Page 169 - The Grotesque Children's Book

“Me, sooner than the rest of us, I fear.” Santi told the doctor the medical tragedies
surrounding his home and wondered whether the doctor might suggest a remedy or measure he
hadn't yet tried with his father.

The doctor asked Santi a series of questions, scratching down notes and observations as
he spoke. Was there coughing? Yes. Was there a loosening of the spittle? No, a firming if
anything. Color of the urine? Haven’t looked. Were there pustules on the lips and in the
mouth? No. A yellowing of the skin? Yes? a pulling back of the lips, like a grin? Why yes,
both his mother and his wife. Was there a cure the doctor could tell him? Bloodletting?

“Dear boy.” The doctor shook his head. “Bloodletting. Mnnn. I fear more patients have
died from bloodletting than from the diseases they have contracted.” Santi's face grew pale and
tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. “Now, now,” said the doctor, laying a hand on the boy's
shoulder, “It may not be too late, it may not be too late. But we must try to treat the blood, not
drain it. If there's something foul in it, then we must find out what it is, and give your body
strength to battle it. We must strengthen your blood, not weaken it! But first things first. Bring
me a sample of your father's blood, can you? And I run some chemical analysis on it to see
whether it is lacking some essential element or whether some element is in too much
abundance.”

“And then you'll give me a potion for my father?”

“I won't give him a potion, no.”

Santi drooped and stood up. “I didn't expect you would. Well, I thank you for your --”

“I'll give him some medicine. That's what I'll give him. Not a potion. Not some
alchemical hummery-flummery out of some book riddled in symbols and mystic words, but
science, my boy! I'll give your father some prescribed medicines which have been scientifically
proven, on a statistical and repeatable basis, to have a beneficial effect on symptoms more often
than a detrimental. How does that sound?”

“How does that sound? To be honest, merely like a different kind of hummery-
flummery.” Valerius laughed, tipping his head in acknowledgement as Santi continued, “But
seeing as nothing else has succeeded, I am desperate to try something different. Anything.”

“Well, now I would caution you not to go too far, Santi. If you and your father go around
trying too many Somethings and Anythings all at once, mathematically you will serve up
combination I haven't tested yet, surely, and there's some percentage probability that you'll
accidentally happen upon a cure, but there's a greater possibility you'll stir up some concoction
which turns out to be lethal, with your father dead in the morning. Which, I presume,” the doctor
concluded, “is the very outcome you are actually hoping to avoid. It's about chemicals and
minerals in your father's body. Your description leads me to believe that they have grown out of
balance. We need to restore the balance of the chemicals and minerals. It might turn out to be
just that simple. So! Tomorrow, bring me a sample of your father's urine, will you?” asked the
doctor, handing Santi a round vial with a cork. “And no more Astragalus, now, promise?”

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