Prologue
Letter to Dr Ludwig van Hermann:
“Washington, White House, Friday, 14th February 1992.
Dear Dr Ludwig van Hermann,
I am writing to inform you, sir, that your request to establish a care centre in the city of Ashfort-Kingsport has been approved. I have looked to ensure that your request has been met to the maximum. Everything you have asked for in pursuit of finding the cure for necrosis will not go in vain. I made sure of that myself, that the centre is equipped with all the resources you have asked for – I hope you will find everything to your satisfaction.
I must say you have surprised me. A man of altruism and kindness, now becoming a director of an institute of health? And to even research a power so deadly that a human body dies at a rate faster than Rabies. Why take up the burden of trying to find a cure for necrosis?
Myself have pondered this, how does one research the cure for this irreversible fate we all call death? What irreversible fate will necrosis bring to anyone unfortunate enough to come into its grasp? But I shall not pester you more about it. I have no mind of a doctor and researcher.
With this letter, you can find the key to the care centre. I hope it will meet your hospitality needs. The care centre is located in the centre of Ashfort-Kingsport city. In the massive Central Park. I have ordered it to be built spacious and large. Additionally, I made sure that the park is large enough to drown out all the hustle and bustle of the city around it. I did this in mind of the patients you will be treating, and to your research come to be a great success.
Yours truly,
President of the USA.
P.S. I hate how formal I sound...Ludwig, I miss you man. I hope you are safe, and doing well. I miss you bud.”
Letter to the President of the USA:
“Ashfort-Kingsport, Care Centre, Central Ashfort-Kingsport Park, Saturday 15th February 1992.
Dear Mr President,
I am very thankful that you have agreed to my request and so generously granted me so much space and funding to conduct my research. The care centre has met my demands and, secretly, has surpassed my expectations. I never expected that you, sir, would have ever put in so much care and respect for my research, and how you would care for the well-being of my patients.
I am glad for this. I cannot thank you enough. Matter of fact, I do not have words to describe how much I am in awe of the equipment you have supplied me with. Please, sir, know that my research shall never be in vain. I will strive with an intent to cure the disgusting scum we call necrosis. I have declared war upon that disease, and I shall deliver my results.
Please forgive my profanities. But I cannot dare to think of how many people have lost their lives while fighting the disease, and how many patients were left amputees in an attempt to save them from the ultimate fate.
I pray my research will bring the fruit of success. And that the time and money you have invested in this will not go to waste.
Well, time for me to go. I have to prepare the centre for the new arrivals to come.
At your service,
Dr Ludwig van Hermann.
P.S. Peter, you make me smile and laugh with that ending - but there is nothing you can do mate. But I couldn't care if you used my real name and a little informalities...right?”
April 1987, Sydney, Australia:
On Saturday, 11th of 1987 April, St Mary’s and John’s Hospital, Sydney, Australia. A patient was rushed into the ER. Hermann looked at the patient’s appearance, and his hands fell. The patient’s left hand had two punctures in the palm – the area around the bite was black. “What...what...what happened?” he was only able to mumble out the question before he snapped out of his astonishment and moved to the patient’s side. The assisting paramedic looked at him and answered, “This man was bitten by a Red-bellied Black Snake. The site of the bite is on the palm. We need to do something, sir...any suggestions?”
The paramedics stopped and looked at Hermann, who was gently holding the patient’s hand. Slowly, but surely, the necrotic effect of the venom was making its mark. “There is no cure...but we can slow down the progression of this venom. What snake was it?” he asked in a calm voice, his eyes locked on the bite. In them was sympathy, tenderness and unsatiated curiosity. “The Red-bellied Black Snake, sir,” the paramedic answered once more. Hermann nodded and looked at a nurse, “150ml of antivenom for the Red-bellied Black snake venom. STAT.” then he turned to the patient and said, “Don’t worry sir, you will be fine. But the damage done to your hand is going to be looked at by me in more depth later. Okay?” his voice was calm, kind, and warm.
