An Ounce of Cure

The doctor's office was shiny and modern. Behind the desk the doctorsmiled down at James Wheatley through thick glasses. "Now, then! Whatseems to be the trouble?"

Wheatley had been palpitating for five days straight at the prospect ofcoming here. "I know it's silly, " he said. "But I've been having a painin my toe. "

"Indeed!" said the doctor. "Well, now! How long have you had this pain, my man?"

"About six months now, I'd say. Just now and then, you know. It's neverreally been bad. Until last week. You see--"

"I see, " said the doctor. "Getting worse all the time, you say. "

Wheatley wiggled the painful toe reflectively. "Well--you might saythat. You see, when I first--"

"How old did you say you were, Mr. Wheatley?"

"Fifty-five. "

"Fifty-_five_!" The doctor leafed through the medical record on hisdesk. "But this is incredible. You haven't had a checkup in almost tenyears!"

"I guess I haven't, " said Wheatley, apologetically. "I'd been feelingpretty well until--"

"_Feeling_ well!" The doctor stared in horror. "But my dear fellow, nocheckup since January 1963! We aren't in the Middle Ages, you know. Thisis 1972. "

"Well, of course--"

"Of course you may be _feeling_ well enough, but that doesn't meaneverything is just the way it should be. And now, you see, you're havingpains in your toes!"

"One toe, " said Wheatley. "The little one on the right. It seemed tome--"

"One toe _today_, perhaps, " said the doctor heavily. "But _tomorrow_--"He heaved a sigh. "How about your breathing lately? Been growing shortof breath when you hurry upstairs?"

"Well--I _have_ been bothered a little. "

"I thought so! Heart pound when you run for the subway? Feel tired allday? Pains in your calves when you walk fast?"

"Uh--yes, occasionally, I--" Wheatley looked worried and rubbed his toeon the chair leg. 

"You know that fifty-five is a dangerous age, " said the doctor gravely. "Do you have a cough? Heartburn after dinner? Prop up on pillows atnight? Just as I thought! And no checkup for ten years!" He sighedagain. 

"I suppose I should have seen to it, " Wheatley admitted. "But you see, it's just that my toe--"

"My dear fellow! Your toe is _part_ of you. It doesn't just exist downthere all by itself. If your _toe_ hurts, there must be a _reason_. "

Wheatley looked more worried than ever. "There must? I thought--perhapsyou could just give me a little something--"

"To stop the pain?" The doctor looked shocked. "Well, of course I could_do_ that, but that's not getting at the root of the trouble, is it?That's just treating symptoms. Medieval quackery. Medicine has advanceda long way since your last checkup, my friend. And even treatment hasits dangers. Did you know that more people died last year of _aspirin_poisoning than of _cyanide_ poisoning?"

Wheatley wiped his forehead. "I--dear me! I never realized--"

"We have to _think_ about those things, " said the doctor. "Now, theproblem here is to find out _why_ you have the pain in your toe. Itcould be inflammatory. Maybe a tumor. Perhaps it could be, uh, functional ... Or maybe vascular!"

"Perhaps you could take my blood pressure, or something, " Wheatleyoffered. 

"Well, of course I _could_. But that isn't really my field, you know. Itwouldn't really _mean_ anything, if I did it. But there's nothing toworry about. We have a fine Hypertensive man at the Diagnostic Clinic. "The doctor checked the appointment book on his desk. "Now, if we couldsee you there next Monday morning at nine--"

 * * * * *

"Very interesting X rays, " said the young doctor with the red hair. "_Very_ interesting. See this shadow in the duodenal cap? See theprolonged emptying time? And I've never seen such beautifulpylorospasm!"

"This is my toe?" asked Wheatley, edging toward the doctors. It seemedhe had been waiting for a very long time. 

"Toe! Oh, no, " said the red-headed doctor. "No, that's the OrthopedicRadiologist's job. I'm a Gastro-Intestinal man, myself. Upper. Dr. Schultz here is Lower. " The red-headed doctor turned back to hisconsultation with Dr. Schultz. Mr. Wheatley rubbed his toe and waited. 

