Dr Pettit had a reputation as the smartest guy in town. When I started to get sick, he sent me to a professor at the U of O Med School, a researcher, whom he said was the smartest guy he'd ever known. It was a riot. This guy was most definitely disconnected from the ordinary. I never wrote down the encounter, but I should have. It was incredible. For the first few minutes, while he talked, he padded his desk mounds down for his glasses (in his labcoat); couldn't get the blinds up (couldn't get them to stay, tried three times and gave up ~ and I mean, he must, must, have done this before); couldn't remember where the light switch was on his x-ray viewing light panel, kept rubbing the sides alternately (it was on the bottom); realized when he got it on, he had set my x-rays on the lab-island hot plate, and let out a little yelp (it wasn't on, but I could tell he didn't know); couldn't get them to stick under the flap (so I just held them for him); and several other things I'll have to ask MJ if she remembers.
He told me: "Hodgkins hurts." |
