Digger - The Doctor Will See You Now by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 11

The weekend passed uneventfully. The freezing air had sapped Ryan’s energy, allowing him to sleep without being stopped by the repetitive images of a first-person vivisection. He awoke to the buzzing sound of his alarm clock. It was six in the morning, and after a short breakfast, Ryan walked to the campus. In spite of the short distance, he always made an effort to arrive early. But that morning would be different.

He settled into his first class of the day and, as usual, took a seat in the front row. An hour into class, a well-dressed woman entered the classroom and, handing the instructor a folded piece of paper, left just as quickly. The instructor unfolded it as he paused in his lecture. Scanning it briefly, he glanced up at Ryan, whose reaction was a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Mr. Archer,” he began. “It seems that your presence has been requested by the dean.”

Ryan took a moment to absorb these words, then got up and started towards the door.

“Mr. Archer,” the instructor continued. “Why don’t you take your things with you?”

This caused his concern to deepen as he wondered if this had anything to do with his late-night visit to the lab two nights ago. But that wasn’t possible. There was no one else there. In fact, Ryan had seen no one that night. There must have been some mistake.

Walking out the door, Ryan made his way through the hallways and soon found himself in the administrative building. He climbed the freshly cleaned stairs and entered the office of the dean’s secretary, introducing himself as soon as he approached the desk.

“Hi, I’m Ryan Archer,” he said. “I’m supposed to see the dean.”

She looked up at him from an open appointment book. “Yes, Mr. Archer,” she replied. “Right this way.” Ryan found it odd that he was being led to a nearby conference room and began to feel that there may indeed be a problem. The secretary opened the door, and at the table sat the Dean, the chair of the D.O. program, and Dr. Zoser. All eyes rose up to meet Ryan as he entered the conference room, their expressions reflecting a deep degree of concern. More worrisome was the presence of a security guard standing nearby.

“Mr. Archer,” Dr. Zoser said. “Please, have a seat.” Ryan sat in a chair across from them. And as he set his pack on the floor, Ryan saw something from the corner of his eye. Looking back to the door, he discovered a security guard standing alertly next to the doorway. Now, there was a problem.

“What’s this about?” Ryan asked.

He was not only concerned, but afraid. Whatever was going on, it was something serious.

The dean spoke first.

“Mr. Archer,” he began. “Where were you on Friday night?”

Ryan thought it wasn’t such a big deal to be putting in a little extra time at the anatomy lab, and answering the question truthfully, he explained that he was putting in some additional work.

“That is very commendable, Mr. Archer,” the Dean continued. “However, there are one or two issues that have proven themselves troubling.”

Ryan listened intently, still deeply concerned about the security guard's presence. The dean held up a tablet, showing a video feed recorded from one of several small security cameras in the anatomy lab. For the sake of expediency, the video had been edited to play only the parts that were of greatest concern, and as Ryan watched, he suddenly felt both embarrassment and was shocked by what he saw -- photographing the cadaver, whispering in its ear. At the time, he hadn’t given it a second thought. When the video was finished, the dean set the tablet on the conference table. Ryan was in a state of shock, having bore witness to his own darkness, a fascination with the dead.

This realization left him speechless. Where would he even begin? Ryan sat in an almost catatonic-like state as his brain processed what his eyes had shown him. “Mr. Archer,” the dean began.

Ryan’s search for words was suddenly broken, forcing him to attend to the here and now.

“This is very troubling. Photographing a cadaver is a violation of department policy and possibly state law. This other behavior leaves me with the thought that perhaps a medical career of this type may not be a good fit for you.” Ryan knew exactly where the conversation was going as a million thoughts ran through his head. What would he do with his life? His undergraduate degree was in pre-med. What could he possibly do with his education if he was dismissed from UNE? And how would he tell his mother? “We would rather not pursue prosecution, but we do believe you should seek professional help for this issue. If, in the future, you can resolve this and demonstrate that you can cope with the pressure of the program, this university will be happy to consider you for readmission. But at this point, Mr. Archer, this university has no choice but to dismiss you from the program.” Anticipating the words and actually hearing them are two different things. Ryan was stunned. His only goal was to learn to become a doctor. Now, he felt that his only opportunity to succeed had been taken from him. He left the campus escorted by the security guard, whose job had been on that day, to stand behind him in the event he reacted badly. But knowing why the security guard was there to begin with did not help. It was policy, and rules are rules.

Ryan soon found himself in his apartment alone, weeping. He had no plan B, only one direction, and never considered the possibility of expulsion. He knew where he wanted to go and how he wanted to get there. But this was a roadblock for which there was no detour. After all the work and preparation, the only thing that stopped him was himself. And the dean was right. He had no doubt that there were some deep issues that needed to be addressed. But first, Ryan needed to reclaim some semblance of an organized life. However, there was one important matter that needed to be dealt with. How would he tell his mother? Certainly, he would not be able to lie to her. It doesn’t take a genius to spot a lie. One only needs to be a parent.