The line moved rapidly, but it still took hours for everyone to get their dope, no one about to disagree, in any way, with those machineguns that had everybody locked in a crossfire. Harry and Tyrone taped their stuff to their bodies and when they got back to the streets they picked up a couple of rocks each and walked down the middle of the street, their combined vision taking in a gGodegree area. They clung to the rocks even as they sat in the cab, not letting go of them to smoke, but holding on until they got back to their pad. The first thing they did was to get off, then they cut and bagged the rest of the shit, each guy taking a half piece to take care of their customers. They figured theyd better make the bags a little smaller than double the price. Things were tight and every dope fiend in the city would be willing to pay a dime for a nickel bag, even if it was a little light.
Harry and Marion were sitting back enjoying the warmth and the sense of security of listening to the radiators click and looking at the bags of dope on the table. Are you going to sell all that Harry? Most of it, why? Suppose we cant get any more? What will we do? Theres got to be more. But suppose there isnt, Marions voice was becoming more intense, look how difficult its been lately. But tonight was just a beginning. Marion turned and looked Harry in the eye, very intently, I dont think so. Whatta ya talkin about? Im not sure. Its a feeling. But I dont want to be sick anymore Harry. I dont like waking up and not having anything in the house. Either do I, but its bad business not to put the stuff on the streets. Now that theyve upped the price therell be plenty of stuff around. Marion shook her head, I have a bad feeling about it Harry. Dont sell it, Marions eyes reflected her fear and for the first time there was a pleading tone in her voice, wait and be sure theres going to be more… please Harry, please, her body rigid, her eyes staring straight ahead. Dont worry about it, we/ll be able to cop. We/ll be able to get straight.
Dr. Spencer stood in front of Dr. Harwood, the department administrator, his hands clenched in his pockets, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. Dr. Harwood pushed himself back from his desk and looked at Dr. Spencer for a moment and frowned slightly, You look positively rigid. You had better sit down and relax. He sat and took a deep breath and tried to allow his body to loosen, but it still ached from the rigidity of controlled anger. Dr. Harwood continued to frown, Well, what seems to be your problem doctor? you said it was urgent. Dr. Spencer took another deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, then exhaled slowly, Its Dr. Reynolds. Dr. Harwood looked sternly at him, I have told you before that if you want to feud with Dr. Reynolds to do it on your own time. This has nothing to do with a feud, it has to do with the proper care and treatment of patients. Dr. Harwood leaned back in his chair, Alright, what is it this time? Dr. Spencer was trying very hard to relax and control himself, but the more he talked about the situation the harder it was to control his anger. He took another deep breath, A Sara Goldfarb was admitted to the hospital in a completely disoriented condition and Dr. Reynolds diagnosed her as a paranoid schizophrenic and sent her to psycho with a recommendation of possible shock treatment, as usual—Dr. Harwood winced slightly, but said nothing—I gave her a routine examination and found that she had been taking diet pills and Valium and had not eaten a decent meal in many months… he paused for a moment fighting his rising anger… and left orders to have her transferred to medical. This morning I found that my orders had been countermanded by Dr. Reynolds and that the patient is still in psycho and not only that, but he has left a standing order, a standing order that all such orders of mine are to be completely and immediately ignored. Dr. Spencer was flushed and sweating slightly as Dr. Harwood watched him fighting to keep control of himself. He has the authority and the right to do that doctor. Im not talking about his right to do anything, Im talking about the patients right to receive the best and the proper medical attention. Are you saying that she is not getting exactly that at this hospital? Im saying that her problem is medical and not psycho. Give her a little rest, some proper food and clean her body of the stimulants and depressives that she has been taking and she will be completely recovered. Dr. Harwood looked at him coolly for a moment, In your opinion doctor. Its more than my opinion, its my experience. In the past eight months I have taken six of Dr. Reynolds’ patients and treated them medically, for just the same symptoms and the same reasons, and they have fully recovered in less than a month, without shock treatment or any psychotropic drugs. Dr. Harwood continued to look at him and to speak slowly, Yes, I know. That is why he gave those orders. You cannot interfere with another doctors treatment or— Even when that treatment is not only incompetent, but dangerous and inimical to the patients health and well being? Dr. Harwood blinked his eyes slowly, tolerantly, I do not think you are in a position to judge the competency of a doctor specializing in a field of medicine to which you are hostile and who is your superior in rating and experience. Well I disagree. Completely and vehemently. The record will bear me out. If someone has a toothache you dont send him to a chiropodist. And just what exactly is that supposed to mean? It simply means that medical patients should not be treated as psycho patients, and this woman, as were the others, is a medical problem not a psychiatric problem. Dr. Harwood was gently tapping the tips of his fingers together, Again, this is your opinion, which differs from Dr. Reynolds’ opinion. Reynolds is a horses ass. You will not make insulting remarks about other members of my staff, doctor, Dr. Harwood was leaning forward in his chair and looking directly into Dr. Spencers eyes, especially about decisions that have my concurrence. You mean you approved? Of course. But how could you after reading my remarks on her chart? There was no need for me to see her chart. No need to see her chart? You mean you just condemned someone to shock treatment without even looking at their record? O really, doctor, condemned is a childish and stupid word to use. But shock treatments are completely unnecessary in this case. I tell you I can have her well in just a few weeks with some rest and nourishment. Dr. Spencer, I am growing a little impatient with your antiReynolds tirade. Let me remind you, again, that he is your superior and just on the basis of