New Book Explores Why Medicine Doesn't Always Work
Jan. 31, 2023 –In How Medicine Works and When It Doesn’t, F. Perry Wilson, MD, guides readers through the murky and often treacherous landscape of modern medicine. The book could well have been titled Marcus Welby Doesn’t Live Here Anymore. In Wilson’s view, Americans no longer trust their doctors the way they once did, and that lack of trust can have life-threatening consequences.
But patients…
“I know what they’ll remember,
In the words of every song,
What will they say about you,
When I am gone?”
-Heather Dale, ‘Hero’.
Fear was not an emotion Venise was accustomed to. The way it made its home in his stomach as a block of ice nestling into every crevice, spreading to his lungs, crawling up his throat, made him nauseous; the crippling nervousness that accompanied it making his fingertips numb and his palms sweat. But his face was as blank as the door to his cell which swung open for the first time in months. He tried not to cough at the sudden rise of dust in the air, nor flinch as light filtered in. Commanded to stand from his position on his knees with his gloved hands tied behind his back, he did so, joints screaming in protest, legs struggling to hold his weight. He took a shaky breath as to ease the prickling nerves as he was led out, but the motion was in vain; that block of ice sat on his chest, constricted his breathing.
Yet, despite the struggle, his legs would not betray him. He would keep walking; he would keep his head held high. He would not cower. He would not show weakness.
Walking past the other cells, he ignored the crude words other prisoners aimed at him, violet eyes remaining fixed upon the iron gates before him. ‘Murderer’, ‘Monster’, ‘Traitor’ – the words echoed through the corridor in a never-ending cacophony, swirling around him. Compared to the others, Venise did not appear as a violent, dangerous criminal. The scum of the worlds were incarcerated here, and here Venise appeared as nothing more than a harmless young man. One prisoner spat at him as he walked past, hissing ‘coward’ in an ancient language of a world that was long gone. Venise paused in his tracks staring up at the ceiling, the guards around him stopping and ready to force him along, before he began walking again.
Finally, they arrived at the gates, the guards stepping aside letting Venise through, only two accompanying him from the circle that had previously engulfed him. Another hall before meeting the large gold doors that led to his fate, swinging open as soon as he stopped in front of them.
The Pantheon. The Court of the Gods.
‘When was the last time this had been in use?’ Venise wondered briefly as he was hauled up on stage. Glancing around at his surroundings, it looked like everyone was here, from Gaia to Aditi, to Amaretsu; to Lucifer, to Anubis, to Hades; from the top-ranking to the bottom and everyone in-between. Venise even spied Death himself and the three Faiths in a corner and couldn’t help the twitch of his lips, despite feeling every single pair of eyes on him, like tiny needles prickling his skin. Never once had they all been in the same place at the same time. He was almost impressed. His nerves vanish, an ironic amusement taking over.
The court was set out like a theatre; Venise stood on stage surrounded by seats, complete with the gold flourishes, the balconies, the red velvet, the ceiling complete with an away of paintings depicting gods in the most honourable way. Venise almost laughed at the irony as he looked up once more eyes narrowing; he swore he could hear the crackle of electricity. He directed his attention to the elevated balcony before; the seat of the judge. A high throne accented with gold and jewels on a balcony of its own, elevated forward. Usually the one to judge would be one of the creation deities, but all of them sat on either side of the throne on their respected balconies. The throne was empty.
Venise furrowed his brows, ignoring the murmurings of the gods. That was strange. He had been looking forward to seeing who would cast his sentence. Hell, he was looking forward to what his sentence would be in the first place. What punishment do you give for the highest treason? Did they even have one? Would they have to invent one just for him?
Amused by that fact, he decided to listen in on the conversation closest to him. Speaking too quietly for him to properly hear, he could make out a ‘where is she?’ and a concluding ‘she’s not coming’. ‘She’, was it? Mentally, Venise began going through all the goddess he could think of, ticking them off as he saw them within the crowd. Spotting every single one that came to mind he was becoming mildly annoyed. Was it so much to ask for this affair to be over and done with it?
All was silenced at the appearance of his judge. Wearing green silks around a petite frame, chestnut hair pinned back away from her face, the young woman made her way to the throne. Taking a seat with one leg over the other, she rested her elbows on either side of the throne, her fingers lacing together in front of her. Unreadable green eyes bore down at the accused, face as blank as a canvas. Venise felt his heart simultaneously soar and get stuck in his throat, before sinking to his feet. The nerves that had disappeared returned with a vengeance, crashing over him like a wave.
