Дэвид Муди - Hater

‘Okay, Mr Pearson,’ he said through his green cloth facemask, ‘how are you feeling?’

‘Not too good,’ Pearson mumbled, too afraid to move. He tensed his body underneath the sheet and gown which covered him.

‘This won’t take too long,’ Dr Panesar explained, ignoring his patient’s nerves. ‘You’re the fourth vasectomy I’ve done today and none of them have lasted much longer than half an hour so far. We’ll have you out of here before you know it.’

Pearson didn’t respond. He was feeling faint. Maybe it was the heat in the theatre or was it just the thought of what was about to happen that was making him feel like this? Was this normal? Was he having a reaction to the anaesthetic they’d used to numb the feeling in his balls?

‘I don’t feel…’ he tried to say to the female nurse who stood next to him, holding onto his arm. She looked down and, seeing that he was struggling, slipped an oxygen mask over his face.

‘You’ll be fine,’ she soothed. ‘Have a bit of air and try and think about something else.’

Pearson tried to answer but his words were muffled under the mask. How can I think about something else when someone’s about to cut into my balls?

‘Do you follow cricket?’ an older male nurse on his other side asked. Pearson nodded. ‘Have you seen the tour report today? We’re not doing too badly by all accounts.’

The oxygen was beginning to take the edge off his nausea. That’s better. Starting to feel more relaxed now…

‘Okay, Mr Pearson,’ Dr Panesar said brightly, looking up from the area of the operation. ‘We’re ready to start now. I explained what I’m going to do in clinic, didn’t I? This is a very small procedure. I’ll just be making two incisions, one on either side of your scrotum, okay?’

Pearson nodded. I don’t want to know what you’re doing, he thought, just bloody well get on with it.

‘You feeling a bit better now?’ the female nurse asked, gently stroking the back of his hand. He nodded again and she removed the oxygen mask. He could feel the surgeon working now. Although his genitals were anaesthetised, he could still feel movement around his legs and occasionally someone brushed against the tips of his toes sticking out over the end of the operating table. More nausea. He was starting to feel sick again. Christ, think of something to take your mind off this, he silently screamed to himself. He tried to fill his head with images and thoughts — the children, his wife Emily, the holiday they’d booked for a few weeks time, the new car he’d picked up last week… anything. As hard as he tried he still couldn’t forget the fact that someone was cutting into his scrotum with a scalpel.

Is this how I’m supposed to feel, Pearson thought? I’m cold. I don’t feel right. Should it be like this or is something going wrong?

‘Don’t feel right…’ he mumbled. The nurse looked down and slammed the oxygen mask on his face again. The sudden movement made Dr Panesar look up.

‘Everything okay up there?’ he asked, his voice artificially bright and animated. ‘You all right Mr Pearson?’

‘He’s fine,’ the nurse replied, her voice equally artificially trouble-free, ‘a little light-headed, that’s all.’

‘Nothing to worry about,’ the surgeon said as he took a step around the edge of the table and looked into his patient’s face. Pearson’s wide, frightened eyes were dancing around the room, squinting into the bright lights which shone down over his prone body. Dr Panesar stopped and stared at him.

‘Dr Panesar?’ the nurse asked.

Nothing.

‘Is everything all right, Dr Panesar?’

Panesar stumbled back to the other end of the table, his eyes still fixed on Pearson’s face.

‘You okay, Dr Panesar?’ his surgical assistant asked. No response. ‘Dr Panesar,’ he asked again, ‘are you okay?’

Panesar turned to look at his colleague and then tightened the grip on the scalpel in his hand. Crouching back down again he slashed across Pearson’s exposed genitals and severed his testicles and scrotal sac. Blood began to spill and spurt over the operating table from sliced veins and arteries.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ the surgical assistant demanded. He pushed Panesar out of the way and moved to grab his hand and wrestle the scalpel from him. Delirious with fear, Panesar turned and sliced the man with the blade, cutting him open in a diagonal line down from his right shoulder.

Panic erupted in the operating theatre. The staff scattered as the surgeon lunged towards them. Pearson lay helplessly on the operating table, turning his head desperately from side to side, trying to see what was happening around him. Covered in blood and still brandishing the scalpel Panesar fled from the room. Pearson watched him run. What the hell was going on? Christ, he suddenly felt strange. He felt cold and shaky but his legs felt warm. And why were people panicking? Why all the sudden movement? Why had the nurses gone to the other end of the table and where was all that blood coming from?

Still anaesthetised and oblivious and ignorant both to the pandemonium which was rapidly spreading through the private hospital and the fact that he was rapidly bleeding to death, Pearson looked up into the light and tried to think of anything but the fact that his surgeon had just disappeared in the middle of his vasectomy.

12

There’s a strange atmosphere everywhere today. Everyone seems to be on edge. No-one seems certain about anything anymore. Everybody seems to be thinking twice about everything they do and worrying more than normal about what everyone else is doing. Our ordinary lives and the day to day routine suddenly feel more complicated than they did before and yet I’m still not even sure if anything’s actually changed.

I had a phone call from Lizzie just after I’d been out for my lunch break today. We had an appointment to take Josh for a hospital check-up this afternoon and, with everything that happened at school yesterday, we’d both forgotten about it. He fell off a chair at playgroup three weeks ago and cut his head open. The appointment was just to make sure that everything had healed properly and that he was fit and well. Lizzie had also forgotten to tell Harry that school was closed. He arrived on the doorstep at eight this morning expecting to be looking after Josh as usual. Liz arranged for him to drive her and Josh into town, then take Ellis and Ed back home. I said I’d meet them at the hospital and we’d travel home together after he’d seen the doctor. I managed to convince Tina Murray that I needed to be at the appointment too. For once she bought my story without putting up much of a fight.

Despite trying to make a quick getaway I was later getting away from the office than I should have been (I stopped to chat to someone) and it’s taken me ages to get across town. Josh’s appointment was at three o’clock — three-quarters of an hour ago. Still, hospitals are always behind and with everything that’s going on there’s bound to be more delays than usual today. I bet he hasn’t even gone in to see the doctor yet. I walk quickly down the sloping path which cuts through the car park. The hospital looks busy. The afternoon is dull and dark and bright yellow light shines out from the building’s countless windows. It’s a bloody grim place. I wouldn’t want to have to stay here for…

‘Danny!’

Who the hell was that? I turn around and see Lizzie walking towards me with Josh in his pushchair.

‘You okay?’ I ask, confused.

‘Where’ve you been?’

‘I couldn’t get here any earlier,’ I answer, lying through my teeth. ‘Have you only just got here?’

She shakes her head.

‘You’re joking, aren’t you? We’ve already been in.’