Home By Marquel Mad Science

Mad Science

[embedyt]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3fx6TugN7g[/embedyt]Marquel, TPVs NYTimes Super Glue Section correspondent, was sleeping when he remembered he forgot to read the Times and he woke up and read Electrical Scalp Device Can Slow Progression of Deadly Brain Tumors.  An electrical device glued to the scalp can slow cancer growth and prolong survival in people with the deadliest type of brain tumor, glioblastoma, researchers have found. Marquel was truly impressed by this, as he is of all medical research. It’s just amazing. This one in particular. Aside from the discovery itself, who would have thought of gluing wires to a patients head? And what patient would allow it to happen?

Marquel wondered whether it was Duco plastic cement, for building model airplanes, or plain old Elmer’s, or epoxy, or, God forbid, plain old super glue, the kind you have to go to the hospital for when you’re fingers stick together.

Marquel went up to Columbia Presbyterian and asked the doctors in charge.

“How’d you get this idea of actually gluing the wires to the patients head?” I asked. “I would have imagined something much more sophisticated. Something implanted maybe, or radiated, or at least something subcutaneous and relatively permanent. But glue!? I’m amazed.”

The doctor suddenly seemed distracted and uncomfortable. “It’s a long story. As is true of many inventions, it was almost accidental.”

“So what inspired you to just glue some wires to a sick person’s head?” I asked.

He blushed. “I didn’t come up with that idea,” he answered.

“Well, then, who did?” I asked.

“Well,” he stopped as if he were finished. Then he continued, “It was a guy named Nunzio.”

“Is Nunzio on the research team?” I asked, still impressed by modern medicine.

“No, actually now he’s unemployed.” He said.

“On that’s too bad. You must miss him.”

“He was in some ways more trouble than he’s worth.” He said.

“How can you say that? He invented a partial cure for brain cancer when nobody else had a clue!” I exclaimed.

“Well really Nunzio was only an orderly, and he’s been fired for misconduct.” He said.

“What was it?” Asked I, “drugs, alcohol, women, men?”

“No. Late at night he would wander the wards and…Well, I don’t know how to explain it, but he fooled around.” He said.

“He didn’t turn off iv’s did he?” I asked.

“Oh, no. He’s a gentle man. Wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

“And now he’s saved thousands,” I said, trying to boost his image even though I’d yet to meet him.

It seemed something caught in his throat, but he eventually agreed, perhaps reluctantly. “Uh, yes, that’s so.”

“So I still don’t understand how even Nunzio came up with this unique method of gluing wires to the patients’ heads.” I said.

“That’s because you don’t know Nunzio. He glued everything to patients.” He complained.

“What do you mean everything?” I asked.

“Everything. He’d glue a patient’s glasses to their feet, the water pitcher to their shoulders, power chords to their stomachs.” He said.

“Why? And why didn’t you stop it?” I asked.

“You have to understand this went on for two years. Every so often we’d find a patient stuck to something. Or something stuck to a patient. We didn’t know who could be doing it or why. We had investigators, closed circuit tv. He was canny.” He asserted.

“So how’d you find him and how did he come up with the cure?” I asked.

“It was inevitable. Eventually he’d glue something other than old hypodermic and pill bottles to the patients’ heads. It was sometime in June. He glued the wires from a stimulator to a brain cancer patient’s scalp. We were taking things off of people’s bodies as fast as they were discovered. And believe me he didn’t skip any part of the anatomy. Some were mighty hard to explain to the patients.”

“So you took this off too?” I asked.

“As soon as we noticed it. But when his daily results came back, the difference was phenomenal. A little thought was all it took. We’d done nothing to this patient for a month. Suddenly he’s got wires on his head and his signs elevate. We couldn’t ignore it.” He asserted.

“So you just put the wires back on?” I asked.

“No we couldn’t take the chance. When we announced that whoever was gluing things had cured a patient, Nunzio came forward and confessed. We had to ask him to do it again exactly as he did before. We videoed it. Then we fired him.” He said.

“Don’t you think that was harsh…and also ill advised? Maybe he’d discover something else.” I asked.

 “Well put your self in the place of these patients awakening with foreign objects glued to their organs. And remember, he didn’t miss an organ. How’d you like to be that guy?” He asked.

“I guess it depends on whether it cured ED, I guess.” I ventured.

“Wrong,” he corrected me. “If I remember correctly that time he glued on a portable breath monitor. Even if it had cured ED, the cure would have been moot, right?” He questioned. “Not much you can do with that breath monitor stuck there.”

“I see your point,” I said, “but couldn’t I meet Nunzio?”

“Sure he’s in the hospital somewhere.” He said.

“I thought he was fired,” I said.

“Now he’s a patient. On the ninth floor.” He said.

“How will I recognize him?” I asked.

“You can’t miss him.” He said.

I walked into the ninth and there were a lot of sick people. I’d never even asked what he was suffering from. Then I saw him. His hands looked like fish fins. All the fingers were fused. He had a frying pan stuck to his back, a portable nose clipper on his forehead, a bed pan glued to each foot, and something in his pants I didn’t want to identify. I looked at him. The inventor of a spectacular therapy. No longer accepted by society. I decided I’d call him Galileo, and then left.


BY MARQUEL: Mad Science


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