Exponential Nostril Death (Part One)

Before his rise to notoriety in quasi-cosmetic fields, Dr Rudolph was a well-respected, if little-liked clinician in a provincial teaching hospital some fifteen miles outside Hamburg. His reputation, though local, was one of jealous professionalism and an insect-like attention to detail, but also, and perhaps as significantly (though only ever spoken of in hushed tones), was one of not-entirely-infrequent, shockingly cavalier and, in the words of one former colleague, “scarcely human” plunges beyond the accepted cutting edge, as it were, of medical pioneering endeavour. A case in point, an early indicator, if you will, of his extrapolation of the aforesaid traits in later years, would be the case of a young woman who came one early April day to the clinic, complaining of intermittent but profuse nose bleeds.

It was a fairly docile morning, quiet enough that patients could sit at least three seats apart from each other in the waiting room. Dr Rudolph was perusing patient files, his customary leisure activity on such mornings, and glancing up at intervals, assessing the human contents of the waiting room. None held his attention until the patient in question – we’ll call her Claire – arrived at around 11:30, clutching a handkerchief to her face. She was already sitting down when Dr Rudolph looked up from his literature. Even then he had a tremendous enthusiasm for facial afflictions of most kinds, but what most drew him to Claire was the apparent purity of her skin, and to a degree the flesh of her thighs. He put away the patient files and made his way across the room.

Introductions were polite and formal, and Dr Rudolph led Claire fairly promptly to a consulting room. He performed his standard full gynaecological examination, and a colonoscopy for safety’s sake, all the while dictating detailed notes into his machine. The usual perfunctory measurements were taken, as well as blood samples for various indeterminate tests. In due course, he turned his attention to Claire’s nose, observing it from a number of angles, some requiring a degree of contortion on his part. A trickle of blood began very slowly to flow, gathering a little pace upon rounding the cusp of her upper lip. Dr Rudolph inserted a gloved little finger a short way into Claire’s left nostril, and licked the resultant smear, as if to determine the direction taken by a herd of bison. He made a short humming sound, and then informed Claire that, and he stressed that it was merely precautionary, she must, in his professional opinion, stay overnight for observation. She was somewhat surprised at this as, nose bleeds aside, she felt a picture of health. She assented, however, as one must always trust a doctor. He made the necessary arrangements and told Claire, with a reassuring smile not reflected in eyes, that he would look in on her some time in the late afternoon, around teatime, as they say in Hamburg.