Magic incarnate herself, the most powerful being amongst the worlds and forever sealed into a human form by the gods to be exploited for power and control, would be his judge. Let it never be said the gods didn’t have a sense of humour. He was certain she was chosen as his judge as an added blow to his pride.
His former wife.
This could either end very well, or very badly. At this point, Venise was not sure which he would prefer. He still did not falter; keeping his head held high, shoulders and back relaxed, breathing even.
“Venise,” Magic’s voice echoed through the court, silencing the murmurs that had started up again. “You are being tried for sins against the Creators, against the planes, the worlds, the universe itself, and crimes against the beings that inhabit this universe. How do you plead?”
The tension in the air was suffocating, hanging over him like smog, heavy and unforgiving. “I plead guilty,” he began, his own voice sounding strange to him after months of incarceration, throat dry as sandpaper, “but only for my first crime listed.”
His plea caused uproar within the court, and it took a moment for Magic to silence the gods, a flash of annoyance in her eyes. At that, he felt himself relax. This could turn in his favour, yet.
“Venise, do you understand why you’re here?” Magic asked him once the court was silent. He gave her a smile in return.
“Of course, but before we continue, would you mind releasing my arms? It’s chafing.” Noticing Magic’s hesitance, he carried on, “I am but confined to a stage, dear Maggie, in the court of the gods. I may be cunning, but even I can recognise when my king is in check,” there was a stone cold silence and he could feel another outburst coming. Before a word could be uttered, he felt the rope loosen, his confines falling to the ground. With it went the smog of nerves that had hung over him, the fear in his chest beginning to melt. He rolled his shoulders and rubbed his wrist, as if removing any last bit of anxiety that had settled within him.
Venise was many things. Murderer. Monster. Traitor. A Villain. But he was not a coward.
“You have conspired against the creators, caused countless deaths, of worlds, of innocent beings, and of gods,” Maggie said, attempting and failing to silence the bubble of furore that had began. “Do you plead guilty to those charges?”
“I do,” he answered, his words washing over the audience, a freezing silence encompassing the theatre.
“So you plead guilty for committing crimes against the universe itself?” Despite her tone remaining even, Venise detected it; a whisper of confusion laced with the sweet sound of hesitance.
“I believe we have been over this, dear Maggie.” He said, standing centre stage, arms out stretched to either side. “I am guilty,” his voice rose, “of the highest of treasons; of defying my masters and creators; of destroying the fragile ego of the gods and taking back the control that belongs rightfully to me and the creations you have enslaved.” Acrimony burned through his blood, scorching his veins, but his tone remained even and smooth.
He moved his king from check.
The air was heavy once more, this time with animosity towards the villain in the centre of the stage. The gods began to voice their hatred, their belief in a just punishment – most ending with a gruesome death. With the hint of a smirk on his lips Venise removed his gloves, throwing them on the ground next to him. It was that motion that silenced the gods, as if the tension in the air had frozen them in place. The silence was deafening.
Perhaps it was the suffocating silence and murderous tension that caused one of the gods to fire lightning at Venise. Venise frowned at the display, capturing the ball of energy in his hands. Closing his eyes as his body absorbed the energy so graciously hurled at him; he tilted his head back, silver hair falling behind himf. Like the source of the energy, his veins lit up like lightning, illuminating his skin. He sighed in disappointment, eyes opening. He had hoped to see the backbone of the gods, not petty shows of power in an attempt to dismay him, rooted in fear and cowardice. However he could not complain, glancing up at the ceiling a hint of a smile on his lips. He turned his attention back to the audience, taking a few steps forward.
“Why are you all upset?” He asked, eyes roaming over every single one of the deities present. “Is it because the words I speak are true? Are you terrified of me? Surely not; my purpose, moulded and forged by all of you is to use and destroy, it would be naïve to think I would do anything but.”
“Take him back to his cell,” it was Magic who spoke, having stood from her throne, staring down at Venise from the balcony. The two guards who escorted Venise through hesitated, looking at each other. Venise was certain they had only ever heard rumours of him–a monster, as what he would be known as – was capable of but even that was enough. He knew neither of them wanted to be here but were given no choice of their summoning. Swallowing the guards began to move forward, steps wary. Venise put up a hand, motioning for them to stop. With his back still turned, he spoke to them;
“Gentlemen, if you wish to leave here with your lives intact, I would turn around and leave. I will kill you.” Despite the amount of innocent blood spilt and lives Venise had taken, there was no need to take more lives than necessary. The guards were not his enemies.
