A tear ran down my face as I walked across the lawn of Salford University. I was so proud of myself like you wouldn't believe. Happy as a pig shit. King of the world with an imaginary shield of honour tattooed across my chest.
I had just finished a Bachelor of Medicine and was ready to cure the world with a stethoscope around my neck and a name badge that read Dr. Joanne Winter. I had passed over one hundred gruelling examinations, mastered the art of doctor-patient relationships, and extracted vital organs from those who so generously donated themselves to science.
When I looked at my chosen profession, I slept with a warm heart, knowing that all business undertaken at my end was of an honourable nature. However, there was always an itch amongst this feeling of content, a distant thought of what impact I could really have, if only I was involved in the first stage of people's lives. As a doctor, I was there for the last stage, when everything had gone wrong and advice was sought to remedy a situation turned bad. But I was not taught to think, only to follow a process of elimination in order to advise and prescribe medicine. I continually questioned this line of thought in my six years pacing the walls of Salford, knowing that a new and modern line of enquiry was needed to tackle twenty-first century issues.
I could see the look of contempt in my lecturer’s eyes when I rose my hand in philosophy classes and voiced my opinion. It was the notion of change and the daunting prospect of seeing things from a different angle that pissed them off. In some classes, we still used textbooks and copied from a blackboard. I was proud of my achievement though. Still with a tear on my cheek, still happy as a pig shit, and that shield forever etched on my chest.
Now that all the exams and lectures were said and done, I had a new goal yet to be articulated. Perhaps to look at medicine from a different angle, or even restructure the very way medicine is practiced in the western world? I didn't think about it anymore than that, as I always thought that a sustained attitude lasted longer than a simple goal statement written on paper.
I was late for a meeting with Professor Susie Wallace who oversaw all major action research projects in the medicine faculty. This would be a ‘tell you how it is’ meeting rather than a discussion between adults. Medicine was a culture made of concrete, a world unto itself with an entrenched image. To defy logic and mathematical reasoning was to criticise the very foundations of a pre-eminent culture. The white coat and stethoscope symbolised help when in need and was a rock steady image branded into our psyches. Leave well enough alone was the unspoken mantra. I intended to change that, however that would unfold.
Our meeting was scheduled for 2pm in Susie’s office. Some called her Professor, others called her Professor Wallace. I just called her plain old Susie as she never publicly stated her esteemed title.
I knocked twice with a tight fist. No answer. I waited, staring at my toes, contemplating the thought of a second knock. The door opened and I saw those blue mystical eyes. I'd been invited so I used her proper title.
“Good Morning Professor, I mean Susie.”
She chuckled, knowing that I'd reverted back to my true self in a tense situation. This showed true character, at least I thought so.
She stood there for a few seconds in her navy blue business suit and took a deep breath. Susie always looked the part and took pride in her appearance at work. She even made a white coat look good, always leaving the first few buttons undone to reveal her inner linings. The Professor had short cut blonde hair and wore little makeup. She was a mirror image of me 30 years older.
“Come in my dear. Sorry I haven't invited you beforehand. I usually wait for my students to invite themselves, but seeing as you're the elusive type I thought I'd make it formal,” she said.
I decided to be my natural self. I didn't know any other way to act.
“No worries,” I said with a slight nod.
I sat down next to her desk and crossed my legs, rubbing my hands up and down my thighs. All the time, Susie was scourging through her emails, looking up and down the computer screen with her reading glasses on the end of her nose. She stopped and read intently for about a minute. My hands grew moist and my back ached. I could hear my own breath, and felt my diaphragm weaning from the pressure of an authority figure only thirty centimetres from me. Even though she was only reading, her innate power pinned me to the back of my seat, withering in her office from the heat. I hated being there. ‘Get me the fuck out’ was all I could think of, but that's how I always think when the pressure is on, then I tackle the world and its problems and come through the other side. I guess she knew that already, probably why she invited me in the first place.
“Do you remember that paper you submitted twelve months ago on the placebo effect on drug addiction?”
“I do. I was the only one who chose that assignment. I never received any feedback though.”
“Indeed. I sent it to Harvard University for a second look.”
“A second look? Why?”
“Because that's what we do sometimes. If we catch a theory not yet in circulation, we distribute that idea for debate.”
