11th July, noon; Erasistratus and Herophilus

The pattering of the rain outside could be heard within the sickbay which sat dull and quiet, apart from the occasional cough from one of the cots and the surgeon’s slow turning of a page as he sat to one side of the room. The beds were less full and those that were occupied the men within them lay flitting in and out of sleep. After having dealt with one particular patient who had been in post-operation pains, Russell had sat himself down to read more on the medical masters of antiquity, finding them to be the best occupants of his short-lived free-time as of late.

Kock moved through the corridors within the ship, he felt his stomach grow green as his body swayed and hit one wall and then another, he was thankful that the tea did not spill and the food did not fall onto the ground – he was not quite so fond of Russell, yet one side of him was (it was a strange love and hatred towards the man), so if food had indeed fell then he would have picked it up and pretended as though nothing happened. He would have been sweating bullets and stammering more than he already did due to guilt, pray more than he ought to God, but at least he would not have the same of owning up to his actions. But that did not happen as instead everything was ridiculously smooth. Kock knocked on the door and then let himself in when there was no response.

“S-s-s-sir,” he managed to spit out, “I-I mean d-doctor; your lunch.” The smaller and younger man frightened him and somehow his stammering became worse when he was in the presence of the doctor. Tears from the mere thought began to form but he tried to fight them back. Damn my sensitivities, thought the cook to himself as he stood there awkwardly waiting for the other man to address him.

Russell was completely oblivious to the fact that Kock was frightened of him and to be quite honest, he was surprised to see him enter the sickbay rather than his cook’s mate whilst carrying a tray for lunch. Snapping his book shut with the page numbers memorised in mind, the first words that came from his lips (which might have seemed rude given that he neither thanked Kock nor paused to appreciate that he was bringing him food) was: “where is the bread for my patients?”

Kock stood there suddenly feeling put on the spot – as though the patients in the room were all looking at him and judging him as a ‘dull-minded’ fellow, he began shaking and he tried to formulate the words in which he was going to say in his head; however, when he did speak, all the escaped his lips was: “A-a-a-a-a,” and nothing more. The tall and plump cook began looking all over the place for an area to set down the doctor’s plate and he did so. “S-shall I return with them, sir?” he questioned, eyes downcast. If one thing was for certain, he would cry himself silly before returning with the patients’ bread.

“No,” Russell answered almost immediately, finding the convenience of Kock the Cook’s arrival beneficial for both himself and the man, “call for someone to bring the lot. There’s a matter that I wish to discuss.” In his own mind he felt rather charitable in saving the cook from a second trip and the harsh labours of carrying a small amount of bread from the kitchens to the sickbay. As a result, he found himself to be a saint of sorts in Kock’s eyes and with the delusional notion his increasing confidence allowed him to proceed with his next set of questions. “You have previously mentioned that you do not know the cause of your migraines and I feel that I must investigate its cause much further. After all, thus far, we have treated the symptoms only.”

Wilfred nodded, he would call for someone after the doctor discussed whatever he wished to discuss. He nodded again as the younger man spoke, it was true that they had only tried to suppress his pain and never investigate its causes. Kock worried more about his ability to communicate with others, his stammering versus his head-pains – one caused more stares than the other, one people noticed more. “Doctor,” Wilfred said, becoming a little more acquainted with the room and situation (his shyness of entering a new situation was drained away; he would gain uncomfortable feelings from other things now). “I know w-what troubles my head, I get the pains when there are too many in a small space, when there are loud noises, and other times when there is too much light.” It was truly as simple as that, he wondered if there was anything more to investigate? “B-but whatever do you suggest we do?” he asked, wondering whilst fidgeting like an overgrown child with his fingers.

