Characters:
A patient
Pavel Nikoleyavich – a patient
Oleg Kostoglotov – a patient
Lev Leonidovich – a surgeon
Angelica – a nurse
A nurse
Vera Kornilyevna – a doctor
Demka – a patient
Asya – a patient
Scene one
February 1955
Two beds have been set up in the first landing of the stairs from the admitting room to Ward 13.
A man in his sixties sits on the edge of his bed, exhausted, chronic cough soon to rattle its last.
The second bed is empty, but objects present an occupant.
(enter)
Pavel Nikoleyavich, from admissions, carrying bags his family had carried to the double swinging doors, ascends the stairs.
Scene two
March 1955
Oleg stands in the corridor outside a surgeon’s office.
The glass in the door has been painted with heavy white paint.
(enter)
Lev Leonidovich, reading from an overstuffed clipboard, unlocks his office, closes the door, sits at his desk.
Oleg steps to the door, knocks, steps inside, closes the door behind him.
Lev
Yes?
Oleg
Excuse me, Lev Leonidovich, I know you are busy, but there is no one except you can you spare me two minutes?
Lev nods, preoccupied.
Oleg
They are giving me hormone therapy for . . . intramuscular injections of sinestrol . . . the dose is . . . What I want to know is, does the hormone therapy have a cumulative effect or not?
Lev
Well, no, it shouldn’t be.
Oleg
It is very important that I understand. After this series of treatments, will I completely lose my power for . . . well, women . . . or will it only be temporarily? Will my body get rid of the hormones injected into me? Or will they remain forever? Can this hormone therapy be reversed after a given time – by injecting the opposite hormone?
Lev
No, I wouldn’t advise that. You mustn’t . . . Why do you care? I don’t understand.
Oleg
Why don’t you understand? Don’t you understand?
Lev
Listen, surely women aren’t the only attraction in life. You can get awfully tired of all that. It just gets in the way of doing something serious.
Oleg
There is nothing else serious in my life.
(enter)
Angelica in high heels and a close dress.
She places a report on his desk.
Angelica
Look, Ovidienko has a count of twenty thousand.
Lev
What of it? It does not indicate an advanced leucocytosis. He simply has an inflammatory condition, and it will have to be stopped by x-rays.
Angelica leans over the report, presses her shoulder against his arm.
She sees Oleg for the first time.
Lev stops writing, twists his pencil in his fingers.
Oleg
I wanted to ask you another thing, Lev Leonidovich, have you ever heard of the birch-bark mushroom, chaga?
Lev
Yes.
Oleg
How do you feel about it?
Lev
It’s hard to say. I imagine that some local types of tumors respond to it. Stomach tumors, for instance. In Moscow they are going crazy over it. They say that the woods have been picked clean of it for more than a hundred miles around.
Angelica takes the report from the desk and leaves the office.
(exit)
Oleg
Lev Leonidovich, please excuse me if I am tactless. If I am mistaken, forget it. Were you . . . were you where they always sing and dance?
Lev
Yes.
Oleg
Well, what do you know! What was the charge against you?
Lev
No charge, I was a free man. How did you guess?
Oleg
You once used the expression ‘they broke him down’. Another time I think you said ‘camp wife’.
Lev
Habits of speech!
Oleg
Were you there long?
Lev
Three years, I was assigned there after the army, and I couldn’t get out of the assignment.
Oleg
What was your job?
Lev
Head of a medical unit at a camp.
Oleg
You must have managed to graduate the medical institute before the war. How old are you?
Lev
No, when I finished the fourth year I volunteered for medical service in the army without waiting for the final certificate. Did you get this – there?
Oleg
Uh-huh.
Lev
Do you remember his name? Was it Koryakov?
Oleg
I don’t know. It was at a transit camp. This Koryakov – what was he in for?
Lev
He was in because his father had been a colonel in the Czar’s army.
(enter)
A nurse with Japanese eyes, summons Lev.
Lev and Oleg follow her out of the room.
Lev locks his office and follows the nurse.
(exeunt)
Oleg drifts through the hall.
(enter)
Vera Kornilyevna from a private room.
Oleg
Vera Kornilyevna . . .
She looks at him.
Oleg
Vera Kornilyevna . . . don’t you want . . . don’t you want to give me another blood transfusion?
Vera
But you refused transfusions, didn’t you?
Oleg
I liked it the other time, and I want more.
Vera
They might deliver more blood tomorrow.
Oleg
But it has to be you, no one but you. Otherwise I won’t have it.
Vera
If I’m on duty and it works out that way.
(exit)
Vera.
Oleg stands in front of Demka’s door.
Demka’s leg has been amputated.
A napkin covers an apple and some cookies on his bedside table.