“Fair enough,” I replied.
“Do you really think you could pull this off?” she asked pointing to my assignment in an email attachment.
“The placebo effect is well documented,” I replied.
“Yes I know but living on the streets with addicts?”
“Why wait until they come to us?” I replied.
She took off her glasses and showed me her bright blue eyes. It was like taking off a mask of some sort. I could see her admiration. I could see her true wishes and intent. She could see mine.
“So why did you wait until now to talk to me about this?” I asked.
“Now that you're a doctor I can give you choices. This is but one.”
The suspense was fucking killing me.
“The United States has a massive drug problem, and so does Manchester,” she said. “That's why Harvard were so interested in your assignment. The feedback from them was ‘no comment’ until an action research project could be undertaken. However, the Dean did offer his congratulations for a project well outlined and a sound hypothesis thrown into the light.”
She paused then continued.
“We in Manchester, as you know have a massive Heroin problem on our streets, just about on par with the United States. So now that you're a doctor and you can prescribe pain killers, morphine and alike, you're in a good position to undertake this project. Don't tell me you're going to take an office job in central London and give out medical certificates?” she asked.
“No fuc…I mean, no way,” I replied.
I was one of the very few that defied the status quo in my course, being different because I wanted it that way. I almost got kicked out a few times for walking out half way through a heated debate, slamming the door with a sassy look on my face. Pretty sure it was Susie who saved my ass. I could tell by the way she looked at me in the halls the day after.
“I've read your paper several times. Can you give me a summary in case I've missed any of the details?” she asked.
“I’ll live on the streets for a month disguised as a homeless addict. I befriend an addict who is an inherent user and offer them uppers. The pills will contain the maximum dosage allowed under controlled circumstances.”
“Double it. That won't be enough,” she replied.
I already knew that and nodded with thanks.
“Then with these new concentrated pills in hand I hit the streets and befriend addicts. I give uppers to one and sugar pills to the others. These people will be the control. The pills will be administered at the same time with all present. My theory is that both groups will show effects. The first subject aided solely by upper hits, and the remainder because they simply think they took the real thing.”
“And what will this prove?” she asked.
“It’s step one in a bigger picture. If this is well documented, the possibilities are endless. Perhaps even a placebo that cures cancer or alike, simply made from sugar.”
The Professor paused and took off her glasses.
“Remember, this will be the very first experiment undertaken on the streets to determine the effect of placebo pills on drug addicts. If it works, you'll rock the scientific world. What that looks like, only time will tell.”
“And a new era of medicine will emerge,” I replied with a smile.
“Indeed, but if you succeed, don't expect the pharmaceutical companies to be happy about it. Drugs for rehab are big business, let alone to treat depression and alike. If you succeed, your battle will have only just begun.”
Holy fuck, I thought to myself. These companies are like ‘Wise Guys’. They have so much money like you wouldn't believe, and would protect their investment. Anyway, I had to succeed at the ground level first. I'd worry about that later.
“I'll need support out there, can I count on you?” I asked.
“Call me night or day. I can bring anything you need within reason.”
Susie adjusted her seat positioning.
“Also, you'll need to push the boundaries on this one. Perhaps even break the law to reach an outcome, to try drugs, steal food, and do whatever they do. You'll need to gain their trust. It won't be easy,” she said.
I felt like 007 talking to Ma'am at headquarters.
“Well, you wanted to change the face of medicine, you were the one who rocked the status quo of my halls, now get out there and change some lives,” said Susie with her eyebrows upturned.
The mission was simple: give one addict uppers and the other sugar pills and record the findings. Then prove to the world how powerful the brain really is, and dispel the myth that medicine is always the answer. As you think, so shall you become.
As I walked out the main entrance, I pointed to the sky and said something clever. At last, I felt the obligation to adhere to men in white coats slowly drift into the afternoon sky. I had been asked to test the very foundation of science by questioning the role that medicine played in the healing process. My purpose was to prove science wrong, but in the process, I still had to follow a method that could make sense to the scientific world. I had to use their tools to carve a new beginning, to undo a means to an end. Would they be happy? I think not. I'd be lucky to walk away from this with my life. Simply attempting this kind of venture could spark a rift in the pharmaceutical industry. They had the money and power to make me disappear for good. The road less travelled never seemed so daunting.
