What Am I?

Chapter 7

Dylan reached Dr. Frazer's clinic on the dot of 9:30 A.M.

"I must say you're very punctual Dylan."

"Well you see punctuality is the art of turning up earlier than the boss...well an art that I've just learnt. In my case your the boss because my future is in your hands, like literally."

Dr. Frazer, who held Dylan's files in his hand handed them to him. He said that Dylan's case was so interesting that it kept him up all night. He told Dylan not to say a word till he had finished saying what he had to.

" Ok. So I studied your file very well, the smallest of details, the biggest of things. So according to the files and the symptoms you're telling me, I'm 99% sure that this is a psychiatric illness. Don't freak out, just listen. The disorder is called Alien-hand Syndrome. I know it sounds funny, but it really is a thing.

It is a condition which involves your limbs, most commonly your left hand-which is your case- to seemingly behave on its own, without any control over its actions. The hand behaves like a separate entity; not part of the body, but the sensation in the hand is normal.

The affected person generally reaches for things and manipulates them, without wanting to do so, even to the point where the controllable hand has to restrain the uncontrollable one. Just like you unbuttoning your shirt in class. Your left hand wanted to do it, but your right hand was restricting it from doing it. Most of the time, the person doesn't realise until brought to their notice by someone.

It usually originates due to brain surgery, stroke, infection, tumor, certain degenerative brain conditions like Alzheimer disease. In your case, it was the accident you met with.

It damaged your frontal lobe. The frontal lobe is that part of the brain that can control our actions or simply referred as the motor area of the brain. As this part of the brain is affected, the symptoms of alien hand syndrome may be manifested. It involves people grabbing things without their will.

So, this is what you're suffering through."

The doctor could not help but feel sorry for Dylan looking at the completely bemused look on Dylan's face. It was as if he was in a trans. He got cold feet, drops of sweat came down the side of his head, he stayed quiet for enough time for the doctor to think he had passed out but hadn't been able to move because of the shock...which was partly true.

He shook up Dylan and offered him some water. The doctor didn't say anything till Dylan opened his mouth to say something.

"I'm I ever going to be normal?" asked Dylan, his hands shaking while keeping the glass on the table.

"A psychological disorder cannot be completely cured. Its symptoms can be reduced to the minimum. You'll always have the disorder, only it won't trouble you."

Dylan couldn't look the doctor in the eye while he was talking. There were fast moving pictures in his mind about breaking things, grabbing things without him knowing, hurting people, people that he loved.

The doctor wrote down a list of medications to reduce the symptoms. Then, almost like reading Dylan's mind, said that if he had proper control and attention over his hand, he would not hurt anybody.

He gave him a stress ball and told him to always keep it in his left hand so that his hand is occupied and cannot do anything else. He told Dylan to take the medicines on time and come for a check up the following week.

Dylan walked out of the clinic, trudging himself out and towards the car.

The entire ride home felt different, it felt longer; it felt distant. His biggest worry was him hurting someone or loosing his temper-which was very easy. The yellow of the morning became brighter and brighter as the sun became larger in size to suck the life out of the people.