Vienna Blood

65

STEFAN KANNER AND PROFESSOR Pallenberg were standing in an attic room of the General Hospital. A rope, one end of which disappeared into an elaborate winching device, had been thrown over a central support beam. The exposed mechanism of the winch consisted of several large wooden cogs, a central drum, and a low crank handle. The other end of the rope formed a noose that had been pulled tightly around the feet of a middle-aged man who was now suspended upside down approximately five feet from the floor. He was wearing a restraining jacket of brown canvas. The flesh on his face had been redistributed by gravity, creating a unique expression that married the inscrutability of a Japanese Buddha with the comedic painted lineaments of a clown, and his hair hung straight down. The scene was lit by a thin pasty light that seeped apologetically through a narrow window.

“Well?” said Professor Pallenberg.

“I must confess that I am not familiar with this particular”Kanner hesitated, bit his lower lip, and finally forced out the word“treatment.”

“No,” said Pallenberg. “It is largely unknown to students of your generation.”

The patient rotated clockwise, slowing by degrees to a perfect standstill. After a moment of stillness, the rope began to unwind and the hanging man turned in the opposite direction. The restraining jacket gave him the appearance of a giant pupa.

“As you know,” Pallenberg went on, “Herr Auger has not responded to conservative treatments-particularly morphia and veronal-and I thought it time to try a different approach… something that I remembered from my student days in Paris.”

“Suspension is a French treatment?”

“Indeed. I am one of a select company of Viennese doctors who had the pleasure of studying under Charcot at the Salpetriere. Do you know Professor Freud?”

“Not personally.”

“He was another. A great man, Charcot. The Napoleon of the neuroses.”

“I have read some of Professor Freud's translations. But I have never come across this specific”-he found himself hesitating again“therapy.”

“Well, that isn't surprising. Charcot's pioneering work using hypnosis as a treatment for la grande hysterie has somewhat eclipsed his other contributions. In my estimation, iron-filing ingestion and suspension in harness are two original interventions that have been sadly neglected.”

“Might I ask,” said Kanner tentatively, “how suspension works?”

“Well,” Pallenberg replied, “Charcot proposed certain theories that-to be frank-are not compelling. But I always suspected that his work in this domain merited further consideration. I remember the case of an engineer who suffered from delusions of persecution and who benefited greatly from suspension. Then there was a sailor who believed that one of his legs had been amputated while he slept somewhere off the coast of Portugal… I have long since wondered whether certain forms of delusion-among which we must include the Cotard-are caused by an abnormality of circulation. Perhaps Charcot achieved these successes because suspension had some subtle effect on the course of arterial blood flow in the brain. It is my earnest hope that Herr Auger will be the beneficiary of such a process.”

“Could a similar effect not be achieved by encouraging Herr Auger to lie in bed with his feet raised on some pillows?”

Professor Pallenberg shook his head. “No, I doubt that very much.”

Kanner, accepting his role as the junior party in the exchange, stood corrected.

Professor Pallenberg approached his inverted patient. A dull creaking sound accompanied the periodic clockwise and anticlockwise rotations.

“Herr Auger,” said Pallenberg, addressing the reverse-horripilated head. “How are you feeling?”

“I do not exist,” came the gentle, resigned reply.

“That is self-evidently not true, Herr Auger,” Pallenberg responded somewhat tetchily. “Now, would you be so kind as to tell me how you feel?”

“I am not here.”

Kanner was relieved to hear Herr Auger's usual response. If the poor man did not believe in his own existence, then it seemed unlikely that he could be suffering very much.

Pallenberg shrugged and caught Kanner's eye. “One cannot expect very much progress at this very early stage. I would be most grateful, Doctor Kanner, if you could ensure that Herr Auger receives fifteen to twenty minutes of suspension daily. The winch is simple to operate but you will obviously need some assistance from the porters.”

“Very good, sir.”

Pallenberg nodded curtly. “Good afternoon, Herr Doctor.”

Recognizing that he had been dismissed, Kanner bowed, and left the room. He descended the stairs in an oddly detached state, somewhat overwhelmed by his encounter with Professor Pallenberg and the unfortunate Herr Auger.

By the time Kanner had reached his office, his mind was occupied by other matters. Before entering the room he looked down the corridor both ways and then quickly slipped inside. He went immediately to his desk, unlocked the bottom drawer, and took out a heavily embroidered sash and apron. The apron bore the image of a temple between two columns that were marked J and B respectively. Kanner quickly stuffed the items into his doctor's bag and closed the hasp. Then, sighing with relief, he looked at his watch.