led to the view that what I may call ‘natural sympathy’ is just as important – and effective – as erudition in the treatment of sickness. I believe this secret was known to our ancestors but has now been lost within the mighty precincts of our colleges and universities.
However, the mystery I find myself unable to penetrate is not the professional but the personal relationship between Bassett and Hatchjaw. It requires no particularly keen eye to detect signs of uncommon intimacy between them – deeper than that which might be expected to develop between persons who have stood in relation to each other merely as colleagues, for no matter how long. I believe there is some secret and powerful bond between these two, under whose constraints at times they submit, and at other times rebel. Their proximity appears to please and to distress them in equal measure.
Today, I thought I might be offered a clue to the mystery. As I escorted the newcomer to the dining hall, and mentioned that he should not expect to find intoxicating liquors on the premises, he said he was familiar with places like this, and used the words: ‘I am an old hand at this game’. Immediately I seized upon this. The man is clearly familiar with this kind of institution. Furthermore, he understands ‘the game’ well – all too well, his ironic manner seemed to imply. In that case, can he shed some light upon the strange behaviour of the two doctors towards each other? I determined to seek a confidential interview with him, and to conceal my intentions from any unwelcome observation under the pretext of showing him around the grounds (for we are observed constantly, both directly and indirectly, and our most private proceedings are known to the doctors by a means which I am at a loss to explain). However, he declined my offer. Something tells me that he knows more than he is prepared to reveal at present. I must be patient and careful. He may hold the answer to the riddle of the two doctors, even if he does not know it himself.
But an even greater mystery torments me, and I sense its malign influence pervading every corner of this enigmatic institution in a miasma of unease. Dare I hope that the newcomer will also be able to illuminate this other, more sinister question which has baffled my every attempt to penetrate it? Namely, who is the mysterious figure I have glimpsed, lurking at the edge of the grounds in the dusk, as the shadows lengthen, and whose face I have never yet seen? Even now my pulse quickens at the thought that the solution to this problem may be within my grasp.
Oh god oh fuck christ no no no no no
From the desk of Dr Hatchjaw.
Patient FJ
Residential Note 2.
FJ has begun orientation. The process is, of course, always unpredictable but I was hoping for a more managed contextualisation. The inevitable trauma associated with the process has been exacerbated for FJ by his chance encounter with patient PW. Unfortunately my Patient Background Report appears to be incomplete, and I was unaware that FJ was acquainted with PW. Perhaps I should have checked, but it’s easy to overlook this type of information when we are dealing with such a broad spectrum.
If FJ remains in his room for longer than 24 hours, I will employ the usual methods to enhance his socialisation. I hope to have him participate in the next Collective Encounter for Latent Group 3.
PS: Please also see memo that follows.
From the desk of Dr Hatchjaw.
Memo to Dr Bassett.
Eudora, I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed the sherry.
Wallace X
From the desk of Dr Bassett.
Memo to Dr Hatchjaw.
Wallace, I’m so sorry, it’s really my fault that your PBR on FJ was incomplete. I’ve been trying to get my head around this new data system and I’ve been putting all the patient background cross-referencing stuff to one side, hoping to incorporate it later. I think I’m going to have to get another assistant. And please don’t think I’m bringing this up in order to make some kind of point. We’ll just have to accept that this might be a delicate subject between us for a while, given what happened. But that’s all in the past, and now I genuinely need some help as I am hopeless at this kind of specialised administrative work. You’ve always been much better at it than me. And don’t for goodness sake think I’m implying you should be doing it. But please let’s discuss the possibility of getting some new help, and do so like two sensible, mature adults.
Regarding Patient FJ and your proposal to employ ‘the usual methods to enhance his socialisation’, can you please make sure that the water is at least warm? It’s positively cruel to use that thing with cold water. I’m sure you agree, but you sometimes forget.
Eudora
PS: I enjoyed the sherry very much too.
From the desk of Dr Hatchjaw.
Memo to Dr Bassett.
Eudora, thank you for your gracious apology but you really mustn’t blame yourself. These things happen. I completely agree that you should have a new assistant. I’ve been waiting for you to bring it up because I’ve felt that if I raised the topic you might think I was being insensitive. So, I’m pleased you’ve broached the subject. Purely as a matter of scientific interest, do you think that by mislaying (or failing to collate) information that you must have known, on some level, was important to me, you may perhaps have been punishing me subconsciously? I speak only as a psychologist, as I’m sure you understand.
Wallace
From the desk of Dr Bassett.
Memo to Dr Hatchjaw.
I beg to differ. You speak not as a psychologist but as a complete bastard. Can’t you leave it alone? Don’t you think I’ve suffered enough over everything that’s happened? I don’t know how you can behave like this, especially after the sherry last night. I should have known better.
From the desk of Dr Hatchjaw.
Memo to Dr Bassett.
Eudora, I assure you that I was making a strictly scientific enquiry as a matter of professional curiosity. I didn’t intend to hurt your feelings – which you claimed to have set aside with regard to me anyway. If, that is, they ever amounted to much in the first place. And since you brought it up, I have to say that you’re the one who’s behaving as if the sherry meant nothing. I’m afraid I can’t be so clinical about these things.
Wallace
From the desk of Dr Bassett.
Memo to Dr Hatchjaw.
Oh, just shut up, Wallace. Stop it.
Let’s just both take a deep breath and see if we can have a civilised discussion about the question of an assistant some time in the near future.
By the way, FJ appears to be having rather a tough time of it. I could hear him from my office. Still, I’m sure you’ve got it all under control.
Eudora
Patient FJ
Recovery Diary 3 (or 4)
I feel calm now. I should
