Rule #1: The Doctor Lies

The Bohemian Health Institute was a privately owned hospital in Northern California. It was a haven for the people in the surrounding community who couldn’t afford healthcare. The institution was nestled above Greenwood State Beach, an ideal location for patients to feel inspired and hopeful while going through treatment. The owner was an empathetic woman who understood that the medical monopolies of the world took advantage of the less fortunate. She was a wealthy entrepreneur who accepted patients that were less fortunate. As long as they needed help, Bohemian would never turn their backs on them.

The facility was smaller than most and ran by two doctors. One Doctor Sebat, came in the mornings, and the other, Doctor Baste, came in the evenings.

In the middle of January in 1995, Mendocino County was experiencing a terrible piercing winter. Temperatures were well below the thirties. At the time, the hospital had only two patients. The weather deterred people from coming to the facility since it caused the only road to become icy and hazardous.

Bohemian had a circular driveway covered in dried fallen leaves. The trees in front of the left wing looked bare, almost skeletal. It was three stories high, with two balconies in the center of the second and third floor, all being held up by six large white pillars. The building was entirely made of old red bricks, and the front steps led up to a glass door. The receptionist could be seen through it down the walkway beside an elevator.

“Hey Joyce,” said Dr. Sebat. “Could you please pull up the file for Mr. Caleb Calhoun and send it over to Nurse Mae as soon as possible?”

“Yes Doctor, I will get it to her right away,” Joyce smiled.

“Perfect! If there’s an emergency, I’ll be in the medical ward with Mr. Martin.”

“Sounds good, Doctor.”

Sebat walked down the bleach and pine-scented corridor. Her heels echoed through the building with each step. The hallways were dimly lit by hanging fluorescent lights that shined off the epoxy floor creating a perfect reflection of every passing door and window. There were mirrors hung shoulder height all along the walls. She had a habit of glancing at each one as she walked by but never stopped too long to look at her reflection. She wondered, who designed this place? Before she entered Mr. Martin's room, she adjusted her blue collar shirt under her white coat and ran her fingers through her dark brown hair.

She opened the door slowly, “How’s it going Brad?” She whispered.

Brad Martin was in a blue hospital gown laying on a white medical bed. His arms were filled with tubes running in and out his veins. His eyes were dark and sunken. His head tilted awkwardly as he smiled showing his slumped and wrinkled cheeks.

“Oh, hey doc.” He wheezed, “I’d be better if this stupid tree wasn’t blocking my god damn window.”

“I’ll make sure to transfer you to a more scenic area later today so you can enjoy the view.”

He cleared his throat. “Preciate it, doc.”

“How’s the medicine we prescribed for you?” She asked, “Are you feeling nauseous, loss of appetite, anything like that?”

“Between you and me,” he struggled for a breath. “I’m at the end of my rope. I don’t really think about it. I’m just waiting, you know.”

Dr. Sebat reached for his hand and gently held it. There wasn’t any pity in her eyes, but they brimmed with concern.

She tried to convince him, “Brad, think about all the people you’re leaving behind, like your friends and family.”

“Heh, you’re a sweet kid doc.” He laughed as he fought for a breath, “I wish there was another version of me, a different one, a healthier one. But, when it’s time to go you just gotta accept it.”

Tears dripped past her cheeks as she gazed at him wondering how she could help. This was something she’s experienced before, but it always pained her to see a patient lose hope.

He noticed her grief, “Hey, buck up. It’s part of the job description.”

She forced a smile, “You’re a sweet guy, Brad. I’ll make sure they move you somewhere more suitable, just relax okay?”

“Not like I got a choice.”

Dr. Sebat left the room and quietly closed the door. Behind her was Nurse Mae, silently watching as the Doctor waved goodbye to Mr. Martin.

She turned around and jumped! “Jesus! Mae, could you please not sneak up on me like that.” She had her hand on her chest and took a deep breath.

Mae looked at Sebat with her hazel colored eyes and giggled. She wore her honey blonde hair in a ponytail, and had on dark blue scrubs with a pair of black running shoes.

