by Robin Cook
A muffled bell sounded to herald the arrival of an elevator. Kim looked over to see a hefty man dressed in a conservative gray business suit disembark. To Kim’s surprise, he came directly up to him.
“Dr. Reggis?” the man inquired. His voice was robust and commanding.
“I’m Dr. Reggis,” Kim agreed.
“I’m Barclay Bradford,” the man said stiffly. “I’m a vice president of the hospital and the acting chief administrator for the evening shift.”
“How convenient,” Kim said. “What I’d advise you to do is to go back into the ER, locate the asshole acting head of the department, and drag him out here. He and I have something to talk about. You see, I’ve been waiting for two and a half hours to have my daughter seen.”
“Dr. Reggis,” Barclay began as if Kim had not even spoken. “As a member of our professional staff, particularly a surgeon, you of all people know that triage is necessary in a busy ER. Life-threatening problems have to take precedence over simple juvenile diarrhea.”
“Of course I understand triage,” Kim shot back. “I’ve worked in ER’s all through my training. But let me tell you something. When I walked in here ten minutes ago, there had to be a dozen ER staff hanging out behind this counter drinking coffee and chitchatting.”
“Appearances never tell the whole story,” Barclay commented condescendingly. He fluttered his eyelids. “They were probably conferring with each other over particularly difficult cases. But regardless, your childish behavior of pounding a letter box on a countertop cannot be tolerated. It’s entirely inappropriate for you to demand special treatment.”
“Special treatment!” Kim sputtered. “Childish behavior!” His face reddened and his eyes bulged. The administrator in front of him suddenly embodied his frustrations about the present emergency-room experience, the hospital merger, AmeriCare, and modern medicine in general. With a sudden fit of fury and losing all semblance of control, Kim struck the administrator with a lightning blow to the chin.
Kim shook his hand and clasped it with his other in response to the sudden pain in his knuckle. At the same time, Barclay rocked back on his heels, teetered, then fell heavily to the floor. Kim was stunned by his violent reaction. Taking a step forward, he looked down at Barclay and felt an impulse to help the man up.
A collective gasp arose from the staff behind the desk. The security guard came running. The clerk grabbed the intercom to announce: “Mayday at the nurses’ desk.”
From the depths of the ER, residents, nurses, and orderlies came streaming out. Even Tracy appeared after hearing the announcement. A crowd gathered around Kim and Barclay. The hospital VP had pushed himself up to a sitting position. He touched a hand to his lip. It was bleeding.
“Damn it, Kim!” Tracy said. “I warned you!”
“This is totally unacceptable,” Monica said. She turned to the clerk. “Call the police!”
“Hold up, don’t call anybody!” a deep, resonant voice called. The crowd parted. A powerfully built, handsome African-American man appeared. He snapped latex gloves from his hands as he walked into the center of the ring. The name tag pinned to his scrub top read: DR. DAVID WASHINGTON, ACTING CHIEF EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT. His eyes went from Kim down to Barclay. “What’s going on here?”
“Mr. Bradford was just struck by this man,” Monica said, pointing at Kim. “And that was after he destroyed a letter box by bashing it against the counter.”
“Believe it or not, he’s a doctor on the hospital staff,” Molly added.
David put out a hand and got Barclay to his feet. David glanced at the man’s split lip and palpated along the line of his jaw.
“Are you all right?” David asked the administrator.
“I think so,” Barclay said. He got out a handkerchief and dabbed at his bloodied lip.
David turned to Monica. “Take Mr. Bradford back and get him cleaned up. And have Dr. Krugger take a look at him to see if we should get an X-ray.”
“Sure,” Monica said. She grasped Barclay’s arm above the elbow to guide him through the crowd. Barclay glared at Kim before allowing himself to be led away.
“Everyone else, back to work,” David said, with a wave of his hand. Then he turned to Kim, who’d recovered his senses.
“What is your name?” David asked.
“Dr. Kim Reggis.”
“Did you really hit Mr. Bradford?” David asked incredulously.
“I’m afraid so,” Kim said.
“What on earth could have provoked you?” David asked.
Kim took a deep breath. “That prig condescendingly accused me of demanding special treatment when my sick child has been waiting for two and a half hours.”
David stared at Kim for a beat. He was mystified at such behavior from a colleague. “What’s the child’s name?” he asked.
“Rebecca Reggis,” Kim said.
David turned to the clerk and asked for Rebecca’s sign-in sheet. The clerk fumbled through the stack.
“Are you really on staff here at the University Med Center?” David asked while he waited for the sheet.
“Since the merger,” Kim said. “I’m one of the cardiac surgeons, although you’d never know it the way I’ve been treated here in the ER.”
“We do the best we can,” David said.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that excuse several times tonight,” Kim said.
David eyed Kim again. “You know, you should be ashamed of yourself,” he said. “Punching people out, smashing letter boxes. You’re acting like some malcontent teenager.”
“Screw you,” Kim said.
“For the moment I’m going to chalk that remark up to stress,” David said.
“Don’t be patronizing,” Kim said.
“Here it is,” the clerk said. He handed the sign-in sheet to David.
David glanced at it, then looked at his watch. “At least you’re right about the time. It’s been close to three hours. That’s certainly no justification for your behavior, but it’s too long to wait.”
David looked at Tracy. “Are you Mrs. Reggis?” he asked.
“I’m Rebecca Reggis’s mother,” Tracy said.
“Why don’t you get the young lady. I’ll personally see to it she’s seen immediately.”
“Thank you,” Tracy said. She hurried out to the waiting room.
