, and the great accord of their work put them in close-proximity. Although, P.O.: Perry Oscar, was donned in their-duties, Peter knew nothing of the incident. Much of Dr. P.O.’s and Peter’s-interaction were consistent and carefully, molded. Dr. Doule, was consummate and all, as sound and considerate. Just as though, he didn’t share the factors of his international private-life. He kept others in the know by persona and perspective. He’d rounded-up as an affirmed-intellectual. Bought-on, in as the firms of medical-psychologies; established-protocol and proficiency, duties-abreast. A constituent-of design, and direction-of the Unit, and hospital.
A carefully, chosen, imminent-instilling and in a cooperation-of the hospital’s charter and directive. He-acted as careful Unit-coordinate, the Units-director, and proponent of hospital-enlisting... A provision-aligner and projector of the hospital’s executive-order. Though, he was frontline, he was the enactor-of terms. When Dr. Doule, was moved by mission or might, he knew what to calmly and clearly, do. A high-level-pragmatist; the lines, legitimates-of course, and recourse-were fractured into multiple-alights. That evening, a new-revelation took-shape in the reference-of things. Peter, was home when P.O. Called; ‘I’m afraid you, and all my colleagues, will need to meet with me-first-thing, Monday morning...’ ‘We have a ‘digger’-’all-suited’-for the institute...’ Peter thought-it ‘strange’, yet he knew Dr. Doule wouldn’t pull-punches. Something had moved-him; had made the order of things become, ‘askew’. Dr. P.O. And Peter had worked close-at hand; to solve, repair and amend some of the hospital’s institutional-concerns, in everything, things were made ‘plain’. And Dr. Doule, was a very-capable individual, through it all. The level to which Peter could realize, rationalize and ratify by the instilling-standards, were concurred to be fulfilled.
He was a man-of-calling; from images, to ‘icons’ to ideas many had been designed by Dr. Doule. The decency and dedication, conferred-upon him was no-accident. Exploring him, was like a library of refinement... Adjunct-to the hospital-leaders in Liverpool. A graduate of Oxford with an internship-in as ‘duty-master’; and soon, as Peter, associate Psychology-Department Head... His life-was cultured, civil and associative-to all the doctorates in-avail. As his prospectus grew, so did his honorable-expertise. And now, a lead-Unit steward in a large mental-health hospital... Among his-favorite achievements, was to work-in the U.S. With leading psychology-physicians. Now, imposing on it, with several acts-of slight-violence; which on his-estimation was quite an elaboration. He was going to get to the bottom-of this. His-sincerity, was without a-doubt. The head security-officer was called-in at 6 a.m., and was explained-what had happened... The ‘blood’, which stained the carpet, housekeeping began cleaning and the splotches on his private-duty leather upholstered-chairs were all wiped clean, with freshener. The incident, was spoken of hospital-wide. It needed to be. But it was kept under-professional wraps. As the many network-cofactors in clinic-interaction, it was a professional-containing.
It eventually, went to Paul Winthrop, 68 years-old Chairman of Carsen’s in-services. He-realized one of his hand-picked-leaders, experienced something out of the ‘ordinary’... Realizing P.O., was no-forensic; he asked him for a rundown... He put the head-security in charge to do a hospital-wide investigation by the first-day of the week. ...He explained this to P.O., and told him he could take the week-off... What was important was that he was and remained-alright. He immediately, put in-charge the associate Unit-Head, Dr. Peter McBride, as Unit coordinator in-charge and told him to officiate. Peter had come in on his week-off. His daughter would be heading back to school in 4-days. Police investigators felt it was an inside-action. An officer was put on detail in plain-clothes. Radio-patrol buzzed with back and forth activity. No one knew who the culprit was, yet Dr. P.O. Was the wrong one to pull pranks on. ...Head of Security, Larry C. Wilcox was an official who took his work very seriously. A devotee of duty, seriousness and consummate hospital-security. He’d spent 28 years, on the job. From attendant-aide in the early 70’s, to supervisor, to police-experience; to retiring to spend days as a committed, Carsen P.C. Hospital security-patrol... He had all the hospital-wide safety at his-command.
