Serendipitously

 194.

I can feel its wetness - but not its heat. My audience of three are all watching with interest, intent on taking away some logical scientific conclusion from the impromptu experiment. I wonder how many discoveries were born from accidents of this very nature. I can name four, referred to as serendipitous, found along that flowing round-about of chance and wisdom; the microwave, penicillin, velcro and LSD. I wiggle my toes to continue the serendipity and wonder if there is a separate in-line fuse that controls the sensation of water, or in this case coffee, on the skin and another for the detection of degrees of heat. I look at the Neurologist for the answer. As if shaken from a dream she looks at me and recites a text-book answer to the question I had only thought, not spoken.

"Sensory receptors in our skin send messages to the brain via A-delta and C fibers where they are perceived and interpreted as pleasure or pain. Is is obvious that you are experiencing some degree of interference in one or several of those fibers," she informs us.

Julie has grabbed a handful of paper towels as Hank bear-hugs me from behind to avoid any additional carnage, but the Neurologist orders them to cease their autonomous responses with a command voice, "Stop."

They both freeze looking at her for instruction.

She moves quickly to the medical counter, opens the top drawer and pulls a reflex hammer from its tool tray. She hurries back to the scene of the crime and kneels at my feet, completely disregarding the mess made by the spill. She begins to tap, first the big toe and then in descending order until the five have been tested. After each four-beat measure she looks up for my response, a central nervous system call-and-answer divertimento. As hard as I try I can neither perceive nor interpret her drumming.  

She tries the left.

Like an echo traveling inside a dark train tunnel I vaguely feel a slight, almost imperceptible ping. And then another of similar muted and diminished volume. There is a delay involved as I see her tap with the hammer but don't receive the associated message for a short period of time. The delay is lessening as she proceeds as an on-coming train gets louder. It is as if I am listening to the delay of thunder after a lightening strike. It is odd. I am suddenly cold and shiver.

"What was that?" she asks.

"What was what?"

"You sent an electrical charge along your spinal column ending at your feet, in response to what?" she probes.

I consider her question, offering what I take to be a weak answer of, "I felt cold and I shivered."

"But you felt no pain from the coffee and very little from the reflex taps?"

"Right."

"Amazing."

I am suddenly fatigued. The almost twenty minutes of standing has maxed-out my limited endurance. I ask the Neurologist if we are done, Julie if she has any news and Hank to help me back to the safe confines of my bed.

Three affirmatives and our test is concluded. Julie caps the experience with a suggestion to keep it between us until we have more data to share.

Three more affirmatives.

I shut my eyes.