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"Only a little." His name was Dennis Teemer. "Where would you want me to begin?"
"Wherever you want to that is without pain or discomfort," Yossarian answered cheerily.
"You haven't a symptom anywhere that might suggest closer investigation."
"Why must we wait for symptoms?" queried Yossarian, talking down to his specialist. "Is it not conceivable that since we concluded our last explorations something may have originated that is blooming away hardily even as the two of us sit here procrastinating complacently?"
Dennis Teemer went along, with a shimmer of animation. "I guess I have more fun with you than I do with most of my other patients, don't I?"
"I told Leon that."
"But that may be because you're not really my patient," said Dr. Teemer. "What you conjecture is conceivable, of course, Mr. Yossarian. But it is no more likely to be happening to you than to anybody else."
"And what difference does that make to me?" countered Yossarian. "It is not much solace to know we all are susceptible. Leon thinks I'll feel better knowing I'm no worse off than he is. Let's get started."
"Suppose we begin with another chest X ray?"
"God, no!" cried Yossarian in mock alarm. "That might just get one started! You know how I feel about X rays and asbestos."
"And tobacco too. Should I give you a statistic I think you'll relish? Did you know that more Americans die each year of diseases related to smoking than were killed in all of the years of World War II?"
"Yes."
"Then I suppose we might as well go ahead. Should I hammer your knee to test your reflexes?"
"For what?"
"For free."
"Can't we at least do a biopsy?"
"Of what?"
"Of anything that's accessible and simple."
"If you will find that reassuring."
"I will sleep easier."
"We can scrape another mole or another one of your liver spots. Or should we test the prostate again? The prostate is not uncommon."
"Mine is unique," Yossarian disagreed. "It's the only one that's mine. Let's do the mole. Shumacher has a prostate my age. Let me know when you find something wrong with his."
"I can tell you now," said Yossarian's favorite oncologist, "that it will give me great pleasure to inform you that the results are negative."
"I can tell you now," said Yossarian, "that I will be happy to hear it."
Yossarian yearned to go deeper with this depressed man into the depressing nature of the pathologies in the depressing world of his work and the depressing nature of the universe in which they had each been successful in surviving thus far and which was growing more unreliable daily--there were holes in the ozone, they were running out of room for the disposal of garbage, burn the garbage and you contaminate the air, they were running out of air--but he was afraid the doctor would find that conversation depressing.
All of this cost money, of course.
"Of course," said Yossarian.
"Where is it coming from?" Leon Shumacher wondered out loud, with a palpable snarl of envy.
"I'm old enough for Medicare now."
"Medicare won't cover a fraction of this."
