R. Royce was trying to cure the common cold. He remembered the stages in the process a person goes through from an obscure and all but obsolete book on biology, printed in 1950, that had been shelved in a corner bookcase in the living room. First contact: the micro-organism enters the human body. Incubation phase: the microbes find a warm, moist, dark place in the body and begin to multiply, exponentially. They begin to overwhelm the host. Sickness: the host becomes desperately ill. His body weakens considerably. He feels fatigued, lacks energy, and wants rest. He loses his appetite. He alternately sweats and has chills. His head pounds and his muscles ache. Recovery phase: his immune system begins to fight against the invading microbes. White blood cell production increases dramatically in his bloodstream. The blood cells produce phlegm, which gradually covers, overwhelms, and encapsulates the microbes, which have been steadily growing in numbers, rapidly expanding their territory, reproducing in his mouth, nose, and throat. Return to health: he can begin to breathe easier, his appetite returns, and he feels like getting out of bed again to greet the day and participate in normal daily activities.
At first, he thought he had at home all the ingredients necessary which would bring about a quick, easy cure: steaming Camomile and lemon teas, chicken broth, rest, and faith. After three days with a runny nose, however, his swollen sinuses began to clog and his breathing became labored. He periodically blew out the slimy mucus from each of his nostrils into the bathroom sink, but one nostril or the other would invariably re-clog, and he would have to exhale warm air from his mouth to complete the respiration process in the most efficient manner possible. His eye-lids grew heavy; his vision, dim and blurry.
He reminisced about friends from long ago. Whatever happened to Pete Bates, from middle-school days? Tall, skinny, shy kid who milled about the schoolyard with the rest before the bell sounded, and didn't have much to say that was very untypical, except that he thought he could fly. He always carried a bottle of "Formula 44" to prevent the flu in the pocket of his winter Parka. So, it would seem that he sometimes got carried away with visions of grandeur. One early morning, a crowd of kids pointed to the top of the school building and there he stood on the roof-top. Many in the crowd pointed fingers, and everyone looked skyward, amazed. A roar went up. Some of the school-kids shouted, "Show us you can fly, Master Bates!" Then, they began to chant, "Jump Pete jump." Fortunately, the unruly disturbance caught the attention of the school principal, who went topside and coaxed the delinquent back inside the building. The principal must have convinced his parents that the undisciplined boy would be an excellent candidate for the junior military academy located in the next town, because that was his last day in school, and that was how Pete finally cured his cold.
The next morning, when Royce thought he might be getting a sore throat as a result of his illness, he drove to the local convenience store and picked up some lemon-lime soda and night-time cold medicine. According to the text book, some persons had resorted to the use of stimulants and depressants. The medicine would help him sleep better throughout the night, he believed. The down-side was he'd wake up in the middle of the night soaked in a cold sweat, his sheets and pillow cases cold and damp. He'd climb out of bed to change the sheets and pillow cases for dry linens, tossing the wet items in the washing machine. The next morning, he'd wake up in a cold sweat again, having slept on cold, damp sheets and pillow cases. So, he had to change the sheets and pillow cases a second time. He tossed the damp ones into the washer, and those from the washer to the dryer. He reflected on the fact that you sort of wanted to generate a little body heat, especially in the middle of winter. All he felt was cold and damp.
A few days later, he developed a harsh cough and began to get a sore throat, partially from the cold-causing microbes and partially from the cold medicine, which tended to dry out the mucus membranes of his esophagus. He began to cough repeatedly, trying with all his might, attempting to expel the perceived irritant on the inside wall of his throat.
Because of the persistent cough he'd developed, Royce returned to the store for another 12-pack of lemon-lime sodas and a large package of winter-green flavored mint candies, something that might soothe his irritated throat condition. Candy-coating his esophagus with mint and lemon-lime flavored syrups seemed to work fairly well and his throat began to feel much better. Particularly so, after numerous rigorous bouts of gargling with warm salt-water, during the night.
Gradually, over time, he began to breath easier and he was able to rest much more completely. His muscles were still sore and his joints ached, but he was becoming more alert. And he had finally felt the fever that had flamed up within him, warm, burning, inviting--like the wood-fire in a cozy, rustic cabin fireplace made of rocks, stacked and cemented together all the way to the chimney top. The next morning, he cooked an omelet for breakfast and had a cup of coffee. He was slowly but surely returning to normal. "What doesn't kill you will make you stronger," he recollected someone having recently said in the office, as he began to gather his wits about him. Thus, the "physician" healed himself after all. "Feed a cold; starve a fever," he proclaimed loudly in defiance!
