The unknown patient was still staring at the ceiling as Dr Zhang entered the room. She picked up the clipboard hanging from the end of the bed, consulting it for any new information. They had spent the last 24 hours running a battery of tests: X-rays, MRI scans, blood analysis, anything that might give some clue as to the still unknown’s patient’s condition.
But everything came back normal. Nothing unusual in any of scans, which ought to rule out organic cerebral issues, blood chemistry consistent with someone who had been unconscious for a few days, laying in the woods behind the pharmacy where he was found. Pupils continue to be normally responsive, despite the lack of blinking.
“Who are you?” Ellen Zhang asked her John Doe aloud. “What’s your story? You brain is active, very active in fact – like a persistent dream state – but you have no cerebro-energetic reactions to stimuli, so you clearly aren’t aware of the world around you. Your autonomics and associated reactives continue to function – again, apart from your lack of nictitation. Maybe if we could find out who you are we could assess environmental causes, but for now, I’m stumped!”
Dr. Zhang dropped into the chair beside the bed and regarded her patient. There was something about this one, perhaps the way he was found, as if the man was a piece of human trash jettisoned from society. Maybe John Doe himself had come to believe that. Or maybe something else was going on that she couldn’t understand.
It was maddening.
She took a deep breath to relax. She needed more information. With cases like this, someone almost always turned up to identify and claim the John Doe – and once they did, she would be able to send her juniors to investigate the man’s previous environment. Maybe this whole thing would turn out to be caused by some unusual mold spores, somehow. For now, Dr. Zhang told herself, she had to be patient. The man had been there for less than 72 hours, and sometimes it took days or weeks for relatives to notice someone missing and to check the local hospitals. She had to be patient.
Dr. Zhang stood up and walked to the opposite wall, pulling out her cell phone – she might as well order dinner in, as she was going to be working on several new inpatient cases for quite some time yet. “Domino’s?” she said, “I’d like to order a personal pizza and a two liter of Coke.”
A sudden noise from the patient behind her startled her, and she whirled around. The John Doe was saying something, his eyes still focused on some infinity past the ceiling.
Forgetting all about her phone, the doctor dashed to his side, and placed her ear to his mouth to hear better what the man was croaking out.
“…Domino… …Domino… …Domino…”
Then the man for the first time closed his eyes and lapsed into silence.
Dr. Zhang hit the alarm to get some orderlies in the room, and began to try anything she could to rouse the patient again, but as a flurry of activity erupted around the John Doe, he was again utterly unresponsive.
They continued their attempts for some time.