Presently another doctor came by. He looked very grave as he sat downbeside Wheatley. "Tell me, Mr. Wheatley, have you had an orthodiagramrecently?"

"No. "

"An EKG?"

"No. "

"Fluoroaortogram?"

"I--don't _think_ so. "

The doctor looked even graver, and walked away, muttering to himself. Ina few moments he came back with two more doctors. "--no question in _my_mind that it's cardiomegaly, " he was saying, "but Haddonfield shouldknow. He's the best Left Ventricle man in the city. Excellent paper inthe AMA Journal last July: 'The Inadequacies of Modern OrthodiagramaticTechniques in Demonstrating Minimal Left Ventricular Hypertrophy. ' Abrilliant study, simply brilliant! Now _this_ patient--" He glancedtoward Wheatley, and his voice dropped to a mumble. 

Presently two of the men nodded, and one walked over to Wheatley, cautiously, as though afraid he might suddenly vanish. "Now, there'snothing to be worried about, Mr. Wheatley, " he said. "We're going tohave you fixed up in just no time at all. Just a few more studies. Now, if you could see me in Valve Clinic tomorrow afternoon at three--"

Wheatley nodded. "Nothing serious, I hope?"

"Serious? Oh, no! Dear me, you _mustn't_ worry. Everything is going tobe all right, " the doctor said. 

"Well--I--that is, my toe is still bothering me some. It's not nearly asbad, but I wondered if maybe you--"

Dawn broke on the doctor's face. "Give you something for it? Well now, we aren't Therapeutic men, you understand. Always best to let the experthandle the problem in his own field. " He paused, stroking his chin for amoment. "Tell you what we'll do. Dr. Epstein is one of the finestTherapeutic men in the city. He could take care of you in a jiffy. We'llsee if we can't arrange an appointment with him after you've seen metomorrow. "

Mr. Wheatley was late to Mitral Valve Clinic the next day because he hadgone to Aortic Valve Clinic by mistake, but finally he found the rightwaiting room. A few hours later he was being thumped, photographed, andlistened to. Substances were popped into his right arm, and withdrawnfrom his left arm as he marveled at the brilliance of modern medicaltechniques. Before they were finished he had been seen by both theMitral men and the Aortic men, as well as the Great Arteries man and thePeripheral Capillary Bed man. 

The Therapeutic man happened to be in Atlantic City at a convention andthe Rheumatologist was on vacation, so Wheatley was sent to FunctionalClinic instead. "Always have to rule out these things, " the doctorsagreed. "Wouldn't do much good to give you medicine if your troubleisn't organic, now, would it?" The Psychoneuroticist studied his sexlife, while the Psychosociologist examined his social milieu. Then theyconferred for a long time. 

Three days later he was waiting in the hallway downstairs again. Headsmet in a huddle; words and phrases slipped out from time to time as thediscussion grew heated. 

"--no doubt in my mind that it's a--"

"But we can't ignore the endocrine implications, doctor--"

"You're perfectly right there, of course. Bittenbender at the Universitymight be able to answer the question. No better PituitaryOsmoreceptorologist in the city--"

"--a Tubular Function man should look at those kidneys first. He'sfifty-five, you know. "

"--has anyone studied his filtration fraction?"

"--might be a peripheral vascular spasticity factor--"

After a while James Wheatley rose from the bench and slipped out thedoor, limping slightly as he went. 

 * * * * *

The room was small and dusky, with heavy Turkish drapes obscuring thedark hallway beyond. A suggestion of incense hung in the air. 

In due course a gaunt, swarthy man in mustache and turban appearedthrough the curtains and bowed solemnly. "You come with a problem?" heasked, in a slight accent. 

"As a matter of fact, yes, " James Wheatley said hesitantly. "You see, I've been having a pain in my right little toe.... "