Like the voice of a father talking to a child. “Report back to me when the patient improves. Keep him overnight for observations if the necrotic process does indeed spread. I want to be notified immediately,” he said as the nurse returned with a syringe, injecting it into the patient’s IV bag. “150ml of Antivenom going in, now,” she said, then looked at the doctor and nodded, “I will notify you if there are any changes, sir.” She smiled at him. Hermann nodded, turned and walked away.
His footsteps were calm, his gait stable; he moved with purpose. But now he was retiring to his study to find ways he can help his patient. There were thousands of questions spinning through his head, overwhelmingly loud. “How am I meant to save him?” was the question that made a continuous comeback upon Hermann’s lips. He sat down in his chair, behind his desk. He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. “What should I do?” he muttered “What should I do? How should I help him?” but nothing came to him.
As night came and went the patient’s state was getting better, yet the necrotic bite lingered. It lingered and festered. And fester it will if Ludwig won’t do something soon. On this faithful day, Hermann came to visit his patient, the monitor showed a flatline. There was no pulse, no breathing. Nothing.
Dr Ludwig van Hermann, lost his 15th patient in his whole 28 year long career as a health practitioner. A nurse walked in, the same one from yesterday – when she saw the monitor and the doctors grim look, she gasped. “I’m so sorry sir...I just stepped out for a moment, he was-” but Hermann stopped her. “How long ago did you see him?” his voice was calm, not angry – just pained and sad. “3 minutes ago, sir, there was no alerts. Nothing that would show he was dying. He was stable...I don’t understand.” she said. Ludwig nodded. “Which means he died just now. Was he sleeping?” he looked at the nurse. “Yes, he was sleeping...but how does this have to do-” but he stopped her. “He passed away in his sleep...my guess is that he was allergic to the ingredients in the antivenom we gave him yesterday. He passed away in his sleep, feeling no pain...”
Ludwig looked down at his watch “Time of death, Saturday 11th April 1987, 07:45 am... St Mary’s and St John’s Hospital, Sydney, Australia.” he said in a sad tone. He was one of those doctors who couldn’t stand to bare the death of their patients, and calling this death was one too many now. He sighed. “I think after 28 years of being a doctor and surgeon, I lost only 15 patients. Imagine that?” he walked over to the patient’s bed and pulled the covers over his head. “Rest now, sir, may your soul be free.” he said, then walked out, making his way back to his study.
Diary entry, Dr Ludwig van Hermann:
“Sunday 12th April 1987, 07:50 am,
Dear Diary,
Today I failed my 15th patient. Yesterday a man of early 20s was admitted into my care. He was bitten by a Red-bellied Black snake – the effect of the bite was small, only 2 cm in diameter from the area of the bite. The patient was administered antivenom at 14:18 pm the patient appeared to be stable. After closer examination, there was one way to treat and stop the spread of the necrotic tissue.
After 3 hours, at 5:20 pm, a lab report came back to me with the result for the optimum skin and living tissue transplant to replace the dead tissue – the most optimum spot was from the right thigh. I planned to operate in the morning, when I was making my way to inform my patient of the great news, I found him dead.
The sight of my patient dead broke me...reminding me of my first failure. The first time I failed to save a dying child. Back when I was stationed with the Red Cross in Niger. I lost my first patient to cancer. That day still haunts me to this day. But it was so long ago. I was young and stupid and inexperienced – I should’ve waited for my mentor...for someone who was better skilled at the surgery. I failed the patient, I failed myself, and I failed the family I promised to keep their son alive.
I think it is time to return back home. Back to the US. And then...I think it is time to finally start focusing on the question that has stayed rooted in my mind from the time I became a doctor... ‘How can I stop death? How can I slow its icy grasp on anyone?’ I’m done stalling, I learned all I can, and now I am ready to undertake my goal to find a cure and stop tissue death...or even pull people away from death's grip. I hope I will succeed...
Signed,
Dr Ludwig van Hermann.”
