The Quest For Perfection (Is A Damn Fine Thing)

Part I: The Strangeness of Fredrick Street - Chapter 9

9

Mark Fleming strolled down the corridors of the St. Vincent Memorial Hospital with a skip in his stride. He'd had a stellar morning, with a successful liver transplant already under his belt, no paperwork or unread e-mails piling up on his desk or his inbox and a baby scan with Kim to look forward too. The rate he was going at, he could probably even squeeze in enough time for a nap but he thought he best not push it. He didn't want to late for the scan and besides, if Kim found out he had napped without inviting her to join in the siesta, his life wouldn't even be worth living. Still rolling down the hospital hallway, shimmying past the odd gurney going at break neck speed or crash cart being thrown between nurses, he watched as all this life-saving activity roared throughout the hospital. At times like this, being surrounded by so much potential death and horror, Mark never felt so alive. As he skipped out of the way of another gurney, this one hosting a patient with a heavy blood flow from the head, he entered his office thinking how lucky he was; how they all were. The hospital had a fantastic surgical success rate and the lowest mortality rate in the country - 0 deaths from surgery in the entire time Mark Fleming had started working as a doctor here and every person who crashed through those hospital doors in immediate need of medical care was saved. Mark didn't take all the credit, but he knew for one thing though, any first day doubts he had about taking on the job, as Head of General Surgery were completely unfounded. He had a 100% surgical success rate, which had the earned him a lot of fans and admirers throughout the hospital, not to mention the country. He was treated like a hero and he was loving it.

Sitting down at his desk, he had about 30 minutes to grab some lunch before his scan with Kim. Pulling out the brown paper bag she had packed his lunch in, (crunchy peanut butter with some raspberry conserve, a banana for snacking and – his one luxury item – a can of soda) he sat back in his chair, looking out onto the view his office offered of the city skyline and began to relax. Growing up, when he first decided he wanted to enter the world of medicine, he never thought he'd have the work-life balance that he currently had. It was deemed impossible by his lecturers, mentors and even his friends. But nothing was impossible for Dr. Mark Fleming. Not one thing. Finishing up his lunch, he turned back to the neat pile of files on his desk and noticed the mail from earlier. He had some time on his hands which meant he could go through these now, pay his bills, read any fan mail (admittedly a weird thing for doctors to receive but he was a celebrity in these parts) and save whatever endangered animal he was asked to save. As he had predicted, it was bill after bill after bill (a few new offers which would save them a pretty penny which he filed for later) and a few letters from the families of patients he had operated on and got back on their feet. The last letter in the pile however, was a strange one. He recognized the scrawl on the front of the envelope almost immediately as his own. Although he had no idea why he would be sending himself a letter. There was no earthly reason for it. It was something he used to do in the past, when he was so busy studying or chasing his medical license that if there was a pressing matter (even a reminder of Kim's birthday or his parents anniversary) he would send himself a little letter to remind him. But since striking the perfect work life balance, he had absolutely no need to do this. And he couldn't recall doing so since his student years. An uneasy feeling started to cloud the room, something that Mark wasn't used too and propelled him towards door, closing it quietly. Holding the envelope somewhat gingerly in his hand, he felt his heart start to race, the sweat from his hands cascading into the letter and almost opening it with the moisture. Sitting back down at his desk, Mark stared at the envelope. The strangest feeling was coming over him, like he knew what was inside the letter and didn't want to open it. The strangest feeling of dread and fear was coursing through him, pumping blood through his body so fast it felt like he'd run a marathon from a sitting position. He had the strangest feeling that whatever the words in this letter said, it would change his life forever, and he didn't want to open it. But he had too. Curiosity would kill him eventually, even if what was inside the letter didn't. Having a quiet word with himself to get a grip, he tore open the letter and read.