PREMATURE DYING DISEASE - CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER ONE:                                                  MARTHA DISCOVERS DPP

Martha longed for just one night's good sleep – for sleep thesedays was preferable to any action.  Peaceful sleep promised some proximity to what she believed she would soon experience.  Death.
She opened her eyes slowly, rubbing them in an effort to not be blinded by the morning sun which seeped in through a crack in her wooden blind.  The rooms tattered rose wallpaper looked like an overgrown garden in the country, miles away from the sound of tooting horns and traffic below the brownstone appartment building.  She pulled the covers up around her face and looked about the untidy bedroom. 
Clothes were pilled high on an old cane chair in the corner of the room - clean washing she had not yet folded or put away.  Some flowers on her dresser were dead and the petals had dropped leaving a stark image of brown sticks supping on the dregs of water.  She looked at the things she hadn't done and realized it would be another day of trying to play catch-up.  It always was lately, with even the most basic of things.

Martha coughed as she dragged herself up from the bed.  She felt like an old woman.  She sniffled as she pulled on a worn purple woolen jacket lying on the bed-end.  She should have closed the heavy red velvet curtains before she went to bed.  Now she had no way of preventing the day from beginning.  How the light really got to her now.  It made the day so long and the night seem like an eternity away.  She wasn’t good at the days.  The time when others toiled she flapped about uselessly, sometimes not even aware she was doing just that.  Uncoordinated. Unprepared. Uninspired.  She endeavored to do what most of us do in our days but with little success. 

This had not always been the case.  She remembered how different her life had been just  6 months ago.  Before she wrote the story.  Before she had the accident.  Before she had nearly got herself killed.  When she got up in the morning then she loved it.  Her routine was well established.  She would jump out of bed, open her heavy curtains and stretch her body savoring a rested sleep.  She would read the paper with a cup of tea, do her yoga, take Dodger for his morning walk and then get ready for work.  Most days she felt invigorated ready for another day at the New Yonkers Times.  She loved her job there because she believed she actually had the power to change things.  That's how it all started really.  Realizing she didn't.  Things were so different now.

It was just after 10am. She had 4 hours sleep last night, better than many nights of late.  Her trusted friend Dodger the black lab X patiently followed her out of the bedroom padding up the long hallway slowly toward the bathroom.  He was waking up too, after a long night looking after his mistress.  He stretched and yawned in sympathy with Martha.  He had sleep in the corners of his eyes and an expression of disinterest.
"I need tea," she said loudly, after washing her face in cold water.  Groggily she stumbled towards the kitchen struggling to remember where she had put the kettle the evening before. That's right she remembered with a shake of her head, she had used it to water her plants.  It must be somewhere close by. She looked at the assortment of dishes and pots that were pilled high in the kitchen sink, and then turned her attention to the floor near where a large Hibiscus plant was placed in front of  the bay window.  Locating the kettle she said,  "Good morning Dodger.  How are you this morning?"  She opened the blind to let some morning sun onto the plant and her favorite pooch thinking that already she was making a huge concession letting that much light into the room.

"Now what was it that I was doing?"  She frequently found herself caught mid stream somewhere forgetting what it was she was trying to do at all.  She was easily distracted.  "That's right!" she said cursing under her breath.  She went to her apartment door and looked out the peak hole.  Good.  Nobody was there.  Slowly she opened the door then checked again just in case.  There was no way she wanted to acknowledge another human being this morning.  She heard footsteps coming up the stairs and quickly grabbed her newspaper, closed the door as silently as possible, and locked it.  She leaned against the safety of the locked door and sighed out loud.  "Phew! That was close Dodge!"

