11 Chapter 11

Before she left the lab, the doctor took off her white coat and traded it for her herringbone jacket that hung on the metal coat rack by the door.Then, taking her shoulder bag that also hung there, she retrieved her cosmetic bag and rummaged inside for her makeup supplies.Glancing in the small wall mirror, she applied a touch of blusher to her cheeks and a slash of dark wine gloss along her lips.A natural curly redhead, Suzan possessed the pearlescent skin and bridge of freckles that went along with her genetic makeup, and without some cosmetic help she always appeared pale.Every morning she applied dark mascara to give some color to her fair lashes and bring out the highlights in her slate-blue eyes.

She wasn't vain or overly occupied with her appearance, but she always felt self-conscious if she didn't take some pains to make herself look presentable, especially when giving lectures to a large audience or speaking with a group of medical colleagues.Just last week she had been interviewed by a local TV reporter on her recent receipt of a large research grant to continue her study of blood cell manipulation in order to forestall and even conquer a rare but deadly form of blood cancer called Waldenstrom's Macroglobulinemia.Before the interview began, she had applied makeup to look her best.Suzan knew that people, particularly patients, felt more confident with a put-together doctor than one who looked pale, tired and harried-even though sometimes she felt just that.

Now, for a finishing touch, she fluffed out her mass of carotene curls with her fingers. Suzan felt ready to tackle her persistent visitor.Armed with her shoulder bag, she walked into the outer office area where Vanda had her desk and files.Along one wall ran padded chairs for the occasional patient or pharmaceutical vendor that Suzan dealt with.Since she devoted most of her time to research now, her patient load had dropped considerably to only one or two serious cases a year.She certainly didn't want to take on another, and would gladly refer this man to another competent hematologist.

Suzan peered into the shadows.Vanda had turned off the overhead fluorescents but had left on her desk lamp, perhaps as an act of efficiency or to give the unwanted visitor a subtle hint.

"Mr. Lambert?"Her query stirred movement at the end of the line of chairs.The man had been sitting in the shadows.

Now he rose and approached the doctor."Yes, I'm Charles Lambert."

"Nice to meet you.I'm Dr. Suzan Dwyer."She held out her hand in greeting but Charles Lambert ignored her courteous gesture.When he finally emerged from the shadows, Suzan saw a man in his mid to late sixties, certainly not a man in his thirties as Vanda indicated.And if he had been attractive in his younger days, age and circumstances had altered his appearance.Beside the sagging flesh of his chin and throat, he possessed definite lines around his mouth and deeper tracks along his eyes.Beneath his pale, almost translucent skin, ran a network of blue veins.His hair leaned toward gray with the untouched areas matted a dull brown, and his shoulders rolled in to give him a stooped posture.

But Vanda had been correct when she noted his attire-the man wore neat and expensive clothes, a lightweight cream leisure coat, a pastel blue shirt, and form-fitting tan slacks.A platinum Rolex watch hung loosely on his thin wrist.

"Dr. Dwyer," the man stated in a surprisingly strong voice, "I have come to you out of desperation.Not more than two hours ago, I was thirty-one years old and now I have aged considerably.I know it will be only a matter of hours, not even days, before I become feeble and infirm.Then I will die."

Suzan frowned."I don't understand, Mr. Lambert."

"I know you think my statement sounds fantastic, but if you hear my story you will understand.My blood was fused with another, and it has kept me youthful all these many, many years...actually for two centuries.But now my blood no longer sustains me and I come to you to seek help.You see, I am experiencing the reversal of the immortality given me.I need you to diagnose this blood disorder and perhaps find a solution, or even an antidote."

Suzan tried to be as diplomatic as possible, knowing this had to be a practical joke, although she couldn't think of a friend or colleague who would go to this length to pull a trick on her.Either that or this man was truly in need of mental health care."I'm sorry, Mr. Lambert, but I can't help you unless you have a referral from another doctor.Now I can direct you to a qualified specialist if you believe your problem is blood related.Dr. Brian Goetz is an excellent hematologist-"

"No!" Lambert cut in abruptly."No one else can help me!I have very little time left.I need you to take a sample of my blood and find out if you can reverse the degenerative process."

Having had enough of this joke, Suzan took a firm stand."No, I cannot, Mr. Lambert.You come to me with this farfetched story and you expect me to drop everything so I can examine you.What you suggest takes time and a multitude of testing.But if you say you don't have much time left, then these tests will be pointless.Surely you can see that."As she spoke, Suzan reached into the side pocket of her purse and fingered her can of mace just in case Mr. Lambert decided on a physical confrontation.Despite the stooped shoulders and sagging skin, he still possessed a tall frame and some muscle mass left.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I want to close down the office."She side stepped toward the desk, ready to pick up the receiver of the phone console and dial 911.

Lambert took a step forward and then paused.With a wistful sigh, he glanced down at his polished ankle boots."I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Dr. Dwyer.I just thought...well, it doesn't matter any more."When he lifted his head, tears rolled down his wrinkled cheeks, his eyes misted an opaque blue.