The Thanatos Syndrome

doing so consciously and well. There is a space between what he is and what he is doing. He is graceful and conscious of his gracefulness, like an actor.
    Max is nothing of the sort. He is upset and at a loss. Max suddenly looks tired and old. No longer the bright young Jesus among the elders, planes of his temples flashing light, amazing the older staff physicians with his knowledge, he sounds more like a Jewish mother. He moralizes: This is wrong, this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.
    But Max revives, perks up, sits erect. “Excuse me, Bob, but this is all a lot of humbug. The fact is that is why we are here: to review Dr. More’s competence and integrity, which I’m assuming is not in question here, and as members of the ethics committee of the medical society to recommend to the state board that his license be reinstated in full, which will then occur as a matter of course, right?”
    â€œRight. Except for one annoying little glitch like I told you,” says Bob Comeaux patiently. He looks both genial and doleful.
    â€œWhat glitch?”—Max, cocking his head.
    â€œYou know as well as I do, Max,” says Bob Comeaux wearily. “In the case of a felony count, even with our recommendation, a license can only be reinstated after a year’s probationary service under our supervision—which is exactly what I’m offering him, except that he’ll be free and won’t have to report to us.”
    â€œFelony?” Max spreads his hands, beseeches the four walls, the Mississippi River. “What felony?”
    â€œOh boy,” says Bob Comeaux softly, shaking his head. He flips open the file next to his thigh on the desk where he’s still lounging at ease, reads in a neutral clerk’s voice, sighting past his folded arms. “These are the minutes of the first hearing before the State Medical Board. Dr. Thomas More charged by Agent Marcus Harris of the ATFA—let me see, blah blah—with the sale of one hundred prescriptions of Desoxyn tablets and two hundred prescriptions of Dalmane capsules at one dollar per dose for the purpose of resale at the Union 76 truck stop of I-12 near Hammond, Louisiana—blah, blah—look, guys, there is no need to go back over this stuff.” He closes the file.
    â€œThat’s entrapment!” Max cries, again to the world at large. “That narc guy was posing as a trucker.”
    â€œRight,” says Bob Comeaux glumly. “A sting operation. Could I ask you something, Tom—something I’ve never understood?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œI’ve never understood why you didn’t just charge those guys a medical fee. Why sell the damn prescriptions wholesale through a goddamn truck stop?”
    â€œI needed the money. I knew the owner of the truck stop and had confidence in him, that he would only deal with truckers who needed them. You will note that the dosages were minimal, twenty-five milligrams of Desoxyn and thirty milligrams of Dalmane, just enough to get them up enough to keep awake and then down so they could sleep. You know those guys push those big double and triple tandems over crumbling interstates for up to eighteen hours a day. Then they’re so tired they can’t sleep.”
    â€œOh boy,” says Bob Comeaux.
    Max opens his hands again but says nothing. Doesn’t have to. Tom, that was dumb, was what he would say.
    â€œOkay,” says Bob gently. “Here’s our little problem. Desoxyn is an amphetamine, isn’t it, Tom?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDalmane is a hypnotic, right?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWe’re talking controlled substances, fellows, schedule three. We’re talking a felony count under new state and federal statutes.”
    â€œSo what’s the big deal?” asks Max, asking the space between me and Bob Comeaux. “So it was a dumb thing to do. Not dangerous, but dumb. As a matter of fact, he probably saved lives by keeping those poor bastards awake. Dumb, yes. But he’s paid for his mistake. The feds are not interested in him. As far as we are concerned, the ethics committee, I don’t see the problem. I’m sure Tom doesn’t mind my saying that he was not at all himself at the time. I know because I was treating him.”
    â€œNo, Max,” I say. “You were not treating me at the time. That was earlier.” For some reason I am having difficulty