This will be, er, fruitful for you. Fruitful! Might I add that the risk of patients picking up any infections from my clinics is very, very small."
That's nice to hear.
"Splendid!"
Such a fine man.
Q
The wait nearly did for him. In the weeks following the hospital meeting, the anticipation had continued to build inside Mr Pepo. At one point, he thought he was going to burst; he simply couldn't wait any longer. Thankfully, the big day did eventually arrive and, when it did, it dawned bright, warm and clear. It was the kind of day that filled the body with energy, the kind of day that led to growth and greatness. He would soon be meeting his destiny, to his mind one that was well-deserved and long-overdue, and it was so close now that he could almost touch it. The day was just a pup, but by the end of it he would be born again. At last, the waiting was over.
Pepo rolled into the hospital, as if in a dream. His arrival was processed and he was forwarded swiftly to the next stage. The hospital was a machine. Countless others had come before him and many more would follow, all of them filled with the same hope, expectation and fear. He didn't care so much about them; this was his time. Those well-oiled factory gears and linkages were running, in that instant, just for him. He had taken his place on the conveyor belt and, as it dragged him deftly forward, Mr Pepo pondered his fate. It was going to be a good result, he knew it. Finally, he was going to be complete. Even if he found himself in a wheelchair for a spell, well, he would not be leaving as a vegetable. That was for sure.
Q
"Good morning, Mr Pepo." said the first white robe.
"Good morning!" echoed the second.
"We've got some super drugs for you today, Mr Pepo."
"Some super drugs!"
A third robe breezed into the room and, before it spoke, Pepo identified it as Gourd. Those forested forearms were a dead giveaway. The eyes sparkled between the crisp hat and mask. "Mr Pepo. Mr Pepo! Splendid to see you again. Splendid!"
Gourd was upon him in a flash, scanning his patient for any potential last-minute complications. He simply adored last-minute complications. Yes, they gave him the chance to show his mettle and prove his worth as a surgeon but, actually, they just made the job that bit more interesting. Pepo was in good shape though, Gourd had to admit. The better weather had clearly done this particular customer some good, his time outdoors had left him bronzed and turgid, and the prospects were very promising. In his professional opinion.
Squeak.
Squeak.
The feeling of the marker pen scratching and pulling at his skin was new for Pepo.
This is just the beginning.
The anaesthetists gazed at each other across the bed, their heads tilted slightly. They also had twinkly eyes, all of a sudden.
My time has nearly come.
"There! All set." Gourd took a step back. "Splendid. Splendid!"
Pepo found himself looking up at the ceiling. The hospital's strip lights seemed impossibly white, cold and quite unlike anything he was used to. He did appreciate the textured finish to the tiles, however, though he wasn't too struck by their sharp squareness.
"I'll see you on the other side, Mr Pepo. I'm off to scrub up."
Cheerio, Doc.
"A small scratch coming, Mr Pepo!"
"Just a small scratch!"
Pepo was aware of some distant sensation. He kept on looking at the ceiling.
"Flushing through."
"Flushing through!"
Pepo suddenly felt an icy wave passing through his body. It was not an entirely pleasant feeling, but he assumed it was necessary.
"Right, Mr Pepo, we're ready to put you to sleep now."
"Time for sleepy byes!"
I am ready, gentlemen.
"Can you count backwards from 10 for me please, Mr Pepo?"
"Count down, Mr Pepo!"
The ceiling tiles were devoured by a darkness from either side. The cold white narrowed into a thin strip and then disappeared altogether.
Mr Pepo went under.
"Mr Pepo?"
"Mr Pepo?"
The anaesthetists eyed each other once more. In unison, their heads tilted to one side. They paused and turned away from the bed.
Q
Life was good for Mr Pepo.
Gourd had been right, of course, about the pain and the transition. He'd certainly felt a bit groggy afterwards, not that he'd ever touched the drink, mind. Boy, it had been worth it though. Why didn't I do it sooner? Mr Pepo asked himself. At the same time, he knew that the ages of isolation and inconspicuousness had all been part of his long journey. Would he have appreciated his new start had he not suffered for so long? You've got to endure the rough to enjoy the smooth.
He certainly didn't feel lonely anymore. Where folk had previously walked on, or not seen him at all, they now stopped and stared. They would point and smile. Some frowned and grimaced. In their excitement, people would talk about Mr Pepo as though he couldn't hear their words, as though he were on the other side of thick glass. He didn't care. In fact, he savoured every single comment. Better to be remembered for something bad than not to be remembered at all. So taken were they by his new features that a few, children normally, even tried to copy him. All of this attention had taken a bit of getting used to but he was being noticed, for the first time in his otherwise uneventful, lacklustre life, and he was determined to make the most of it. Just look what I've been missing.
Q
Mr Pepo sat out under the stars. It was a chilly night but there were plenty of people out and about and the cold was not about to dampen the smile on his face. His eyes twinkled – no, they burned - into the darkness and, without fail, passersby continued to gaze and marvel at him.
"Look Daddy, look!" said a girl in a pointy hat. "This one is my favourite, out of all of them. He's my absolute favourite."
She ran up to Mr Pepo, crouched down and waved in his face. She grinned widely, showing him all of her teeth - and some impressive gaps - in what Mr Pepo took to be an act of solidarity.
"Oh Daddy, he's the best!"
"Yes," agreed the father, "somebody's done a good job on him!"
Mr Pepo shone. Thank you Dr Gourd!
And he was a doctor. There was no doubt about it now.
The girl waved again and stood up. Because she was so close to him, all Mr Pepo could see were her black shoes and silver buckles. They stepped round him and vanished from his sight. A few seconds later, there was a knocking sound and, in the ensuing silence, Mr Pepo heard the girl giggle.
With a click and a gentle swoosh, a door opened.
"Trick or treat?" the girl enquired.
Q
About the Author
Duncan Leigh was born in 1974 in Rutland, England's smallest county, where the motto is multum in parvo ('much from little'). He has survived a few jobs over the years and been a school teacher for the last 15. In the RAF, he ironed shirts for the Queen and, prior to that, spent 7 months eating ice cream in New Zealand. While studying for his degree, and beyond, he also worked for a sports distribution company in Folkestone. His first job was at the Hythe Imperial Hotel, where his colleagues threw knives at him and one of the chefs called him 'Honey'. After that, he worked on the deli counter at Tesco, chopping cheese and serving samosas. These days, he dreams of connecting with others through his writing. When he can, he likes to spend time moving about outside - he loves the water and is a keen swimmer. He lives on Kent's south coast with one wife, 3 kids, 2 cats, a dozen goldfish and 12 stick insects.
Other books by this author
A Minute in March
The Making of Jammy Dodger
The Blue Porpoise
The Windmills of My Mind
Connect with Duncan Leigh
I am delighted that you read my book! If you enjoyed it, please tell somebody. You can also get in touch with me via my website or by becoming my friend on Facebook.
Thank you!
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