Oleg enters Demka’s room.
Demka
Hello, Oleg, sit down and tell me everything. What is happening in the ward?
Oleg
The ward? Everything is the same.
Demka
Is Cadre still there?
Oleg
Cadre is there.
Demka
How is Vadim?
Oleg
Things are not good with Vadim. They have not received the gold. They are afraid of metastases.
Demka
Poor fellow.
Oleg
Be thankful they got your leg in time.
Demka
I could still have metastases.
Oleg
Not very likely. Are they giving you x-rays?
Demka
They wheel me into the x-ray room on a stretcher.
Oleg
Well, friend, now you have a clear road ahead – you will have to get well and learn to use a crutch.
Demka
I’ll need two of them.
Oleg
Where will they make crutches for you? Here?
Demka
In the orthopedic clinic.
Oleg
I hope you get them free of charge.
Demka
I applied for free crutches. What could I pay with?
Oleg
How are you going to finish tenth grade by next year?
Demka
I have to finish or bust.
Oleg
But what will you live on? You won’t be able to stand at a lathe.
Demka
They promised me a disability rating and a pension. It might be the second category, or it might be the third.
Oleg
Third, what’s that?
Demka
That’s the lowest. Enough to keep you in bread, not enough for sugar.
Oleg
What about the university?
Demka
I have to try.
Oleg
The literature course?
Demka
Uh huh.
Oleg
Listen, Demka, forget literature. I mean it. It will be the ruin of you. Learn radio repair – you’ll have less trouble, and you’ll surprise everybody some day.
Demka
To hell with radios. I love truth.
Oleg
Well, you can fix radios – and you can speak the truth, you fool.
Pause
Demka
It looks bad for you.
Oleg
So you wouldn’t want to trade places with me, eh?
Demka
The d-d-devil knows.
Oleg
What’s the first place you’ll go when they discharge you?
Demka
Straight to the zoo. Listen, Oleg, you will be discharged soon, won’t you?
Oleg
Probably. My blood can’t take it. The nausea is getting to me.
Demka
Then you will go to the zoo, won’t you?
Oleg
Yes, I probably shall.
Demka
You must. Please go. And, you know what, write a postcard afterward, will you? It won’t be trouble for you. I’d love it. Write which animals there are now and which are the most interesting. Will you? Then I will know about it a full month before they let me out. Will you go? Will you write me? They say they have crocodiles, and lions . . .
Oleg
I promise.
Oleg leaves the room.
(exit)
Demka stares at the ceiling.
(enter)
Asya, from the wards.
She clutches the lapels of her robe with one hand, knocks on Demka’s door with the other.
She enters his room and closes the door behind her, still clutching her robe.
Demka
Asya, sit down, what is wrong?
Asya sits on the stool at the head of Demka’s bed.
Demka
A-a-senka.
Asya buries her face in his pillow.
Demka
Please, Asenka.
She wails.
Demka
Please, Asenka, tell me what it is. Tell me.
Asya
They will amputate.
Demka
Maybe they won’t. Maybe they won’t have to do it.
Asya cries.
Demka strokes her hand.
Demka
Asenka, maybe they won’t have to.
Asya
No, they scheduled it for Friday. What’s left? Who w-w-wants me now? Who?
She buries her head in the pillow.
Demka
Never mind. You know people marry . . . their eyes meet . . . they like each other, they get along well . . .
Asya
What fool loves you for getting along well?
She starts up, pulls her hand away.
For the first time Demka sees her face.
Asya
Who wants a woman with one breast? Who? At seventeen? How will I go to the beach? The beach. How will I go swimming?
She collapses to the floor, clutches her head.
Demka
You know, if nobody will have you . . . I realize, of course, what I’m like now . . . But I’d always marry you, you know that.
Asya
Listen, Demka. Listen, you’re the last one. You’re the last one who can still see it and kiss it. At least you.
Asya takes off her robe and loosens her night gown.
She bares her right breast, bends close to Demka’s face.
Asya
Kiss it. Kiss it.
Demka kisses her breast.
Asya
Will you remember it? You will remember I had it won’t you? And what it was like?
- End -
©2009, Chris Fillebrown, All Rights Reserved
Cancer Ward
by Aleksandr I Solzhenitsyn
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{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Dear Chris,
Thank you so much for posting this, a pleasure to read it and a pleasure to read the back-story as well on your previous post.
Dear Bonnie,
Thank you for reading my work. I know how busy you are producing the ‘International Poetry Month’ on your blog. I appreciate your taking time out to read my work and to leave a comment. I look forward to reading the posts of your work, and the work of other writers, each day throughout the month of February. I particularly enjoyed the imagery in your latest piece ‘Testimonia’. Keep shining!