Dr. Madison Laid Up
Dr. Madison Recovers at Berkshire Medical Center, Pittsfield, MA - - April 1981
April 20, 1981
The television rambled on in the background of the hospital room in which Dr. Madison lay in the bed:
“In national news, in the continuing tumult and chaos since the assassination of President Reagan last month, it seems Alexander Haig is now, former Secretary of State Haig, having officially turned in his resignation to former National Security Advisor and now Vice President Richard Allen after a spat reportedly arose between the two in the hours after President Reagan’s assassination during which Haig was perceived to have usurped Allen’s role during crises management.
Former CIA Director and Vice President George H.W. Bush has now, accordingly, assumed control of the highest office . . .”
“We can change that for you if you’d like” the pleasant voice of the middle-aged female nurse gently interrupts Dr. Madison’s focus.
They just put in one of those new high-frequency broadcast antennas out back - - she points out the window to where Dr. Madison can see the monstrous tangled metal tower extending from the top of the neighboring hospital building towards the heavens - - he’d heard about them, apparently over one hundred channels were now available with those things . . .
“and, in local news, the identity of the deceased victim of an accidental gas explosion that destroyed a home in the town of Bennington Vermont three weeks ago was confirmed, as that of the homeowner . . .”
[The loud ringing of the bell of the hospital room phone]
“Oh, well I’ll leave you alone, it seems you have people looking after you.” The nurse pleasantly smiles leaving the room.
“Dr. Enki Madison?” [the lethargic, guttural voice on the phone]
“Yes, I’m calling on behalf of the Oscillate chapter at the Masonic Lodge at 433 West 88th Street . . . we’re calling about this month’s payment. You do remember your contract, don’t you? Yes, don’t worry about anything Dr. Madison . . . it’s being brought to your room now . . .”
For a moment, Dr. Madison feels the nerves and anxiety welling up in his chest, what had he done!? Were these people after him!?
Relief . . . and a long exhale . . . just the nurse “oh, I’m sorry Dr. Madison, I almost forgot, someone stopped by and left this for you” passing him a long black cardboard box just narrower than a shoebox.
After the nurse stepped back out, Dr. Madison slowly opened the box still propping the phone between his shoulder and ear . . . a fine glass bottle full of a liquid of slight greenish hue. Absinthe.
“That is still your drink isn’t it, Doctor?” the voice continues from the phone.
Who were these people? Were they watching him?
“You owe us Doctor Madison, every, last, drop . . . you’ll imbibe. And, we promise, it will be more expensive if you do not . . . but, don’t fear us doctor, we want to help you . . . surely you still want the profits from your book, don’t you?
Don’t worry doctor, the ticket to your profits is at the reception desk when you are ready to check out. We didn’t know how much of a Celtics fan you were, but the seats are top notch, game 5, Tuesday night, May 12th . . . attend doctor, and redeem what’s yours.”
The Atmosphere in the Hospital Room
