Switchtwitch Syndrome

We all knew the stories, the legends. It was passed down in whispers and secrets. Schoolyard teasing and chants, but it had never been confirmed. Not locally anyway. Jenny had a cousin whose best friend supposedly had it, but I'd never personally met anyone that had it. I honestly can't believe I'm considering it. I once thought it was superstition, folklore like giants and mutant creatures. Not every one of us has it. Some of us, the older generations or those born and raised in the old ways, are said not to have it. Fear has stopped us from learning more about it, until now. 

I wasn’t there when it started, but from what I had gathered, it started so insignificantly that no one really noticed it anyway. A little tremor, a jitter, a stutter on an otherwise perfectly smooth day. Heck, even I probably wouldn’t notice the warning signs. It might not happen again for a while, but it’s guaranteed to happen. When it does, it starts to build with more frequency, until others start to notice. That’s how it happened with Mabel. 

Mabel is an outstanding citizen in our community. We’re a small town, and we all do our best to support each other. Tucked into the mountains, our town has been self-reliant for its entire history, and real pride and cornerstone. Most family businesses were inherited, but if you wanted to go off and create your own path, we support you. 

Mabel sold produce, mainly eggs and seasonal vegetables. Right as rain you knew you’d see Mabel at her produce every morning at 7:00am sharp with a smile and wave. She used her generations of knowledge passed down to her to grow the most amazing carrots, beets, and radishes. Her eggs, chicken, goose, duck, whatever you need, those eggs are the richest, creamiest eggs you will ever find. 

It was Mabel's neighbor who first started noticing the tics. Small inconsistencies in her behavior, things that could be explained away. A hitch in her step. Right foot, right foot, right foot, but the left didn’t seem to want to do its part, like achy joints when it's raining.  An eye twitch on a sunny day. We can all experience these things once in a while. 

One day Mabel wasn’t at her stand. In the past, if she was sick or couldn’t make it to her stand, she would send a note with a neighbor or friend letting her customers know she wouldn’t be there. This day, there was no note. Again, we all forget things, right? In a town that feels more like a family, checking on Mabel seemed like the right thing to do. 

 Being sheriff is a job of balance and responsibility. I had an obligation to the people of this town, and to Mabel, to make sure she was alright. Mabel’s stand is on the corner near the bank and the car repair shop. A primo traffic spot. Kids skipped by on their way to school, and I heard the click of the bank door being unlocked. I waved to Lee, the bank manager as I rounded the corner. Empty. No Mabel. I checked the strand for her customary note, and when I didn’t find it, I checked the ground and the surrounding area to see if it had blown away. No note anywhere. I sauntered into the bank to chat with Lee real quick. 

“Mornin’ Lee” I extended my hand for a warm firm shake. 

“Mornin’ Sheriff,” Lee greeted me with his tell-tale grin. “What a beautiful day out this morning, I had a hard time wanting to come to work. I almost skipped out and went fishing!” Lee shook my hand and laughed a generous laugh, smile lines running their familiar paths along his eyes and cheeks. Lee had been banking for 30 years, and had never had a mulligan day, but he loved joking about them. 

“Say, I see Mabel’s not at her stand this morning, you haven’t happened to see her around town, have you?” The front bell chimed as I finished my inquiry, and in walked Ann, Mabel’s neighbor. 

“Goodmorning Lee, Goodmorning Sheriff, you’re just the person I was looking for.” Ann greeted us, twisting her hands nervously. 

I tipped my hat and said, “Well I’m happy to be of service.”

“Well…” she twisted her hands some more, “it’s Mabel. She didn’t leave to go to her produce stand this morning, and when I stopped by to check on her, there was no answer at her door. You know Mabel, she’s like a clock sheriff, always predictable. I even checked the coops to see if she had gotten a late start, but the birds were still locked up, which means she hadn’t even been out for the day yet….” she trailed off, her mind wandering, her hands now twisting the strap on her purse. 

“I'm glad you found me Ann, I was just asking Lee if he had seen Mabel. I stopped by for some eggs and her stand was empty with no note. And like you said, she’s like clockwork that one, she’d at least have left a note. Let’s head over to her place to see what we can find.” 

Ann and I head out the door, and I steer the conversation toward light and uplifting topics that don’t require much thought, hoping to distract Ann with talk and buy my brain a little time to think. Has anyone in the town ever been missing before? Not on my watch. Is there anything in the history book?  Not that I can recall. A ripple of excitement traveled through my body, something new. 

Mabel’s house looked undisturbed, neat and orderly as usual. I knocked on the door, and it went unanswered. Ann glanced around nervously, and I thought it might be best to send her on a busy work errand.