The dog looked up at her hearing his name one ear raised in anticipation.  He wanted to get outside.  Soon enough it would be time for his walk when she had the energy to go outside.  The front-page headline of The New Yonkers Times caught her attention as was intended.  She noticed the by Leon Creeps immediately, the guy who replaced her after she was sacked.  She wasn't able to be very diplomatic whenever she had met up with him. 
"Kidnapped marines become walking time bombs."
That sounds like the sort of stuff Leon wrote.  He liked sensational stuff.  Fires, robberies, murders, any kind of tragedy would do.  But that's pretty much all the paper did these days.  There was practically no investigative journalism.  It wasn't good for advertising.  The idea was to sell papers not expose criminals.  And of course the owner of the newspaper - CJ Trumpet from Megalomania Media - had made his political position very clear to Martha when he bought out the paper two years previously just three months before the presidential election.  She still remembered being called into his office on the 72nd floor and told in no uncertain terms that if she didn't toe the line, talk the company talk and walk the company walk, she would need to be looking elsewhere for a job.  That meant no reporting on investigative stuff especially of a political nature.  He didn't even like the story she did on the Conron debarkle which began the investigation into company funds scams.
Walking time-bombs!  She read out loud and laughed.  That's what I am I reckon.  But I guess these guys didn't choose to be and for some stupid reason I did.  At least it would be quick.  Quick is always preferable.  She looked at the graphic images of charred vehicles and debris much of which she presumed were human remains.  Turning the page in disgust at the fact she had even read this sensational piece she looked elsewhere.  Her attention was drawn to the heading at the top of page three and the story which followed.

Premature Dying Disorder Study Looks for Sufferers
A major research project is hoping to discover why some people are more susceptible to the condition known  as PDD than others and to prove to the medical profession that this disease will reach epidemic proportions before 2020 if a cure is not found.  According to Dr Branko Earnsome, leader of the research study, some 30 million Americans are already affected and worldwide numbers are in the billions.
The study is to take place in 10 cities worldwide targeting a sample of 300,000 known sufferers trialing a new drug designed by Earnsome and drug corporation Rank.  The study hopes to reveal what environmental causes affect PDD, how it manifests and finally over what time span it causes death.  It is the hope of Dr Earnsome and his team that this new drug will fulfill a very real need in the worldwide community.  The project is being conducted in New York, Paris, London, Sydney, Amsterdam, Vienna, Hamburg, Rome, Moscow and the Prague. 
There has been  speculation in the medical profession that only those who suffer from depression were at high risk, but now this risk has substantially increased due to the large numbers being diagnosed with a wide range of depressive illnesses over the past 10 years.  It has become much larger threat than anyone first predicted according to Dr Earnsome.
"The condition" said  Dr Earnsome, "is like living in a wasteland between dying and death.  It leaves sufferers believing that everything in life is futile. From doing normal mundane things  – washing the dishes or making the bed to being able to function professionally or  fulfill ones potential intellectually and spiritually.  "What results is a deep discontent with life and a desire for death," he said. This desire can become fatal as sufferers take their own lives prematurely (or those of others).  For sufferers in the early stages, it's a passive aggressive (controlling) relationship with the world - that seems to be the way it initially manifests," said Dr Earnsome
Martha kept reading attentively.    The article went on to say...
"...our first identified case was now over 10 years ago.  A child of eight became "sick" after watching footage of a documentary about the Holocaust when she learned it had actually happened.  Within two years she had full-blown PDD and by 13 she was bulimic which was eventually the cause of death at 16.  It wasn't until she was near death that a connection was made when she asked her parents.  How could they have let this happen in the world?  A presumption by the consulting physician at the time was that her condition was purely physical in origin - Bulimia - and had no relationship to any psychological un-wellness on the part of the child.  Evidence now confirms this significant  relationship between body/mind/spirit.  There is, as would be expected,  controversy in the broader community, especially the medical community."
Martha lit a cigarette and blew out the smoke in an effort to calm herself.  This sounded all too familiar. She gulped a mouthful of tea while she continued reading. 
"Societal-stigmatization is the result for many undiagnosed sufferers," said Dr Earnsome "and misleading terms like 'Losers' further alienated those who might seek help if given the opportunity to do so. One of the main characteristics of this disease is a repressed anger, which  is barely recognizable anymore as anger.  It's projected as a vacancy or absentmindedness at best and at worst can become volatile and unpredictable behavior capable of causing a great many people harm."
Dr Earnsome believes that for many people symptoms have been diluted to a manageable level with standard medications targeting the depressive side of the condition.  The alchemy of the modern drug culture was in his opinion, masking symptoms but not relieving them.  Sufferers were unable to be clearly diagnosed or really participate in their lives.  In a way they had become robots with no particular desire to live.  He listed the following symptoms noting that 5 out of the 11 was sufficient enough for you to  consider you have PDD and to participate in the study. 
Inability to concentrate and complete more complex tasks
Forgetfulness
Irritability
Irrational outbursts
Talking to oneself
Poor sleep pattern - less than 4 hours with disturbed sleep patterns
Un-coordination
Significant weight loss or gain
Panic attacks and paranoia
Compulsive and obsessive behaviors
Addictive behaviors such as drug, alcohol abuse
Suicide or attempted suicide
Lack of energy and decreased interest in events and people around you
The article had listed a phone number in New York to contact if people were interested in being a part of this research.  Should she participate?  She had been diagnosed as suffering from clinical depression brought on by the loss of her job but the world had changed dramatically for her from a world she felt a part of to one she felt uncomfortable in.  At times it was even terrifying. "What ifs" occupied much of Martha's thinking time these days.  She stumbled through her life living out one world-threatening crisis after another and feeling completely powerless to change anything.  Fear was her constant companion from nightmares about more gruesome terrorist attacks to acid rain destroying the environment.  From the homeless hiding in doorways for shelter begging her to help them to the rich and powerful who had no compunction about walking away from corporations Mum and Dads had invested and lost their life savings in.  She understood how that young girl had felt who had died.  How could we all let stuff like this happen? 
How many symptoms did she have she wondered and then told herself she was being stupid.  It was after all just another drug company and just another drug.