He showed others what true discipline and dedication was... His grey-hair was pulled-back in a pony-tail. A left-over Hippy, yet totally in-control. The smell of cologne, steel and leather radiate from him. Everyone took him to be a trust-worthy, wise and highly, competent individual. Single now, after his divorce, he was still handsome. A hard to rile man he’d seen good-times and rough. And came through on-top. Yet had seen his workplace pass and become a social-division. He didn’t let ‘crap’ get to him. Yet also he didn’t give-in to frivolity. He’d known Dr. P.O. For a number of years from his installation when he was needed by the new-coordinating team. He, too saw the many mast-heads change. Yet taken seriously, he figured they were very-skilled, he was no doctor and he was no executive; he was there to enforce security-provisions. That didn’t mean he didn’t understand the same precepts. So, as Dr. P.O. Was having problems he was there to see after them.
He began with the scenes, events and occurrences and spoke with all involved. He realized from the start this was a very strange-event. Possibly, an inside job, which meant on-assumption; had to be, made before too long. As the exchange went from patrolling, leaders, security-staff, and the police there would be a new intensive, to be in-order. Roll-call, check outs and surveillances, were stepped-up. Head-patrol leads were detailed by Unit-sector and on hospital-grounds. (Crackle)’We need men-to patrol from top to bottom, clear those shadows and check receiving-areas’... (Crackle),(Crackle)’Will do’... Chief Wilcox, would make certain no-one else, would be able to invade hospital-grounds, without being caught... Dr. Pete was leaving his-office and noticed the guard at the elevator. And heard the disturbed-crackle of a radio-scanner. The elevator door closed and then a yell came from a laundry-room. A copious amount of yellow-liquid had been a-fire. The light flicker and smoke filled the hall, then the nurse’s station. Patrol was called-in, and the fire-truck entered the admittance-gate, as Dr. Peter left. The night went-on, and dawn came-over the horizon to shine placidly, into the hospital’s mirrored-windows. The night had been long, several of the staff had smoke-inhalation; and the patients awakened and moved to the empty ward being remodeled for the night, and for the foreseeable-future.
Dr. Peter was given the process of reassigning each client which he did without question. Dr. McBride had no problem attending to his duties... Though, he felt a ‘chill’ from the night before was a cool-Spring night. He had just seen his daughter off, he and his wife had a night-out. Dr. P.O. Was away, he’d taken a week out of his work profile. He’d rarely been off, with every process and procedure; he performed with his associate-beside him. P.O. Was not one to accuse, he’d seen people go to prison or given permanent sequester at a hospital by the slimmest of rules. The legal-judgment of ‘N.G.R.I.’, incurable psychosis is permanent-dementia and all the plots and ploys, which form dubitable-work for a man of competent-culture. In theory much was undecided by those, unknowing, could only trust and acknowledge. The theories, and thorough-investigation fell-on
Chief Wilcox, yet the least suspect was associate in-charge of 3-Units, from protocol to executive-provisions... The detectives-on the case felt it was only a prank, an odd-occurrence; which relatively, fell back on Head of security-Carsen P.C. Hospital. Like some-sort of refuting-collage, Dr. Peter was to be the inconspicuous, unsure-perpetrator.
...If he’d bought that before the Board, he’d be laughed into cordial-submission... A ‘devotee’ to the committee, just as an assistant-lead psychologist; he had worked-outside medical-adaptation while he affirmed in the outer-relying of its safety, duty and relative-decorum. An impacting-design, of a design and deliberation. Wilcox still was no clinician. He remained on the out-side fulfilling resolve of the typical side to the hospital’s preservation. This certain implicit, which was over-turned, by easily being professional decision. In fact all the decision-making came from hospital-Coventry. A very instance of professional and blue-collar work was always predicatively, ‘advantaged’ by hospital professional-staff. The declaration and resolution of what is the over-head instance of service-coordination. And nothing, could go-’over’ it. Whether impassive or imperceptive-things, needed to be exacted-by the head-board. Yet that was more, an availing-complicit. The worse, that could happen would be his-termination and that would mean an early-retirement...