“Ann, while I take a look around here, would you mind grabbing me a quick breakfast from the cafe and dropping it off at my office?” A sense of duty filled Ann, her shoulders set back, her head raised, and she accepted the distraction.

“Oh absolutely, Sheriff. Do you want your usual eggs, bacon, and toast with black coffee?” Looks like Mabel wasn’t the only predictable one around here. I smirked and said, “you know me well Ann, thanks, I appreciate it.” 

I walk around the perimeter, checking windows, looking for footprints or anything in disarray. Not one thing looked amiss. I silently circled back to the front of the house to get the spare key from her garden, when I heard a sound. A soft, repetitive, thump, bump, thump, bump, thump bump. I froze, straining my ears, listening like a deer in the woods. There it was again, thump, bump, thump, bump. Is Mabel in distress? Had she fallen and gotten hurt? I dashed to the garden, grabbed the rock, in one swift motion I removed the key and hurddled the front step. The key smoothly clicked and unlocked the door.  

“Mabel, it’s Sheriff Clarence. I’m entering your house; I heard a noise and I’m here to check on your welfare. You weren’t at your stand this morning, and Ann and I were concerned.” I announce my presence loud, slowly and clearly while swiftly checking each room. Kitchen, clear. Livingroom, clear.  Bedroom, thump, bump, thump, bump, thump bump. Two closed doors in the bedroom, I’m assuming one closet and one bathroom. I yank the bathroom door open, clear. In one long stride, I pivot out of the bathroom, reach the closet and open the door. There, in the dark closet, was Mabel. She was methodically stepping with one foot into the wall. The thump was her knee hitting the wall, the bump her nose and forehead. She didn’t seem to notice the light flooding into the closet, stuck in her repetitive loop.

“Mabel,” I say as I gently take her by the shoulders and lead her out of the closet, “I think you got stuck in the closet. Why don’t you come over here and sit down. Let’s take a look at your head.” Her forehead was scrapped up, the fabric on her jeans eroded away, showing scraped skin. How long had she been in there for? Her eyes were wide and unfocused, blinking slowly and methodically. I grab my flashlight from my belt, and shine it in her eyes, checking her pupils for dilation. This seems to snap her out of it. She blinks rapidly, looking around for the first time. She works her jaw and tongue, like waking up from a deep sleep and her mouth is dry. 

“Why…Hello…hello….hello…hellooooo Sheerrrrrrrifffff.” The words slowly escaped her mouth, her voice gravely and lowering octaves the more she tried to talk. 

“Why hello Mabel, I’m glad to have found you. Would you like to take a quick trip to see Dr Smith with me? I’d like for you to get the bump on your head looked at.” I gently ask her, while assessing her motor skills. While her eyes were now focused, her blinking was uneven and slow. Right eye, then left, open halfway, then one eye opened, one eye closed. She slowly nods, and I decide she probably can’t walk the two blocks to the Doctor’s Office. 

“Mabel, I’m going to phone John for a ride, and then we’ll head right over.” 

In the short time it took for me to phone John to get the car, Mabel had fallen asleep sitting up. I couldn’t rouse her at all. Concern mounted in my chest. What was happening? I carried Mabel to the car and filled John in on the way.

We carried Mabel into the doctor's office, which was thankfully empty. Dr Smith met us at the door, and we followed her through the waiting room to the exam room. We laid Mabel down on the table, and I quickly filled her in on what had been going on. 

“That’s quick-thinking Sheriff, we don’t have too many emergencies here, and I think you’ve managed to avoid another one. If you two don’t mind stepping out, I’m going to do my best to wake up Mabel to try and examine her.” 

John and I head back to my office to record and discuss the morning events. We were met there by Ann, my steaming breakfast in hand. 

“Ann, you’re the best. I found Mabel, she seemed to have been stuck in her house. She's being examined by Dr Smith as we speak.” Relief filled her face. 

“Oh Sheriff! I am so relieved to hear that. And if I had known John was going to be here, I would have brought breakfast for the two of you!” 

“Thanks for the offer Ann, Judith and I ate earlier this mornin’ tho’.” John said in his quiet lilt. 

“Well Ann, I appreciate you bringin’ my breakfast on down, John and I are going to take a minute to debrief. Please let me know if you need anything else.” I gently led her out the door, and waved to her as she walked off. 

“Clarence what was that today? Why was Mabel out cold like that? And you said you found her in the closet? Why couldn’t she get out?” Curiosity had overwhelmed John’s usual quiet tendencies. 

“Honestly John…” I paused to gather my words, “I’ve never seen anyone like that before. I’m not really sure what to make of it. The best thing we can do is to be meticulous in our records and stay sharp.” 

