The Senility of Vladimir P by Michael Honig

which people would literally crawl out of public wards in fear for their lives – he had witnessed it with his own eyes, not once, but twice – to get themselves into private hospitals, in a number of which the professor held considerable shares. But even so, there were limits to what could be expected from him. And really, looking at this chart, it was only every few days that Vladimir had an episode of agitation, and only every second or third of those was so extreme as to require an injection, and just this month there had been almost three full weeks in which he had been injection-free . . .
    â€˜It really isn’t that bad,’ said Kalin.
    â€˜No,’ said Sheremetev.
    â€˜You could almost say it’s improving,’ said Andreevsky, peering over Kalin’s shoulder at the chart.
    Kalin glanced at him suspiciously, then turned back to Sheremetev. ‘It’s always this Chechen, is it?’
    â€˜When he’s fighting, yes, it’s always him.’
    â€˜And he really fights him? I mean, he physically gets up and fights him?’
    Sheremetev nodded.
    â€˜Who is he? Someone he knew? Someone he worked with?’
    â€˜I have no idea.’
    â€˜You could increase the dose if you want to,’ said Andreevsky. ‘His heart could take it.’
    â€˜I thought you said it was improving!’ said Kalin.
    Andreevsky shrugged. ‘Up to you, Vyacha.’
    Kalin studied the charts again and rubbed at his nose. Andreevsky stole a glance at Sheremetev and grinned. Kalin had no idea what to do but couldn’t bear to show it in front of a colleague or a nurse. The nose-scratching was a sure sign. In the end, Andreevsky and Sheremetev both knew, he was going to do nothing, as he always did, and say that he would review things in a month.
    â€˜Does he wander?’ asked Kalin suddenly.
    â€˜Wander?’ said Sheremetev.
    â€˜Vladimir Vladimirovich! Does he wander?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜At night?’
    Sheremetev shook his head.
    â€˜Do you keep his door locked?’
    â€˜He never wanders.’
    â€˜Never?’
    â€˜Never.’
    â€˜Still, you should lock his door, Nikolai Ilyich.’
    Sheremetev had no intention of locking Vladimir’s door. He hated the idea of such a thing unless there was really no alternative. It was a momentous betrayal of trust, to confine someone like an infant. And it wasn’t necessary. First, Vladimir didn’t wander. And second, if he did, Sheremetev would surely hear him through the monitor.
    Kalin gave his nose a final scratch. ‘In my opinion, it’s best to leave things as they are for now,’ he said sagely, handing back the charts. ‘I’ll review the situation next month.’
    â€˜I agree,’ replied Andreevsky in his gravest, most professorial voice.
    â€˜Be sure to make a note of every episode, Nikolai Ilyich,’ said Kalin, holding up an admonitory finger. ‘I’ll need to make a full assessment.’
    â€˜ Every episode,’ said Andreevsky.
    The two professors walked to the stairs, Sheremetev following a step behind.
    â€˜Does anyone come to see him?’ asked Kalin, glancing over his shoulder.
    â€˜Not much,’ said Sheremetev. ‘Three days ago President Lebedev was here to take photos with him.’
    â€˜I saw in the paper. How was he?’
    Sheremetev shrugged. ‘He was what he was. They wanted him to give the president his blessing, but he refused to say anything.’
    â€˜Did he say why?’
    â€˜I got the feeling that he and President Lebedev didn’t like each other much.’
    Professor Andreevksy laughed.
    â€˜Do you think he knew what was going on?’ asked Kalin.
    â€˜I think he knew more than you would think. At first he thought Lebedev had come to make a report to him, that he was still some kind of minister. Then I think he realised that something else was going on.’ Sheremetev smiled. ‘He liked