“First, my dear friend, we will discuss your predicament further. You will relay the facts in greater detail than previously in order to see if anything can be revealed. Perhaps we can fully come to a medical discovery,” he answered, settling his book to the side, imprinted in golden lettering were the words: Medicine of Antiquity, as stood to his feet. It was important to have his patients with reoccurring health predicaments visit him every so often and for Kock, this would be one of those many meetings. Beyond his concern for his welfare, it would not be difficult to realise that with the declining numbers of patients, Russell was becoming bored of free-time and thus saw the cook as an opportunity to do something productive: to see what contributions he could make to the medical field in discovering more of his frequent headaches.

“Please sit,” he gestured to the seat, “I do not suspect that in the past, doctors had resorted to blood-letting and in giving you a healthy food regimen. Those, I have found, are useless techniques, you must already know that you are in learned hands. I may respect the Greek masters but I criticise the idea of humoural balances.”

Kock nodded as the other man spoke, he was not quite following him – the other man might have well been speaking in riddles at this point – but he pretended as though he knew exactly what he was saying, it would not do him any good if he suddenly asked questions. It would make him look like a fool! He did not want to look like a fool, it was always best to pretend. Kock had already said everything to do with ‘facts’, if by facts the doctors meant his pains and issues. Kock knew at once, after sitting down, what the doctor was talking about – Greek medicine, which was not unknown to the man. Kock himself had gone to school and to university; he had been brilliant in the subjects of arithmetic, chemistry, biology, and the likes… of course, until he became older and learned that his passions lay elsewhere.

“Ah,” he cried, forgetting his shyness, “the humours! Yes the four basic substances of the human body – yellow bile, black bile, green bile, and… red bile! And what would you propose we look at if we ignore the Hippocratic teachings?” His time with Greek medicine had long since passed but now he was not so afraid of Doctor Gallien; he found that he actually understood what he was saying – nothing going through one ear and out the other.

Russell chortled in a rather condescending manner upon hearing a cook talk of medicine; it was a rather endearing attempt which made him like Kock all the more and confirmed, in his own mind, how knowledgeable he was of his trade. “My dear man, we will not ignore them but we shall experiment a little. I was reading a little Erasistratus and thought rather than simply treating the symptoms, we will delve deeper. Now, allow me,” the doctor marched towards the man and pressed his fingers on his frontal lobe, scrutinising his head beneath his horribly cracked spectacles, which he had accidentally sat on the day prior. “Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? Where precisely on your head do these pains come from?”

“Yes, let’s start from the beginning,” said Kock, licking his lips. “My pains are here…” he said setting his hand on the right side of his head closest to his ear lobe. “The pain is so incredible –it feels as though something is growing and trying to destroy my skull just so it comes out. Right here, the pain is right here.” He then looked at the doctor expectantly wondering what on earth he wanted to do, he could not see how knowing where the pain was would help.

“Wonderful!” Russell exclaimed when he heard his patient mention how the headaches felt as if something were growing in his skull. Russell bent slightly and examined where Kock the Cook had pointed closely through his damaged spectacles. “Wonderful, wonderful,” he began muttering under his breath as he started to tactfully measure the man’s head finger by finger to see where he could place his incisions and enter his head.

Kock jumped but the younger man came forward and began muttering to himself. Somehow Russell’s voice sounded very alarming, it sounded oddly eerie and not at all reassuring! Kock shivered beneath the surgeon’s touch – surgeon! O no! The thought of a surgeon touching him made him think of dissections… it was precisely that that had caused him to leave the world of science, he put a hand to his mouth. Just thinking of dissecting humans made him sick.

“J-j-just what are you doing, d-doctor?” asked he. “No, sir… no, yes, doctor.” He simply sat there with God at his mercy.

“No?” Russell asked drawing back from the man and raising his arms as if he were about to be burnt by fire. “I’m searching for abnormalities in the outline of your skull… since last time,” he replied, trying to sound as earnest as possible, “after all, I said we’ll have to experiment if you would like me to help you with your… eh, pains. Now, can you repeat to me when these first started as well as a short description of their severity?”