that fact you are powerless over his actions. Completely powerless. Do you understand me? But dont you care about the welfare of the patient either? Dr. Harwood leaned toward Dr. Spencer, a bard look on his face, My job is to see that this department functions smoothly, with the least amount of trouble and conflict. That is my job and my purpose. I have the responsibility to see that a large department of one of the largest hospitals in the world—in the world—functions to the very best of its ability. I am responsible for thousands of people and that is my responsibility, not one small patient, but the thousands that depend on my ability to keep this department functioning smoothly, and without internecine squabbles. You have antagonized Dr. Reynolds repeatedly, without cause, and I have excused you— Without cause? How can— BE QUIET! I am not interested in your opinion about another doctors competency, but in performing my duties to the very best of my ability. But that woman— I have told you I dont care about that woman. Even if you are correct in your diagnosis and assumptions, the worst that can happen is that she will have a few unnecessary shock treatments. The worst— Dr. Harwood was staring hard at Dr. Spencer and leaning closer to him, Thats right. The worst. Whereas even if youre right and I go along with you it will cause so much disruption in the staff and the calm and efficient functioning of this department that far more will be lost than a few months time out of the life of one woman. Dr. Spencer looked hurt and bewildered, I thought your responsibility was to treat the sick. Dr. Harwood looked at him for a moment, Dont be naive doctor. Dr. Spencer just stared, feeling empty and hollow inside, his tongue tasting leaden and his eyes feeling heavy and tear laden. Dr. Harwood continued to stare at him, then breathed deeply and sighed and leaned back in his chair. Of course, if you do not approve of the manner in which this hospital is run you are free to resign your residency. That is your privilege. Dr. Spencer continued to look straight in front of him, Dr. Harwood and everything else in the room becoming a blur. His body was limp. His brain felt soggy. His gut hollow. He closed his eyes for a moment then shook his head. Dr. Harwood continued to tap the tips of his fingers together, Im certain there must be quite a bit for you to do on the wards doctor. Dr. Spencer nodded and stood to leave. And let me remind you of something doctor… harmony breeds efficiency. Good morning.
All the radiators clicked, but they were still cold. The panic continued and they were back to the old routine of scuffling the streets, just getting enough to get straight and nothing more. Marion was able to keep a good supply of sleeping pills in the house through her doctors, but she was still hysterical most of the time. Those mornings when they woke up and there was nothing in the house, having used the last the night before when their disease convinced them that it would be alright, that they wouldnt be sick in the morning, she became hysterical and trembled as she shot up a sleeping pill, occasionally blowing a shot and burning her arm so it swelled and turned red and she cried and yelled at Harry that it was his fault they didnt have their morning shot. What the hell you talkin about? Youre the one who was all hot in the fuckin biscuit to get off again last night. Well one bag wasnt enough. Its not my fault it was no good. I needed the other bag. Thats a bunch a bullshit. You couldve made it on that bag. You wouldve nodded out and slept like you always do. I do not nod and sleep, and you know that. And if I could have made it on that bag, why didnt you? You were all for using it last night. Sure, why not? Whatta my gonta do? just sit and watch you get high and not get high myself? Then just dont put all the weight on me, thats all. And leave me alone. You made me blow the first shot and now my arm is all messed up and I dont know where Im going to hit. What the fuck ya mean I made ya blow the shot? And whose the one goin out in this fuckin weather to cop? Youre the only one who can. If I could I would. Theres no joy sitting here alone, waiting. Ah fuck you, eh? Just let me get off and get out there and see whats happenin. Harry shot up a couple of the goof balls and tried to think a bigger and better flash than he got, and tried to think himself higher than he was, but though he didnt succeed, he wasnt sick and would be able to get down some hot chocolate that would help. As his body and mind started to calm slightly he saw Marion trying to get a hit with her left hand and she was trembling so much she was going to blow this fix too, so Harry told her he/d help her. Krist, youll kill yourself. He tied her up and rubbed her arm until a good vein came up then tapped the needle into the vein and they both stared, waiting for the blood to bubble up, and when it did Marion put her hand on the dropper, Let me, let me. Harry shrugged and sat back and Marion squeezed the fluid into her vein, then booted a couple of times, closing her eyes as the hot flush burned her body and a wave of nausea flushed through her and attacked her head momentarily, then when it subsided she opened her eyes and dropped her works in the glass of water. You okay? Marion nodded. Youd better lay off that shit. Youll burn up all your veins. If you get up tight, just drop a couple like you used to and drink the hot chocolate. Marion just looked at him and he shrugged, saying nothing. They both knew that suggestion was absurd, that sticking that needle in their arm was important, and just dropping a couple of pills, no matter how good it made them feel, just wasnt the same. They had to shoot them. Tyrone called and said he heard there was something happening so Harry hustled from the house. They pooled their money because Tyrone would be doing the copping, each one holding out enough for a few bags, just in case, and not telling the other. It had been happening so automatically that neither one thought much of it or even planned it. They simply held back money, telling the other one that was all they had. They decided to blow some of the money on a cab so they could get there faster, not wanting to blow it because they were too late. It was another scene where it was there, or at least it seemed to be, but it was also a waiting game, and so they waited, standing on the street, stamping their feet, hands buried deep in their jackets, trying to keep their backs to the bitter cold wind, it being too cold to even smoke a cigarette, afraid to go into a coffee shop for fear they might miss the man. And so they waited and shivered hoping ta krist that someone wasnt running a story down on them.