“If you had a heart attack Doctor, I’d inject you with ten CC’s of — Healium.” She teased.

“Mae, please. This is not the time for that. Mr. Martin is literally on his deathbed, and I need to find a way to treat him.”

“He has ALS, Doctor. We’ve done all we can for him.”

“I know, I know.” Sebat said, covering her mouth using her right hand.

Mae touched her arm, “We could prescribe him more medication to alleviate the pain?”

She let out a large sigh, “I just wish there was a cure for this disease… We’ll talk about it at another time, make sure you guys move him to a different room later today.”

“Roger that,” Mae saluted her with a clipboard in hand. “Oh, and I brought Mr. Calhoun’s file like you asked.”

“Excellent, let’s go see him.”

Nurse Mae and Dr. Sebat walked past the elevator towards the right wing.

“Just to debrief,” Mae flipped through the file. “Mr. Calhoun continues to show signs of incoordination, gradual mental decline, and a reduction in physical abilities.”

“Yes, Yes, I am aware his Huntington’s Disease is worsening. I just hope he’ll be able to communicate with us today.”

Sebat turned the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. “Why is this door locked?”

Mae fumbled with her keys, “Well, we don’t want him wandering around and getting lost right?”

She grew restless, “He’s not going anywhere, leave it open in case there’s an emergency.”

“Roger that,” Mae opened the door.

The room was filled with a cold ocean breeze from the open window. Caleb Calhoun was sitting in his wheelchair covered by a light blue blanket. He was obliviously staring at the beach, watching the push and pull of the waves with his dull bloodshot eyes. His mouth was half open and his hands were jerking back and forth aimlessly. He didn’t bother turning his head towards the door to see who it was.

Sebat put her hand on his shoulder, “Hey Mr. Calhoun, we’re here to check up on you.”

His eyes struggled to focus on what he wanted, so it took him a few tries to adjust them over to her.

Mae flashed a light into his pupils, “Seems like he’s developing abnormalities in his eye movements Doctor.”

“Thank you, nurse,” Sebat said. “Now sir, would you mind telling me your name?”

“C — Caleb,” he spoke.

“Wonderful, I realize your speech has been affected. Are you having a hard time swallowing as well?” She asked.

“Yes — Yeah, very much so.” He threw his hands onto his lap, “I ha — have been thinking now. My hands get — get in m — my way.”

“Let’s run a quick test Caleb. Would you please try to stick your arms straight out for me and close your eyes at the same time.”

Sebat observed him carefully. Mr. Calhoun slowly raised both arms, but his left elbow was still bent. His eyes were opening and closing erratically, compelling the nurse to cover his sight with her hands. While his shaking crooked arms were held up, his left fingers were pointed directly downwards while his right fingers had a slight curve to them.

“Alright Mr. Calhoun, you can relax now,” Sebat said. “I think that’ll be all for today.”

“You know f — for me, I — ” he grunted. “I seeing du — double.”

“I understand Caleb. I’ll make sure Mae brings you the medication, okay?”

They left his room and spoke in the hall.

“What are you thinking Doctor?”

For a moment Sebat had her back against the wall completely silent. “How much Xenazine are we prescribing him?”

Mae flipped through the file, “Twenty-five milligrams a day. It’s recommended that he gets half in the morning and half in the evening, but it’s not very effective against his involuntary muscle functions.”

“He’s already at the maximum daily limit,” muttered Sebat. “If we increase his dosage, we severely increase the risk of depression and suicide.” She paused and placed her hand over her lips again. “We could balance it out with some anti-depressants such as Zoloft. Could you research to find out if it’s harmful to prescribe the patient both and possible side effects?”

“I’ll give it my best — shot,” she winked.

“Really, Mae?” Sebat looked over at the clock hanging in the hallway. “Shoot, it’s almost 8 pm, I gotta run. I’ll see you in the morning!” She left waving goodbye.

