Story for performance #223
webcast from Sydney at 08:02PM, 29 Jan 06

bad blood runs deep
Source: Nidal Al-mughrabi, Reuters, ‘Coalition rejected as gunmen clash’, The Age online, 29/01/06.
Writer/s: David Hagger

Paris, January 29, 1885

My dear Godmother,

I have been foolish not to have written earlier and tell you of my ways. I received your letter of a month ago, with great gratitude. Since this time I have had to travel to London to meet with some business associates for the tannery. I was lucky to enjoy the company of Monsieur Sescau, the managing director, who proved to be a wonderful companion for my first trip abroad. I have been entranced by the grip of London fever. The city is forthcoming with its hustle and bustle, and the people most accommodating. I had a splendid time on the boat from Calais to Dover, and finally witnessed the white walls of the cliff about which we heard so much as infants.

However my Godmother, I must not beat about the bush. There have been more troubling matters since my return. I am yet to tell Aurelie and my dear son, Louis what I am to tell you now, and would hope that you honour me by remaining silent until I have determined a way to approach this uncomfortable situation. As you well know, Aurelie is not one to take kindly to dire circumstances and I worry that she would strain her heart if I were not careful.

I have fallen ill again in the past few weeks. The torrential rain and icy conditions here in the city have rendered me bedridden with influenza symptoms, only this time with more pain. My lungs are heavy and feel as if they have been doused with water. The aching behind my knees and in my joints brings a tear to my eye as I try to rest. I tell you this frankly so as not to confuse you further. I do not intend to upset you, but trust that you will provide me with the assistance needed to lift my spirits to the fine fettled ways of before.

Dr Perrot, a marvelously clever man, had a specialist from Nice visit me. It seems I have been diagnosed with a more serious matter than previously thought. I am afraid that I have Sickle Cell Disease. It is rather complicated, but I shall try to explain as best I can. This horrid disease is a blood disorder that transforms my normally round red blood cells into a crescent shape, causing much difficulty when passing through blood vessels, eventually blocking them and the vital oxygen that these cells carry. It is like a tyranny of fire in my blood that may sadly lead to total disability, and quite possibly a fatal stroke in time to come. Be aware that areas of my body are not receiving the correct levels of blood that are required. I have been told of other symptoms that bear far worse consequences for my internal organs, but dare not cast these details down upon you for now as I am sure your concern is too grave already.

There has been only limited research conducted for this illness, and its accuracy is yet to be determined. I cannot tell you of the hardship I have had to endure in just writing this letter. I weep with your sadness as you read on. I agonise that this problem may be deeply rooted in our family lines. As you know my father died in his early years of an illness that could not be identified, nor be treated. I rest well knowing that mother was to live a long and rich life without such horror. Beyond, I know little of the lives of my grandparents. But it is to my son that I panic for a life of wellbeing. The specialist doctor has informed me that this is a hereditary blood borne disease. It is almost certain that I have been this way from birth, and likely that my beloved Louis too will be of the same ilk. I am truly at a loss as to what to do. My grief is insurmountable.

The tannery has shown considerable support, kindly offering to assist with the payment of a part time maid to help with the domestic duties whilst I am stuck here in bed. But I fear they have not yet understood the seriousness of my situation. I will now have to contemplate my course of action for supplementing my income, as I am clearly not fit to work. I have extended a certain level of detail to my employers over numerous discussions, but by the nature of what little we know, it seems to fall on deaf ears. In sum, the result of these conversations has left us all bereft of energy; something I have to hold precious to me at all times from here on in.

My window curtains are drawn wide although the rain blocks the very view I crave to see. I ask you to send the sun, and with it some cheer from the fresh sea air of Marseille. I kiss you and wish you courage.

Your loving Godson

Christophe

Adapted for performance by Barbara Campbell from a story by David Hagger.