Rucha Phadtare
Professor Emily Van Buskirk
“Stories of the Self”
12 November 2014
Dr. Ragin Meets Gregor Samsa
Andrey Yefimich stared at the specimen in front of him in surprise. He’d never investigated a case quite like this before. It had been Mikhail Averyanich who had suggested anxiously that he take the trip, insinuating that the distance from the ward might provide him with some mental clarity. He has insisted it would be best from his health, and Andrey Yefimich had agreed reluctantly.
Mikhail Averyanich first heard about Gregor from an acquaintance living in the Samsas’ neighborhood after three boarders had left the Samsas’ residence because of what they referred to as inhabitable conditions due to an outrageous housemate.
Gregor stared curiously up at the doctor, wondering who had decided to call him in. He decided the practical thing would be to first introduce himself.
“Hello, doctor. Good to see you,” Gregor clicked.
Andrey Yefimich looked startled for a moment and then peered closer at Gregor. Gregor stood perfectly still so as not to scare him. He considered backing up a few steps but then realized he might come across as frightened instead of wary. As much as he wished to lessen the doctor’s discomfort, he didn’t want to create the impression of being a frightened insect that would skitter away at the slightest move. After all, here was the first person to come so close to him, willingly and unrepulsed.
“Is he trying to communicate?” Andrey Yefimich asked Mr. Samsa, never taking his eyes off the subject.
Mr. Samsa let out a snort of disbelief, the suddenness of which caused Gregor to involuntarily jump slightly, then glared at Gregor as though his movement had been a sin. Gregor looked up at his father pitifully, the rotting apple still embedded in his back, and thought, “I must have frightened him again.” So he resolved to stay as still as possible in order to avoid any other unpleasantness. Gregor turned his focus back to Andrey Yefimich, who seemed to still be contemplating Gregor’s actions and noises.
It occurred to Gregor that he might have spoken too quickly and slurred his words, remembering how his voice had turned into garbled nonsense the first time he’d attempted speech in his new condition. With great concentration, Gregor abbreviated his sentence to, “Hello doctor.”
Andrey Yefimich smiled slightly. How interesting. Here was something he’d never seen before. An insect that could speak, albeit not so clearly.
“We just found him like that one day, doctor” Mrs. Samsa ventured forth timidly. “We can’t quite figure out what to do with him now.”
“It’s a strange occurrence yes,” Andrey Yefimich said thoughtfully. “But is it really much stranger that I’ve ended up doctor? After all, it is by pure chance that we end up in our various positions. This fellow has just had the poor luck of finding himself as a bug. It could just as easily have been he who found himself a doctor and me who found myself a helpless insect.”
Gregor considered that perhaps tomorrow the doctor might wake up and find himself in that situation. Gregor imagined that, despite his apparent apathy, the doctor might feel more indignant than he in the same predicament.
“Well how do we – I mean, what do we do with it?”
Andrey Yefimich began to answer, but then saw that Mrs. Samsa wished to speak and contained himself, giving her nod.
She asked quietly, “Do you think he feels any pain?”
Andrey Yefimich considered, “Well perhaps, but it is unreasonable. One can render oneself impervious to pain. It’s all in the mind and what separates the wiseest from their simpler counterparts is their ability to understand the significance of the mind over the body and live exclusively by their thoughts. If one recognizes that pain is but a thought, then one can rid himself of it as easily as forgetting an unpleasant memory.”
“Then perhaps we can rid ourselves of this predicament if we pretend Gregor isn’t different now,” Mr. Samsa interjected.
“Not quite. He is what he is. His physical state isn’t up to us, is it? Whether we find ourselves behind bars, or outside them – both are equally likely for any given man. However, your son, he is no better or worse off in his new body than his old. His suffering is only a matter of his mental weakness.”
Gregor considered this. Perhaps the doctor was right. Perhaps he ought to be smarter. If he had been wise enough to see past his material restrictions in the first place, he might have made the train that first morning and the office manager wouldn’t have had to come to fetch him. He might not have inconvenienced his family so. But there might still be time. Gregor thought again how the doctor might react if he were to suddenly wake up so changed. He wondered if the doctor would handle the situation better, given his conviction in his philosophies.
“Yes, I have another patient back home, a rather interesting character who said the most delightful things,” Andrey Yefimich continued. “He lives in a ward, and I tell him it shouldn’t make a difference. A ward, a warm study, a bug’s body. What’s the difference when the mind stays constant? Comfort is subjective.”
Gregor contemplated the doctor’s words. If only his family could recognize that he was still Gregor, they might escape the confinement he’d imposed on them. If his office manager could see past his predicament, then he could return to work again and perhaps his family could learn to be at ease around him as well. If he could just have a chance to work again, to be of use, he was sure he’d be able to set things back to the way they’d been.
Gregor’s little legs jerked around in excitement at the prospect of returning to work, and he suddenly skittered forward. Andrey Yefimich jumped back in surprise and Mrs. Samsa shrieked and fell into Grete’s arms. Mr. Samsa leaped forward with a roar and began pushing Gregor backwards. Gregor froze, appalled at his actions, and looked around at the faces swimming above him, searching fruitlessly for some sign of leniency. The doctor had taken several paces back and had adopted an expression of decided discomfort. His rigid features and tight-lipped grimace suggested regret at having visited at all. What had he expected to gain from this patient that could hardly communicate?
Gregor looked over at his sister and mother, who were cowering in fear, clearly unable to overcome his appearance. The doctor had understood there was something left inside, it seemed, but now even he seemed to be reconsidering.
Gregor’s thoughts were interrupted by a sudden blow to his back, which pushed the disintegrating apple deeper into his broken shell. He scrambled backwards in fright.. His father came at him again, brandishing an umbrella and roaring in anger and fear. Gregor’s legs gave out suddenly and he fell to the ground with a thump. The umbrella struck him again, this time from the side, and sent him sliding across the floor and into the wall. Mr. Samsa poked his son with the tip of the umbrella, shoving and prodding him until he’d successfully relocated him back into the room.
The door slammed shut with a burst of air. Gregor stared ahead blankly for a moment then decided it would be best to settle down under the bed again, at least until everyone had calmed down. But he found he could hardly move, so he stayed put, feeling his energy drain slowly out of him. His head sunk and he closed his eyes in weariness, listening to the faint buzz of voices outside.
“Yes well I suppose I ought to be heading out. I’ve got patients in the ward to tend to of course. His case seems well past repair, I’m afraid. Death is inevitable after all, so we can only wait now. I’m not sure I can really do anything for you. You’ll have to figure out how to keep him for what time he has left. What is the life expectancy of bugs? I’ve forgotten it now, but it’s quite short I believe. He’ll be all right until then though. After all, peace and contentment lie within and he can live inside his new body as well as his old one. It’s all chance, unfortunately. If it’d been someone else, all the better for him, but well, there isn’t much to be done now.”
The doctor had been inching towards the door, thinking of his study at home and the drink he’d like to have once he got there. He tilted his hat at the trio standing there watching him.
“Goodbye then. Goodbye.”
