The Greatest Mind I Ever Knew

Chapter 38: Angels

Fortunately Lotan didn't need a hospital that day, but he did very soon.
               You see, by the next week The Sickness had spread from his mind to his chest, so that on Wednesday he couldn't so much as lift himself out of bed. His hands tapped and fisted themselves constantly, aching for a piano, but he physically couldn't make himself play it anymore. His legs turned weak. His head became too heavy for his shoulders. His life became utterly, entirely dismal.
               He may have been stuck to his bed, but Lotan still didn't rest - despite my best efforts. I made him soups he couldn't stomach, I tried to make him comfortable, and I made myself available to him constantly, but he only writhed around on our bed in unending pain, moaning in French about the music he could hear. He could barely hold a conversation with me in English for more than two minutes - let alone play with Joshua, or read a book or do any of the things that used to make him happy!
               He assured me he'd be fine again soon, but after two days of watching him struggle to lift a glass of water to his lips, I had to bring another doctor out to see him. He begged me not to. He said they'd make him take pills or inject him with big needles, or take him into hospital against his will. Of course the idea of any of those things being forced on my husband made me want to cry, but for his sake I tried to be strong. I had to be strict, and tough, or else watch my perfect man fade before my very eyes.
               Before phoning the doctor I remember calling my mother in a total state, desperate for advice. Hers was: 'People in pain rarely know what will help them feel better, bambina. Think about yourself for a moment. When you have period cramps I know you fold yourself up into all sorts of weird, tense positions to try to ease the pain, before simply giving in and taking some paracetamol! Isn't that true? Now, if I saw you in pain and gave you some paracetamol, you might think you don't need it at first, but you'd be grateful to me as soon as it kicked in. That's what Lotan needs right now! He needs someone to give him that magic pill so he can stop feeling this pain - and remember how much healthier he can feel.'
               That made a whole lot of sense to me. So the next morning I was greeting our GP at the front door and walking her through the house, telling her,
'He's not been himself for so long now. He's never had a big appetite, and he's struggled to sleep as long as I've known him, but, things have really got out of hand over the last few months. He's so skinny now, and he's exhausted all the time. He can't keep anything down, he's irritable, he smashed up his car last week because he couldn't concentrate properly -'
'Oh, I read about that online.' the doctor said. 'Looked like a pretty nasty crash.'
'It was.' I said sadly, glancing out the landing window at the empty spot on our driveway where Lotan's sports car used to be. 'I, I-I'm so worried about him, doc. He can't even sit up today! I thought about taking him to A&E but I don't know how I'd get him there. - He keeps insisting he's fine.'
'Many sick people do.' the suited woman said sympathetically. 'Not just the men, either. Nobody wants to admit they're suffering as much as they are.'
               I groaned my agreement.
'I just wish he'd eat something, you know? Or sleep, even for an hour. I don't know what's stopping him!'
'There could be a hundred and one reasons, Mrs Dufont. I'll try my best to find the right one for you.'
               I breathed out a sigh so big it could have blown up a balloon and burst it.
'Thank you.'
               But once we'd walked up to the master bedroom and the doctor had spent an hour with Lotan, running tests and asking him questions and taking samples, she could still see nothing physically wrong with the man. I could have cried at the end of her visit, when I walked her back out onto the gravel driveway and she said, 'I'm so sorry, Mrs Dufont. He should be in perfect shape! But I have some samples and I should have all my test results by Monday. I'll phone Mr Dufont then to let you know what I find. In the meantime, in case his sickness is entirely psychological, I suggest you find him someone to talk to. - A professional. Here's a leaflet with some names and numbers.'
'He's already got two counsellors.' I told her solemnly, accepting the leaflet anyway.
'Oh. Well, that's good. Maybe they'll do house calls too?'
               I nodded weakly, then thanked her and watched her drive away.