A Medical Misadventure

The diagnosis makes malpractice seem benign by comparison.

The man on the bed stiffened and shook. His tongue protruded from his mouth obscenely as his eyes rolled like those of a terrified horse.

"It's happening again, Doctor!"

The EKG monitor remained strangely consistent, registering that the man's heartbeat was as even as if he were taking an afternoon nap instead trying to break his own back. Without waiting for the doctor's command, the nurse pressed the plunger of a syringe into the IV line, and the shaking stopped. The man's eyes closed, and he sank back into unconsciousness.

The nurse looked at Dr. Albescue with a puzzled, concerned expression. "Why aren't the anti-seizure drugs working, sir?"

Dr. Albescue looked at his nurse for several moments, seeming to consider something. He looked out the window at the clear night sky, then down on the brilliant white snow shining in the moonlight. He nodded to himself; then, in his thick East European accent, he motioned for her to follow him out of the room to the Doctors' lounge, abandoned at this late hour.

"But what if he—"

"He won't convulse again. Not yet. Trust me."

Nurse Linningham frowned.

"I am very familiar with his condition. Very familiar. In fact, I used to suffer from it myself, until I learned how to control it."

Nurse Linningham looked at the doctor in confusion. "What are you talking about? I've never seen you shake even a little. I don't—what kind of condition is this?"

When he smiled and stroked his goatee, it was not the warm smile with which she was accustomed, and his nails seemed much longer than she had ever seen them. "It is not a 'condition,' per se. What you saw, Ms. Linningham, was not the beginning of a seizure." He paused.

"It was the beginning of a transformation."



NOTES: ▼

Word Count: 300
Submitted for "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: Use the phrase "It's happening again"