Only it wasn't just the common cold he was trying to cure. A week prior, he'd been afflicted by the deadly tse-tse fly toxin on his way to the exiting airport. It caught him unaware, as if a poisoned dart had just sailed by him while he was strolling along the sidewalk, window-shopping in the fashion merchandise district. As he paused to turn the corner, the sharp needle-point barely nicked him, scratching the exposed skin on back of his neck. He swatted too late. The fly zipped through the air, ultimately striking a wooden-framed bulletin board made of cork dead center among the routinely posted government notices and the list of active, precautionary safety measures found on the advertising kiosk. It felt like a mosquito bite. Harmless enough. Maybe. He didn't stop to read the writing on the wall.
One might wonder if the pocketful of raw, rare gemstones he had concealed on his person were so precious as to risk his very life in the process of couriering them across remote international borders, not his own, for an undisclosed employer, funded by a temporary employment agency. Lucrative, but not much said about job security. But then again, it beat flipping veggie burgers for a living at the delicatessen back home by a long shot.
The historical novel, An Instance of the Fingerpost, written by Iain Pears, published in 1998 proved to be just the kind of realistic reading material--food for thought, you could sink your teeth into. The story seems plausible enough. An Italian medical student goes to London, England in the middle 17th century and tries to learn enough and earn the necessary credentials to become a doctor. He feels the calling to heal the sick and improve the lives and health of everyone he meets. A noble ambition. He has a crude idea of man's mortality and his short life-span, but does the best he can under the circumstances. Not everyone he tries to heal gets the cure. Not every physician is perfectly gifted, suitable, or perfectly qualified for the job. Basically, he meets a number of other "quacks," quite unlike himself, and a variety of other quirky characters. The profession becomes frustrating to him, but he perseveres. He learns useful home remedies from practitioners of local folk medicine. He gains accolades from the renowned colleges of medicine. And he gets an inside look at the politics of medical health care.
In fact, the politics of health care applies just as much today as it did 350 years ago in sunny old England, even though today's doctors are better trained and we've all enjoyed the benefits and miracles of modern-day medicine. Nonetheless, you might want to think twice about having your appendix, tonsils, gall bladder, etc removed, simply because you have experienced slight discomfort and moderate inflammation, and because you have the necessary health insurance to cover the expense. Likewise you might want to consider a second opinion or multiple opinions before you consent to and give preference to one form of medical treatment over another. For all you know the anomaly revealed might be completely harmless and you have several more decades to live, before you die of natural causes. We know that we all have to go some time, but we'd prefer to prolong the inevitable. Likewise, you might not want to overdo it with the tremendous volume and kinds of available medication. You don't want to abuse pharmaceuticals, and you certainly don't want to become addicted to them. At some point in time, you might want to ask yourself if you really need the pain pills, sedatives, anti-anxiety medication, etc. Rehab, detox, "cold turkey," "drying-out," and "going on the wagon" are alternatives.
Is the stress and pressure from your job killing you? Does your type-A personality dramatically increase your chances for a heart-attack? My philosophy is "run like hell!" Save up and try something different. Change your life-style. Quit. Sell out. Move. Get a hobby. Relax. Go where people live longer, sensible lives, without the hustle and bustle. Retire, even if you have to live more modestly in moderation. What sense does it make rampaging through life like a raging bull right up until the very moment he meets the point of the sword? Unless, of course, you really love your work. In the immortal words of a former co-worker, "Law enforcement is my life!" But then again, she resigned after a few short years and married a doctor. Sensible girl. The gentle people love her so.
Your audiobook is waiting!
Enjoy a free trial on us
- Click above for unlimited listening to select audiobooks, Audible Originals, and podcasts.
- One credit a month to pick any title from our entire premium selection — yours to keep (you'll use your first credit now).
- You will get an email reminder before your trial ends.
- $14.95 a month after 30 days. Cancel online anytime.
Sold and delivered by Audible, an Amazon company
Loading your book clubs
There was a problem loading your book clubs. Please try again.
Not in a club? Learn more
Join or create book clubs
Choose books together
Track your books
Bring your club to Amazon Book Clubs, start a new book club and invite your friends to join, or find a club that’s right for you for free.
An Instance of the Fingerpost
Audible Audiobook
– Abridged
People who viewed this also viewed
Page 1 of 1Start OverPage 1 of 1
- Audible Audiobook
- Audible Audiobook
- Audible Audiobook
- Audible Audiobook
- Audible Audiobook
People who bought this also bought
Page 1 of 1Start OverPage 1 of 1
- Audible Audiobook
- Audible Audiobook
- Audible Audiobook
- Audible Audiobook
- Audible Audiobook
Related to this topic
Page 1 of 1Start OverPage 1 of 1
- Audible Audiobook
- Audible Audiobook
- Audible Audiobook
- Audible Audiobook
- Audible Audiobook
Top reviews from other countries
Kindle Customer
Utterly captivating
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on August 5, 2023