As if those words had given him courage, one of the guards moved to attack, fear and anger shining bright in his eyes. Another sigh as Venise turned around, grabbing the guard by the throat and lifting him in the air. The other guard shouted as her friend struggled. The former anger was lost, only regret and terror left in the first guard’s veins as Venise drained him of his energy, his life, slowly, as if savouring the taste.
Venise’s veins lit up like they did before, fading as the first guard was dropped to the ground by his feet. Venise stared down at the man, whose face was frozen in terror in his death. Venise’s gaze moved to the second guard who could only gape in horror at what she had just witnessed. Her hands were shaking, sweat on her brow, tears burning the back of her eyes. She looked up at Venise, shock etched into the very wrinkles of her skin. Venise’s face was the perfect reflection of stone.
The guard looked from Venise to the gods in the Pantheon. Not a single one spoke. Not a single one looked at the guard; all eyes were fixed on the man who had murdered her friend. Venise turned away from the guard, his eyes on Magic. The guard fled.
“My dear creators, you have already lost for I have won. I won the moment you put her,” his eyes met Magic’s, violet clashing against green, “as my judge; the moment you thought yourselves victorious. You claim I am a murderer. If that isn’t the embodiment of hypocrisy, nothing is. Any of you could have stopped that murder and unjust taking of an innocent life. None of you did.” The last word were spoken softer aimed at the judge; something almost like betrayal lacing its way through them. He spoke again, the softness gone;
“Your time has passed and we, your creations, from elves to demons, to angels to nymphs to humans, no longer wish to be your puppets. Killing me- if you can, may I add- will do nothing but fuel the revolution. I have planted the seed and unless you wish to destroy all of your creations. There is no stopping it. We will be your puppets no more. Of course, you could always destroy us, but that would be admitting defeat. None of you ever took your losses gracefully.” He had flashbacks to the first rebellion, the countless innocent lives lost; he felt a pang in his chest, his heart mourning for the fallen. But his face remained
“You are nothing but black words and golden speech, Venise.”
“I know.”
It was those words that broke the ice of tension. The audience began to riot, Magic’s grip on the balcony tightening, turning her knuckles white. Venise gave a bow, right hand behind his back, left hand across his middle. That was a more satisfactory response. Standing up straight, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. It was time.
“Silence.” His voice rang through the court. Whether silence fell due to surprise or fear, he did not know.
“The end of this era has come, a new one beginning. And none of you will be a part of it.” The last words were directed at Magic, his eyes trained on her. Her gaze did not falter, not even when she heard the crackle of electricity and knew well of what would follow.
Venise took a step back, the ball of lightning from before forming in the palm of his hand. Thrusting his palm upwards the beam of electricity shot up at the ceiling. The ceiling began to crack, like the sound of snapping bone, the pillars around them shaking and collapsing, revealing the midnight blue sky of the night. A cold rush of air came in, circling around them in the rising dust. As soon as the gods had heard the crackle of lightning, they stood to stop whatever scheme Venise had hatched but by the time the first one reacted, it was too late. A fine blade, sparking with electricity was in Venise’s hand, the scent of ozone heavy in the air.
“I hoped you would find me,” Venise murmured, caressing the blade with the care of a long lost lover. His gaze shifted upwards to the frenzied audience. With one swift, graceful movement he slashed his blade, lightning cutting through the very fabric of the Pantheon. It was a distraction, however brief, but amongst the terror lace screams of the gods and their crumbling kingdom, he ran, disappearing into the night. And just as quickly as he vanished, he fled to another world.
Venise was many things, and while a coward was not one, he knew when not to push his luck. The time for war and battle would come; now was not it.
Amidst the fallen gods and rubble stood Magic in the centre, eyes trained on the last spot she had seen Venise.
“You didn’t stop him.” A voice neither male nor female but possessing both the nurturing one of a mother and harsh tone of a father spoke next to Magic. Magic chose not to face Death.
Serena M. Agusto-Cox, the blogger behind the wonderful Savvy Verse&Wit talks about being a Book Expert on PopCircle and the value that the service bring to the table!
"PopCircle generates recommendations based on the other members in your circles and who has similar tastes, and it is not just automated nonsense."
Sign up to become a PopCircle user or, as Serena put it, pop over and join!
