Assasination of Passion

By 1995, Arthur had changed. On the surface, you couldn’t notice the change. In fact, the change was so subtle, Arthur hadn’t noticed it himself. Almost twenty years of praise and adulation from patients, family, and community leaders had begun to leave Arthur with little tolerance for any criticism at all. His inner third grader had begun to assert himself as never before. The problem with flattery is that eventually you begin to believe it. You begin to believe, for example, that patients are privileged and fortunate to be in your practice. You begin to believe that everything you do is perfect, or so nearly perfect, that any problems that develop after your treatment were inevitable and would have occurred no matter who provided the care; or more likely, it was the patients failure to follow post op instructions that caused the problem.

Arthur’s inner third grader over the years had developed something completely out of character for Arthur: a sarcastic whit. As part of his personal development, Arthur had joined Toastmasters of America to aid him in the many professional speaking invitations he received from study clubs and academies. He had become quiet a “words-man,” and he added “Powerful Speaker” to his already considerable list of attributes. At times, he used his power on patients and staff in ways that were very entertaining to others present at the time, but sometimes disempowering and degrading to the object of his wit. There was a time when his sensitivity to the feelings of his patients would have alerted him immediately. However, he had reached a point where his self-absorption was so great that he hardly noticed, or he assumed they would get over it, even if he did.

Somehow, Arthur had transmuted all the tools of enlightenment he had gleaned over the years into weapons of power. Even his relationship with Arabella was beginning to suffer from it. He had slowly reverted back to the terse, abrasive manner of speaking to Arabella that he had used during the marijuana-and-cocaine years in New York, only it was now worse in some ways. His outbursts in New York were profane and full of emotion. Since becoming wealthy and accomplished, he had a cold, verbally agile way of expressing his displeasure with her when he became annoyed at her. It was as though his inner third grader was taking retribution on all who ever made him feel small or anxious. True, Arabella was the one who always championed him when all doubted him, and especially when he doubted himself, but still, her beauty always intimidated him, and now she had to pay. Arabella, on the other hand, as an older woman, had become less tolerant and willing to rationalize his rudeness away. This made for very stormy arguments between the two, which were sometimes very frightening to the children. However, they always made up in a big way, sometimes spending a whole day in bed together. He was still a good man. He just was slowly becoming a little more flawed, and unknown to him, a little more vulnerable. He was destined to discover that, in private practice, the price of arrogance is very high, indeed.