As the clock struck 8, Dr. Baste walked up silently to the receptionist desk. Joyce was buried into the computer completely unaware that she was approaching behind her.

Baste looked over her shoulder, nestled close to her ear, and whispered something.

Joyce jolted out of her seat, eyes bright and alert as she turned around. “Dr. Baste! Oh my god. Please, stop doing that.”

Baste smirked, her rose colored lips were wide, devoid of warmth or humor. She gazed into joyce’s eyes, “You can leave for the day my dear.”

Joyce was confused, “Are you sure?” She asked.

“Yes, I’m positive.” Baste said, “Mae and I will handle everything tonight. Go off now, enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you,” Joyce replied, gathering her things together and walking out the front door.

Mae came up to Baste from the right wing and looked over at Joyce. “Where’s she going?”

“I gave her the rest of the day off. What’s on the agenda for tonight?”

“Nothing but I, C, and U!” Mae stared up at her with glee and cheer.

Dr. Baste stood still looking down at her unimpressed.

“Okay, well.” Mae said, looking at her notes, “Well, we just have to move Mr. Martin to a more comfortable room and check up on Mr. Calhoun again.”

“Simple enough,” Baste pushed up her glasses and straightened her white coat and black collar. Her merlot hair was pulled back into a tight bun. “I’ll handle it Mae, you go ahead and take a break.”

“Sweet, I’ll see you in a bit then.”

“I’ll call for you when you’re needed.” Dr. Baste specified.

“Roger that, Doctor.” Mae stepped into the elevator and took it up to the second floor dining hall.

As she turned around to say goodbye, Dr. Baste was already gone. To her surprise, the Doctor was already in front of Mr. Martin’s door. What are those flats made of? She thought, they’re quieter than a snake.

Baste entered the room and sat down in a chair beside Brad.

“Oh, it’s you.” He scoffed.

“Mr. Martin, I’m here to relocate you to a more suitable environment.” She explained.

“Yeah,” he took a large breath. “Took you long enough.”

There was a moment of silence as the Doctor observed him from top to bottom.

“Well?” He rasped, “C’mon then.”

Baste stood up, unlocked the wheels under his bed, and started pushing him out the door. “Relax Mr. Martin,” she said.

As she took him down the dimly lit corridor, there was a constant creaking noise from one of the wheels. The entrance at the end of the left wing swung open into a pitch-black room. He could hear the motion of the doors slow down behind him. The flickers of light shining and vanishing until they completely stopped.

Brad hacked and heaved, “Where are you taking me?”

There was a strange odor, and it reminded him of the old cheap industrial air fresheners. He swung his arms aimlessly in the darkness trying to grab something, anything. Then a blinding light flashed above him. He covered his eyes waiting for them to adjust. He looked at his surroundings. The walls were filled with rows of metal racks, with different colored plastic bins, and labels. As he turned his attention toward the end of the bed railing, she was standing there examining him.

“What — what are you doing?” He pressed, “When did you get there?”

“I’m here to remove your pain, Mr. Martin.”

Baste stood unnaturally still. Her eyes fixed on him as she reached into one of the bins to grab a liquid-filled glass container. She pulled a syringe from her coat pocket, extracted the fluid, and walked over to him.

“Hey!” He coughed, “Stop!”

Baste shoved the needle into his arm, “I’m injecting you with Morphine Mr. Martin.” She pushed down hard on the syringe until it was empty, “That should help with the discomfort.”

He laughed in agony, “Listen hon, I’ve been around long enough to know I’ll be dead in ten minutes.”

She glided her left fingers down over her lips, “Excellent.” She dropped the syringe and began caressing his head. Face to face she said, “Just let go Mr. Martin. It’s completely painless, give in. Let me see it. Let me see you leave this world.” She grinned.

Her deep, piercing brown eyes were locked onto his. She sat next to him quiet, attentive, and with excitement. Studying him as the light in his eyes faded and dulled.

Baste let out a large breath of relief and joy. “You are greatly appreciated.”

