No Rest For The Wicked

Upon my return from Thailand in April of 2008 my finances were in ruins. My savings had been wiped out an individual sub-prime melt-down minus the many zeros. I went up to Boston to see my sister. She commiserated with my situation to find an experiment on sleep-deprivation at the Beth Israel Hospital. The experiment paid $1500 for a 6-day session culminating with a 60-hour session of being awake. No drugs. Only the company of a doctor. Having successfully survived 3-day binges in the 1980s I called up the number and went into Boston to take the preliminary tests. The hospital said that my health was fine and the doctors scheduled me for a session at the end of May. May 30th to be exact, which was one day before my birthday. "What are these tests for?" They sounded suspiciously similar to the CIA torture techniques used on captives in the War on Terror. "To test the endurance of a body and mind under stress." The doctor was a young woman. Her outfit was spotless. The office was banal same as the camp commander at Dachau. "Is there a problem? "No." I needed the money. My sister and brother-in-law celebrated my hitting an age in the 50s with wine and pizza. The night almost felt like a last meal and in the morning I woke ready to take the trolley into the hospital. My younger sister came by for breakfast and upon hearing about my proposed involvement in this experiment said, "You have to be crazy. A friend of mine did something like that for Harvard and she's still not right." She punched up the devastating effects of the experiments on her computer. Psychosis and nervous breakdowns were the least of my worries. After 22 days death was eminent. "I need the money." I had less than $20 in my pocket. The Fung Wah bus to New York was $15. "Not that bad." and my younger lent me $500. It wasn't $1500, but then I didn't have to go through with the rendition treatment for my country. Oh what a lucky man. It's good to have family.