She still could do most things.  Walk dodger sometimes all over the city at all hours of night!  Swim 20 laps of a pool and nearly have a heart attack when she was done.  Cook a nice meal, be funny, and be good company if she remembered she'd invited someone over.  In her mind when she felt her old rational self she just had some days she was ok and other days she was bad.  She had to pick her days when to be with people.  That was all.  The whole world as she knew it was suffering from this PDD disease - but they just didn't realize it she pondered.  She took a cocktail of drugs for her depression and poor sleep pattern, which suppressed about all the feelings she once enjoyed.  Particularly happiness.  These drugs dispersed into every cell of her body leaving her in a no mood zone.  She drank alone.  Sometimes way too much and poured over old stories she had written and won prizes for telling herself she could do it again.  Nights became days and days nights.  She hadn't slept in months.  Who was she kidding? 
"Enough already!" she said out loud.  She would call the number in the paper to register her interest in the study.  Maybe she would find out once and for all if this is what really ailed her and maybe there was a way to actually do something useful like be a part of the cure.  She made the call, ate her breakfast and was preparing to take Dodger out for his morning walk when the phone rang.

"Hello" she said softly into the phone, thinking it was the woman from the research study who she had just spoken too.
"Hi M!" said a cheery voice on the other end.  "Did you see it?" asked the caller.  It was her good MD friend.
"Yes I did Penny, and I'm amazed to be reading about it in the NYT!"  She couldn't resist a dig.
"I know it’s like we were talking about the other night when I was over at your place.  If only they had a cure for it, but this guy Earnsome says that's a possibility, although it will take ages before it becomes available and that's if he can prove the drug works." said Penny.
"I wonder how long it will take the media to really pick up on this one. It could be huge, especially when they find out how many people are suffering worldwide.  Imagine if they do have a cure!"
"Martha I think it would be good for you to get involved?
"I am already Pen.  I signed up for the preliminary screening.  I'm not sure I really have this you know."
"I know.  Which is why it would be worth you doing the study.  You present all the symptoms of depression, but I have noticed you have changed in other ways too."
"Yeah.  Who doesn't when you lose a job, practically lose your apartment and end up still trying to pay medical bills because they cut off your health insurance without telling you."
"We've been through this.  You'll get reinstated.  A friend of mine Will Jackson has already contacted someone he knows at the commission who says that's bullshit.  He said you've paid the premiums all your working life so they can't do this now to you.  It will get sorted you know."
"Did you ask Will what he thinks about this study?"
"Yes I did he rang me this morning.  Mentioned he has worked with the guy who is leading the team of medical researchers you know."
"Oh really.  What did he have to say about him?"  asked Martha.
"Not much.  Said it was all water under the bridge.  Will doesn't like to dredge up the past much.  He try's to stay focused in the present as much as possible since Emma died.  But obviously from his tone they have had dealings and I don't think they were particularly pleasant," replied Penny.
"Interesting.  This guy Earnsome hasn't been around in NY all that long from what I gather.  But he is certainly making a name for himself now.  I want to find out more about him.  Do you think Will might be prepared to see me and answer a few questions?"
"I'm sure he will see you, but don't count on him to answer your questions.  Like I said, he's a pretty private kind of guy -  I would advise you to make it casual.  Tact and diplomacy."
"Here's his number.  He already expects a call from you."