The Doctor took another handful of medication. She returned to the front of the bed and continued pushing Brad back into the hallway until they reached the correct room.

“Here you are, Mr. Martin,” she said. “The view you requested, enjoy.”

She left with a sense of accomplishment and strolled her way to Caleb’s room. She slowly turned the handle, and it was unlocked. Perfect.

He was sitting upright in bed gazing down at the dark ocean.

Baste closed the window and went over to him, “Hello, Mr. Calhoun. How are you this evening?” She asked.

He jerked his head twice before looking at her, “Y — You.”

“Looks like you still require the other half of prescribed Xenazine.” She looked at the clipboard in his room. “Oh, I noticed here you could use an extra dosage as well. Twenty-five milligrams certainly won’t do.” She brought out the medication she took and started grinding down his pills into a fine powder.

Caleb’s arm struggled to point at her, “You ch — checked me, two — today.”

“Yes, Yes, I’m here to check on you today.” She mixed the medicine with a cup of water examining it closely, “This method should have more success.” She tilted his head back and slowly helped him drink.

“There we are, Mr. Martin.” She wiped his lips and stood up holding the glass. “I’ll take care of this for you.”

Before walking out the door she turned back and said, “You enjoy yourself tonight, I insist.”

She took a step forward and bumped into Mae shattering the glass on the floor.

“My god Mae!” Baste was enraged, “Didn’t I say I would call if you were needed.”

“Yeah, but I just wanted to check up on y — ”

“I don’t need checking up on!” She bent down to pick up the broken pieces.

For a moment she saw her reflection, mirrored in all the shattered glass.

She stood up, “Mae, will you take care of this please?”

“Roger that, Doctor.”

“Thank you.” Baste brushed the shards of glass off her coat and left.

The next morning Bohemian was filled with cries of horror and sorrow. Dr. Sebat was struck with grief finding her dear friend Brad Martin, cold and lifeless, in his bedroom.

She knew something was wrong. It was happening again.

She burst into Mr. Calhoun’s room and screamed. His head dangled halfway to the floor. His eyes were bulging from their sockets, his face had a dark discolored blue tint. The upper half of his body was hanging off the bed railing, suspended by tangled medical wires and equipment. Somehow, one of the cords had wrapped around his neck, and he had a finger slipped under it as though he was trying to pull free. Dr. Sebat ran crying until she found Nurse Mae by the receptionist desk.

“Mae,” she wept into her lap. “It happened again! They’re gone, they’re all gone. I can’t save anyone, Mae.”

“It’s going to be okay, Doctor,” she gently patted her hair. “Listen, we will take care of this. I need you to sit right here and wait for Joyce I will be right back.”

Sebat wiped her tears and sat down, “Okay.”

Mae walked into the elevator and went up to the third floor. When she stepped off, she was surrounded by walls of crumbling bricks. Confined with no hallways or people, just a single hanging light-bulb above a rusted steel door directly in front of her. She pulled out her keys to unlock it. The room behind the door had a maple wood desk facing the balcony. It was surrounded by handcrafted shelves filled with dusty books and manila folders. She sat down at the table staring up at the endless grey sky. In front of her was an audio recorder, a folder, and three photos: one of Baste, one of Sebat, and a stranger.

She picked up the recorder. There was a loud click as she turned it on.

“Mae Bohemian from the Bohemian Health Institute.

Today is January 17th, 1995.

Log Number 88:

Patient Bates continues to alternate between her other aliases known as Dr. Baste and Dr. Sebat. I have determined from my analysis that the core of her being has been severed to create two distinct personalities. One full of sympathy and kindness, while the other is enamored with death. This disorder remains a poorly understood phenomenon. We will transport more sick patients, from the Death Row Correctional Facility, and proceed to examine her under my supervision. Today, she wept uncontrollably at the death of Caleb Calhoun and Brad Martin. It seems as though she has completely forgotten that she is the one responsible for their deaths. Is she acting? I have taken that into consideration. I will further my research on patient Bates to determine if her split identity disorder is a valid diagnosis. End log.”