VIRAGO

Chapter 19

     I've dealt with disappointment my whole life and then some, this was a shade darker. My work; having previously fulfilled the majority of my needs, appeared to be without point or value. Sensing something in me had shifted since my trip to the basement, Brahm continued to rely on me less and less, an act of detachment which decreased my self-worth even further. Even David's progress failed to capture my interest; I imagine it showed on the next occasion we met.

     'How did the procedure go?'

     'Ok. Not as terrifying as the first time round, shame you couldn't hold my hand again, it'd have been more fun with a friend.'

The F word ricocheted about my mind, a blur of high speed emotional pinball. Having never experienced anyone refer to me as a friend during my adult life, I had no point of reference. Did he expect a reaction? Ill equipped, I steered the conversation back to business.

     'Is that so? Well; I apologise, I had an initial screening with a new client and then a delivery to attend to for Lars.'

     'I can see you're keen as mustard to hear how it went, so in spite of your grumpy tone, I'll oblige. Whipped out the first chip and reinstalled a new one. Noticed a weird mottling on the coating of the chip he removed, like an old brass that needed rubbing up.'

     'And you're happy with everything?'

     'Tickety boo. What's up Doc?'

I felt as relaxed with David as I could ever hope to be with another human being. In the early days of our acquaintance, I'd been driven to the health club, using the mirrors to validate my worthiness; seeking reassurance that he would have no reason to be disappointed with the flawed package that makes up this mess of me. I try to picture his reaction, the emotions that would cross his face if I showed him the secret pathways beneath my clothes, the tapestry of self harm I've created.

During a rare, much calmer moment, I'd sought reassurance through research; specifically the history of humans carving openings into their bodies. Bloodletting had been commonplace; a method of casting out infection, information which led to my sigh of relief. I interpreted it as an approval of sorts, a nod to a behaviour I had embraced but hidden, for many years.

I wound my way back to ancient times, to a procedure carried out on those displaying a behaviour that was considered by their superiors, to be abnormal. Healers of the day rejoiced in this method which promised to release the evil spirits lurking inside those possessed. I shudder; realise that only the hands of time have saved me, the proximity of this near miss is terrifying. Had I being readily available centuries ago, they would have surely made merry with both my foibles and my cranium.

The discovery of trepanning was a revelation. Much more invasive than any methods I'd employed; barbaric, yet totally logical. The recipient one must assume, had complained of headaches or pain in the skull. Doctors of the day knew enough to diagnose such pains as tension related; the remedy offered seemed an obvious choice, intervention via inter cranial release. Their prescribed approach was simple; using a surgical tool known as a trephine, they cut a circular hole in the patient's skull in order to relieve pressure.

As recently as 1965 a prominent advocate of trepanning drilled a hole in his own head to increase his 'brain blood volume'. He used a dentist drill; a true mad scientist horror story, details I found rather sickening, a little too close for comfort.

I wondered if his method had been exploratory; due diligence all in the name of science or if like me, his demons were so fearsome, they drove him to destruction. Most would shrink at the thought of implementing such horror in order to bring about relief. I've stood on the other side of that glass looking in and I believe it to be entirely comprehensible. I can barely cope with my stallion; a herd would undoubtedly put an end to my life, a prospect which on some days brings me immense relief.