Dupuytren #3

 

 

Finally ... Saint Anley attends the Out-Patient department of his local hospital.

The consultant arrives ... late.

He looks ever so young!

 

He shakes St. Anley’s good hand very firmly as he introduces himself.

•  “So, you’ve got Dupuytren’s disease!” he announces ecstatically.
• “Show me ...”

St. Anley extends his left hand - all except the little finger which remains stubbornly in flexion.

Surgeon gently takes the deformed hand in his own, prods, pokes, pulls and measures things with a protractor.

• “That’s quite advanced."
• "With that degree of deformity, you could qualify to become a Freemason.”

(St. Anley begins to wonder anxiously, “Is this an invitation?”)

• “Now, what do you know about this condition?” he enquires.

St. Anley impresses the consultant with the fruits of his recent research:

• “I know that Baron Guillaume Dupuytren is said to have treated Napoleon’s piles.”
• “Well, I never! I didn’t know that!” says the surgeon.

St. Anley then confides about his previous occupation within the medical profession.

(That was before he became a bicycle maintenance person, tender of live-stock or purveyor of incandescence.)

• “So, you’ll know all about it, then,” says Doctor. 

(Actually, St. Anley knows just a bit about lubricating bicycles. He has rudimentary experience of chicken farming. He knows all about the wholesale price of incandescent light bulbs. His recall of the history of the London & South Western Railway is encyclopedic. However, all he knows about Dupuytren’s contracture is that it is that he’s got it. It is often hereditary, that it’s vigorously progressive, can recur after treatment. The association with consumption of gin-and-tonic is purely anecdotal, and it has nothing to do with haemorrhoids.)

•  “ … and what does it stop you doing?” asks Doctor. 

Here, St. Anley has to admit that he is an amateur musician who plays a number of instruments rather badly.

• “What instruments?"

St. Anley includes in the list a mandocello and a bowed psaltery.“I have never heard of those,” says the consultant.

There follows a lengthy dissertation on the mandolin-family of instruments.

The bowed psaltery is impossible to describe in words alone.

The consultant seems to be utterly engaged.

This takes a very long time.

• “Would you like to hear about my collection of stamps from Papua New Guinea?” asks the doctor.
• “Oh, yes.” replies St. Anley with feigned enthusiasm, “I’ve been there.”
• “Did you know that the German colonists constructed a railway there late in the 19^th century?”
• “Oh, tell me more …”

... and this prolonged, competitive exchange of inconsequential trivia becomes somewhat tedious. 

• “So, what about my hand?” enquires St. Anley, patiently.
• “Oh, yes, I almost forgot! We’ll get you in for surgery: day-case, regional anaesthesia; you know what I mean… OK?”
• "My secretary will contact you."

(St. Anley imagines that said secretary is named Tracey!)

• “When?”
• “When I can find the time!” responds the consultant.
• “Good afternoon. I’ll see you next on the operating table.”

As he departs St. Anley sheepishly asks, “Will I be able to play my mandocello?”

• “NOT WHILE I’M OPERATING!”