His best decision would be to discover clues and evidence, and turn-it over to the legal-authorities. This was more complicated, than it seemed. He knew, if anything, time was of the essence. So his propriety was to stay close to things, before it got out of hand. And that meant putting a Chief’s high-alert without staff knowledge, acting on his own-provision. Dr. Peter, had been working that night. He’d called Dr. Doule, at his Villa in Florida-Everglades. ...’Been fishing, ole Chap, having a great-vacation...’ He seemed happy, and on the deep-side, Dr. Peter thought he was ‘better’-there. If anything, the bastard was having the time of his life. Dr. Peter respected his mentor of 15 years. Yet something, lately made him feel disappointed and dependent upon a long-winded, ‘dry’, ever evanescent-’proctor’ of an associate-Pavilion. He thought it was his-fault that he would settle the ‘score’. A score-of fallacy. Of men’s lives, being set by concordance; men of superior-means, adopting an ill-certainty in sophistication and ‘alms’. Determining, in driven-auspice, to intellect was subdividing-lives into ‘mutual‘-mitigation. P.O., was a man of academic-culture, of vantage and virtue; thriving-on overture and under-tow. Without, the taste-of remorse... Inundated, by excellence and exaction proving ‘folly’, and fabrication.
The way, he put his-energies into work, for Peter, was both exponent and expounding in the educated-pretense and now, he was empowered to be predictive, expurgate and devoid. So as he carried forward work, he felt in-austerity; in the many accolades-of life. A, be central-pro-licit, and disadvantage-reinforcing-priory and ‘agnostic’-propensity. The many, pre-insemination of joy, virtue and proving are enigmatic-adjuring. Both-used as motivation and aspiring, pretense in in-adverting cause. He-felt as he did when he was in college the ‘thematically’, fierce-intensities to prove the ‘gallant’-point, or reprove the advancing-recourse. The many ‘fanatic’ cause and in an imitable-provision... The duties, deeds and dedications illuminated by acts of deep-drive, accorded to diligence. It was all under-scored by lode, élan and lament... An advice-of propagation and inter-excision. Many colleagues, committees and advocates wondered why the perception was in the precepts-of ‘precipice’.
It was a chosen, perspective a point-of-view edging-from the innate to the extrusive... A variegate-relative. As when a life-crossed in what is a Seven-Year itch. Yet, it was not aired, at his closest-people in his life; yet, was it the re-combination of conditions that so far was ‘excellent‘. He-had examined and postulated, the many great-cultures of men who’d come before, from social-order to systematic-encumbering the individual, independent and innovations-accepted, achieved and overcome; some becoming by genius. Other systematic-deaths, and some long forgot, until recently. The ‘berg’ of men that lead their life in and outside social-limits, and self-gravity... He-studied them only in passing but also with inceptions of the personal-intellectual, self-reverberation in the ill-certain, revelation of, by the inside and ‘external’ revelation. The divorcing-element that in the long-scope of his field; atomized to infectious in-deeming. Yet men have faced inimitable times before. Was it better to be simply, in a contrived-existence. But was it necessary-imperils. A perilous-invention, and intervention. The un-skilled intention-of orient and in-volition by dire-division.
‘Division’ and despair was animate, in a way of inordinate people of history, times, ways and society. Of which it was the invasive, vice of mostly, predication. Perhaps, as he fell to the inane of his devotion his-enemies were broader-on a horizon. He was still only human. An appellation-owed and in-ventured, a truly being by thorough-surmounting. But nothing was a sure-thing. An improbable-imposition, yet still admission intending by genuine determination and drive. He was still a fine-doctor. But was an allowing, being made. Was there a dark-side to his latest-fortune in his back-ground. He could have went deeper, in the dimension, of self and superlative, that paid him more to accept and desist, being un-reinforced.
Could a man truly disprove, the cost of a virtuous case. It was 4:35 p.m., when the alarm of security-breach on the outer door near the back entry-way. No one but cargo-people sounds went-on there. Upon arrival, a bag was sitting there. Dr. Peter had entered the ward through the North entrance. He couldn’t wait to meet with Dr. Doule and the board, there would be changes. He felt an urgency, but knew he had to be consistent.
End.