first of all, I had a hard time, a very hard time
locating the parking lot for the building.
wasn’t off the main boulevard where
the cars all driven by merciless killers
were doing 55 mph in a 25 mph zone.
the man riding my bumper so
close I could see his snarling face
in my rearview mirror caused me
to miss the narrow alley that would have
allowed me to circle the west
end of the building in search of parking.
went to the next street, took a right, then
took another right, spotted the building, a blue
heartless-looking structure, then took
another right and finally saw it, a tiny
sign: parking.
drove in.
the guard had the wooden red and white
barrier down.
he stuck his head out a little window.
yeah?” he asked.
he looked like a retired hit man.
to see Dr. Manx,” I said.
he looked at me disdainfully, then said,
go ahead!”
the red and white barrier lifted.
drove in,
drove around and around.
finally found a parking spot a good distance away,
football field away.
walked in.
finally found the entrance and the elevator
and the floor
and then the office number.
walked in.
the waiting room was full.
there was an old lady talking to the
receptionist.
but can’t I see him now?”
Mrs. Miller, you are here at the right time
but on the wrong day.
this is Wednesday, you’ll have to come
back Friday.”
but I took a cab. I’m an old lady, I have almost
no money, can’t I see him now?”
Mrs. Miller, I’m sorry but your appointment
is on Friday, you’ll have to come back
then.”
Mrs. Miller turned away: unwanted,
old and poor, she walked to the
door.
stepped up smartly, informed them who I was.
was told to sit down and wait.
sat with the others.
then I noticed the magazine rack.
walked over and looked at the magazines.
was odd: they weren’t of recent
vintage: in fact, all of them were over a
year old.
sat back down.
30 minutes passed.
45 minutes passed.
an hour passed.
the man next to me spoke:
I’ve be en waiting an hour and a half,” he
said.
that’s hell,” I said, “they shouldn’t do that!”
he didn’t reply.
just then the receptionist called my
name.
got up and told her that the other man had
been waiting an hour and a half.
she acted as if she hadn’t heard.
please follow me,” she said.
followed her down a dark hall, then she
opened a door, pointed. “in there,” she said.
walked in and she closed the door behind me.
sat down and looked at a map of
the human body hanging from the wall.
could see the veins, the heart, the
intestines, all that.
was cold in there and dark, darker
than in the hall.
waited maybe 15 minutes before the door
opened.
was Dr. Manx.
he was followed by a tired-looking young lady
in a white gown; she held a clipboard;
she looked depressed.
well, now,” said Dr. Manx, “what is it?”
it’s my leg,” I said.
saw the lady writing on the clipboard.
she wrote LEG.
what is it about the leg?” asked the Dr.
it hurts,” I said.
PAIN wrote the lady.
then she saw me looking at the clipboard and
turned away.
did you fill out the form they gave you at
the desk?” the Dr. asked.
they didn’t give me a form,” I said.
Florence,” he said, “give him a form.”
Florence pulled a form out from her
clipboard, handed it to me.
fill that out,” said Dr. Manx, “we’ll be right
back.”
then they were gone and I worked at the
form.
was the usual: name, address, phone,
employer, relatives, etc.
there was also a long list of questions.
marked them all “no.”
then I sat there.
20 minutes passed.
then they were back.
the doctor began twisting my leg.
it’s the right leg,” I said.
oh,” he said.
Florence wrote something on her
clipboard.
probably RIGHT LEG.
he switched to the right leg.
does that hurt?”
a little.”
not real bad?”
no.”
does this hurt?”
a little.”
not real bad?”
well, the whole leg hurts but when
you do that, it hurts more.”
but not real bad?”
what’s real bad?”
like you can’t stand on it.”
can stand on it.”
hmmm... stand up!”
all right.”
now, rock on your toes, back and
forth, back and forth.”
did.
hurt real bad?” he asked.
just medium.”
you know what?” Dr. Manx asked.
no.”
we’ve got a Mystery Leg here!”
Florence wrote something on the
clipboard.
have?”
yes, I don’t know yet what’s wrong with
it.
want you to come back in 30 days.”
30 days?”
yes, and stop at the desk on your
way out, see the girl.”
then they walked out.
at the checkout desk there was a long
row of bottles waiting, white bottles with
bright orange labels.
the girl at the desk looked at me.
take 4 of those bottles.”
did.
she didn’t offer me a bag so I stuck
them in my pockets.
that’ll be $143,” she said.
“$143?” I asked.
it’s for the pills,” she said.
pulled out my credit card.
oh, we don’t take credit cards,” she told
me.
but I don’t have that much money on
me.”
how much do you have?”
looked in my wallet.
23 dollars.”
we’ll take that and bill you for the
rest.”
handed her the money.
see you in 30 days,” she smiled.
walked out and into the waiting room.
the man who had been waiting an hour and
half was still there.
walked out into the hall, found the
elevator.
then I was on the first floor and out
into the parking lot.
my car was still a football field
away
and my right leg began to hurt like hell,
after all that twisting Dr.
Manx had done to it.
moved slowly to my car, got in.
started and soon I was out on the
boulevard again.
the 4 bottles of pills bulged painfully in my
pockets as I drove along.
now I only had one problem left, I had
to tell my wife
had a Mystery Leg.
could hear her already:
what? you mean he couldn’t tell
you what was wrong with your
leg?
what do you mean, he didn’t
know?
and what are those PILLS?
here, let me see those!”
as I dro ve along, I switched on the
radio in search of some soothing
music.
there wasn’t any.
Other works by Charles Bukowski...