"You know me too dam well Pen!  I am just sniffing that's all.  There might be a story in it," said Martha casually.  "Especially if I am one of the participants."  Martha felt a little squeeze of excitement in her brain.  It had been a long time since she had felt that.  "I'll keep you posted Penny. "
"Ok Martha, you've got it.  We'll speak soon. Bye"
"Mums the word.  See ya."
She put down the receiver and dialed the number her friend had given her.  It would be good to know more about the relationship between Will Jackson MD and Dr Earnsome.  How would their paths ever have crossed?  What were they working on together and when?  What had happened?  She doubted if there was any friendship between them now, although it could be a good move for him to get back into Dr Earnsome's goodbook. This was of course all speculation on Martha's part.

"Good Morning, Dr Jackson's office.  How can I help you?"
"I'd like to speak to Dr Jackson.  He's expecting my call.  My name is Martha Luisinski."
"Just one moment please Ma'am, I'll see if he can take your call."
A couple of moments passed and the receptionist came back. 
"I'll put you on hold again.  He said he could talk to you in a minute or two.  He's just finishing up with a patient."
"That's fine. I'll wait," said Martha in a preoccupied tone.  She was going over the article in the paper for the second time.  A few minutes passed then a polite well-educated southern accent came on line.
"Hi Martha.  Sorry to keep you waiting.  What can I do for you?"
"Oh..." said Martha surprised by the interruption to her reading, "Hi Dr Jackson."
"Please call me Will.  Penny and I are old buddies and so are you two from what I hear."
"Yes we go back awhile.  Look, I wondered if we could have a talk about something I'm investigating at the moment.  I think you could be a big help."
There was a noticeable pause in the conversation.  He wasn't sure how to respond thought Martha, so she intervened.
"I thought lunch maybe, downtown.  I am curious to learn more about a condition I think I am afflicted with and many other people.  I believe you might be able to help."
"If you want a professional consultation - sure, by all means, make an appointment and come in and see me.  But somehow I don't think that's what you want?" he asked then question and then answered it himself.
"I have a feeling you want to pick my brains, and that Martha always makes me feel slightly uneasy."
Martha chuckled to herself down the receiver. 
"No not exactly picking.  More like the odd peck," she laughed.  (Penny had obviously told him a little about her) " I just would like to throw a few ideas around with you for a possible story I am thinking of writing."
"That's right.  You're the journalist.  Penny has told me about you.  OK when do want to meet?" he asked a little cautiously.
"What works for you time wise," asked Martha softly.
"Lunch usually doesn't happen for me these days so let me take a look at my schedule.  Nope.  No spaces I'm afraid.  Evenings don't work either.  I have kids you see.  We all cook at home usually and I like to keep home and work very separate nowadays."
"Oh I understand.  But that's disappointing, I really did want to talk to you," replied Martha thinking maybe dinner might work better for both of them if he ever took a night off!  And then again he sounded like he might be just too hard to pin down.
"Just a moment will you Martha.  I think I might have a window on the 12th.  My sister is taking the kids to Disneyland then for 3 days so yes, an evening there might work," he said triumphantly.
"Great. Where and when suits you?" she said a little surprised.
"How about the West Lake in Chinatown? Say 8pm on Friday 13th?" he said smoothly.  "I hope you're not superstitious Martha."
"No, of course not.  But I do place stock in fortune cookies!" she said pencilling him into her diary.  "Oh, but how will I recognize you?" she asked.
"I'll get there a little earlier and tell the wait staff I am expecting you.  It's one of my old haunts.  They know me well there and will bring you straight over."
"Fine.  Then we're organized and I have you in my day-planner.  Thanks very much for taking the time," she said graciously.
"I shall look forward to meeting you then.  Bye Martha.  Take care now," he said. 

She found it odd that he had asked someone he had never met to take care.  Take care to not get herself in hot water or what?  Maybe he was just being friendly, because of Penny.  It would be interesting to see what this guy had to say.  Martha needed to do some hunting now before she met Dr Will Jackson.