Being brothers, John and I knew each other like the back of our hands. He knew I was worried before I knew. 

“Listen,” John hesitated, “this sounds like….well….you know…”

I glanced up sharply, “John, I am not some old granny or kindergartener, Switchtwitch Syndrome is just a myth, no one, and I mean no one from our town has ever had SS.” 

“Yea, but Mabel’s not from our town, she moved here from the big city when she was younger….and I know you don’t like to listen to the AM radio channels, but I do. And there’s chatter on there more and more every day about SS. It used to just be talked about occasionally, almost like a joke. But now….” his voice trailed off as he looked out the window. John had never led me astray in the past, and I trusted him with my life. 

“Alright John, I hear ya, let’s just see what the doc has to say.” I put my hand on his shoulder. We settle into our daily routine, idling the time away, waiting for the doctor. 

There was a knock at the door as the sun was setting, John and I both deep in our reading. I got up and opened the door to find a worried looking Dr Smith standing in front of me. 

“Good evening, Sheriff Clarence, good evening, Deputy Sheriff John.” Dr Smith strode past me and took a seat in a chair at the table. “Can we discuss Mabel’s case?” Before we could even acquiesce, she jumped in headfirst. 

“After examining Mabel, I took the liberty of speaking with those closest to her, and I must admit, I am equal parts worried and perplexed. We have never, in the history of this town, had this kind of a case here, and it seems to be accelerating quickly. As the enforcers of the law, I have come for ethical advice.” Dr Smith was a poignant speaker, making a serious conversation easy to follow and engaging both John and me. We both sat forward, ready to hear what she had to say. 

“I believe Mabel has Switchtwitch Syndrome. Much like the syndrome itself, the cure is elusive. Some say, in big cities, they can cure SS, but no one says where or when or how. In most cases the patient has one of two options. A slow degenerative decline ultimately leading to death, or a quick death performed by a doctor. If SS is caught early, the patient can be asked what they would like, but most cases, like Mabel’s, advance too quickly, and the decision is left to the family. Since Mabel has no family, the decision rests on us. The quick death involves a complex surgery, with tools I am lucky enough to have.” She paused in her monologue, allowing us time to process everything she had said this far. John exhales loudly; I ran my fingers through my hair. 

“Before you start weighing out the options. I want you both to be well informed. The surgery is painless. While it is invasive, she won’t feel a thing. If we decide to not perform the surgery, the decline will not only be scary for Mabel, who will most likely fade in and out of consciousness, but it will be scary for the whole town. We will all bear witness to her decline, and I’m not sure how a small town like this will handle that. I must add, the decline can be loud, and often, messy. I will keep her in a room in my office where I will see her through to the end.” She finished looking at us both. 

“How long do we have to decide?” I cut straight to the chase. I need to know if this is a decision we need to make now or do we have a few hours.

“Well, as soon as possible. Her decline has obviously already started, and she’s gotten….loud. She’s currently locked in my office shouting ‘HELLO, HELLO, HELLO’ her voice changes tone and pitch. If I wasn’t a doctor, I would find it very….unsettling. I say, let’s meet tomorrow morning to make a final decision. Thankfully no one can hear her in my office, so we have a little time.” 

Now it was my turn to exhale loudly, 16 hours to decide the fate of someone’s life. How, but how can this be up to us? I look at John and the doctor, the sadness in my heart reflecting in both of their eyes. 

“Well doc, I appreciate your candidness in this, and I assure you John and I will think this matter through and will come to you with a decision tomorrow. We’ll meet you at your office at 7:00am.” We tossed formalities aside and hugged, the weight of the matter pressing on all of us greatly. 

She left and John stood to leave as well. “How about you and I meet tomorrow morning for a run, let’s say 5:30 am, to discuss this matter. I’d like to go home to my family for the night. My brain is fried. I want to be sure to sleep on a decision as important as this.” I turned to John, hug him, thump him on the back, and agree. I needed some time to myself.

We both retire for the night, resolved to do best by Mabel and the town first thing in the morning. 

 “HELLO, HELLO, HELLO, HELLO, HELLO, HELLO, HELLO” The robotic voice echoed in the big room. Cindy entered the room holding a basket of laundry and sighed out loud. “Ugh, toys are so creepy when their batteries run low. It’s like they have a life of their own. She crouched down under the bed, and pulled out the doll, whose eye was twitching as she emphatically shouted “HELLO” Cindy gave a little shiver, flipped the doll over, opened the back, and pushed the switch to the off position. “Well,” she mused out loud “looks like you need new batteries, little Mabel.” She tucked the doll into the toy box next to the sleeping child, making a mental note to pick up batteries the next time she was at the store.