The Last Collection by Seymour Blicker Page B

Wasp who was speaking Yiddish, I can cure you.”
    â€œThe who?”
    â€œThe Wasp. Don’t you know what a Wasp is?”
    â€œYes, I do.”
    â€œWell, so I had one as a patient. He woke up one morning and went to a board meeting of his company—one of the biggest in Canada. He was about to sign a deal with a multimillion-dollar mining concern from Germany. When it came time for him to speak, he began addressing the Germans in Yiddish. No matter how hard he tried to speak English, he could only talk Yiddish and I mean fluent Yiddish. He spent the entire meeting questioning them about their activities during the war. Then he wanted to know if they gave money to Israel, if they ever did any canvassing for the Combined Jewish Appeal, and so on and so forth.
    â€œLater that same week, he was due to address the Rotary Club, which he did, again speaking entirely in Yiddish.
    â€œA while later he issued a memo in Yiddish to all his company personnel, forty-five hundred people, making Yiddish the official working language of his company in the future.
    â€œHe finally, of course, alienated his entire family and all his friends. They forced him, against his will, to come and see me, and I cured him.”
    Kerner felt a surge of elation. If the crazy doctor could cure that man, then he might have a hope of regaining his senses.
    â€œHow did you cure him?” Kerner asked, trying to sound calm.
    â€œThat’s for me to know and for you to find out or, to put it more plainly, it’s none of your fucking business,” the doctor snapped back.
    â€œBut I just . . .” Kerner began.
    â€œWhat? What?”
    â€œNothing,” Kerner said.
    â€œRight. We’re getting off the subject. Let’s get back to you and your messhugas, okay? Because from the sound it it, my friend, you’re in deep trouble.”
    â€œYou’re right, I am. This damn buying sickness is ruining my life. You can’t believe what it’s done to me. It just keeps getting worse and worse. If I try to fight it I go through sheer agony. Nausea, cramps, diarrhea, vomiting, nervous tension, splitting headaches, terrible anxiety.”
    â€œMy heart bleeds for you,” the doctor said and pressed a button so that his chair reclined all the way back like a bed.
    â€œWhy are you so insulting with me?” Kerner asked, feeling angry.
    â€œLook, don’t start with me, okay? You wanted to talk, so talk while you have your chance. If I want to make comments, that’s my prerogative. This is my office and I can do whatever I want in here. Okay? So just talk and shut up.”
    The doctor lay back on his chair and closed his eyes.
    Oh God, Kerner said to himself, help me.
    â€œSo c’mon. I’m waiting,” the doctor said.
    â€œI was saying that I go through agonizing withdrawal whenever I try to control myself from making a buy. . . .”
    â€œAnd I said, ‘My heart bleeds for you.’ Now go on already,” Dr. Lehman mumbled.
    â€œOkay, okay. Don’t rush me. I have to think this out.”
    â€œ Now you have to think this out?” Dr. Lehman grunted with his eyes closed.
    â€œYes, well, I want you to know exactly how this thing is affecting me.”
    â€œAll right, go on.”
    â€œOkay. Let’s see . . . Right. I’ve been pulling money out of my business for six months now. I got over-extended. My company has grown quite fast.”
    â€œI’m not impressed, Kerner. I finished medical school when I was twenty. Just stick to the facts,” the doctor said.
    â€œI’m not trying to impress you. It’s part of the story.”
    The doctor began snoring.
    â€œAnyway, I figured the way the business had been growing I would eventually catch up. I just had to keep buying things. At first it was costing me a hundred to a hundred and fifty dollars a day. Then it went up gradually so I was spending as much as five thousand