David went behind the desk to get a clipboard for the sign-in sheet. He also used the intercom to get a nurse to come out. When he reemerged, Tracy was back with Becky in tow. A moment later a nurse appeared. Her name tag identified her as Nicole Michaels.
“How are you feeling, young lady?” David asked Becky.
“Not too good,” Becky admitted. “I want to go home.”
“I’m sure you do,” David said. “But first let’s check you out. Why don’t you go ahead with Nicole. She’ll get you situated in one of the examination cubicles.”
Tracy, Becky, and Kim started forward. David reached out to restrain Kim.
“I’d prefer that you wait out here, if you don’t mind,” David said.
“I’m going with my daughter,” Kim stated.
“No, you are not,” David said. “You’ve proved yourself emotionally stressed. You’re acting like a loose cannon.”
Kim hesitated. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, David had a point. Still, it was irritating and demeaning.
“Come on, Doctor,” David said. “Surely you understand.”
Kim cast a glance at the receding image of Becky and Tracy. He looked back at David, who was not about to be intimidated, physically or otherwise.
“But . . .” Kim began.
“No buts,” David said. “Don’t make me call the police, which I’ll do if you don’t cooperate.”
Reluctantly Kim turned around and walked back to the waiting room. There were no seats, so he leaned up against the wall by the entrance. He tried to watch the television but couldn’t concentrate. He raised his hand and looked at it; he was trembling.
A half hour la
ter Tracy and Becky emerged from the treatment area. It was by chance that Kim happened to see them as they pushed through the exit door. They were leaving without even having tried to find him.
Kim quickly gathered his coat and gloves and hurried after them. He caught up to them just as Tracy was helping Becky climb into the car.
“What are you going to do?” Kim demanded. “Just ignore me?”
Tracy didn’t say anything. She shut the door behind Becky and then walked around to the driver’s-side door.
Kim followed and put his hand on the door to keep it from opening.
“Please, don’t cause any more trouble,” Tracy said. “You’ve already embarrassed both of us.”
Taken aback by this new and unexpected affront, Kim took his hand away. Tracy got into the car. She reached for the door but then didn’t close it. She looked up into Kim’s surprised and hurt face. “Go home and get some sleep,” she said. “That’s what we’re going to do.”
“What happened in there?” Kim asked. “What did they say?”
“Not much,” Tracy reported. “Apparently her blood count and electrolytes, whatever they are, are fine. I’m supposed to give her broth and other fluids and lay off the dairy products.”
“Is that all?” Kim asked.
“That’s it,” Tracy said. “But, by the way, they said the culprit could very well have been Ginger’s chicken. They see a lot of food poisoning secondary to chicken.”
“It wasn’t,” Kim shot back. “No way! Ask Becky! She was feeling sick the morning before the chicken.” Kim leaned over to talk directly to his daughter. “Isn’t that right, Pumpkin?”
“I want to go home,” Becky said, staring out through the windshield.
“Good night, Kim,” Tracy said. She pulled the door shut, started the car, and drove away.
Kim watched the car until it had disappeared behind the corner of the hospital. Only then did he start walking toward the doctors’ parking area. He felt alone, more alone than he’d ever felt in his life.
SEVEN
Tuesday, January 20th
The OR door burst open, and Kim and Tom entered the scrub area outside OR number 20. As they did so, they untied their face masks and let them drop down over their chests. They rinsed off the talc from their hands.
“Hey, thanks for lending a hand on such short notice,” Tom said.
“Glad to help,” Kim said flatly.
The two men started walking up the corridor toward the recovery room.
“You seem down in the dumps,” Tom said. “What happened? Did your accountant just call you about your bottom line in response to the new Medicare reimbursement rates?”
Kim didn’t laugh. He didn’t respond at all.
“Are you all right?” Tom asked, seriously this time.
“I suppose,” Kim said without emotion. “Just a lot of aggravation.” Kim then told Tom what had happened in the ER the night before.
“Whoa!” Tom commented when Kim was finished. “What a God awful experience! But don’t be down on yourself for taking a poke at that Barclay Bradford character. I had a mini run-in with him myself. Administrators! You know, I read in a journal last night that in the United States there’s currently one administrator for every one and a half doctors or nurses. Can you believe that?”
“Yeah, I can,” Kim said. “That’s a big part of why our healthcare costs are so high.”
“That was exactly the point of the article,” Tom said. “But anyway, I can understand why you popped Bradford. If it had been me, I know I would have been bullshit. Three hours! Hell, I’d a punched him out as a minimum.”
“Thanks, Tom,” Kim said. “I appreciate your support. But the worst part of the whole episode is that after all that wait and aggravation, I never got a chance to talk with the doctor who examined Becky.”
“How’s she doing today?”
“I don’t know yet,” Kim said. “It was too early for me to call when I got up, and Tracy hasn’t called me. But she’s got to be doing better. Her bloodwork was fine, and she’s been afebrile.”
“Dr. Reggis!” a voice called.
Kim turned to see Deborah Silverman, the OR head nurse, beckoning toward him. Kim detoured to the OR desk.
“Dr. Biddle called while you were in surgery,” Deborah said. “He left a message for you to stop into his office as soon as you were out.”
Kim took the message slip. It was punctuated with a number of exclamation points. Apparently it was serious.
“Uh-oh!” Tom commented over Kim’s shoulder. “Sounds to me like the chief is planning on adding to your aggravation.”
Kim and Tom parted ways at the recovery-room door. Kim went into the surgical locker room. Despite the implied urgency of Forrester Biddle’s message, Kim took his time. It wasn’t hard to guess what Forrester wanted to see him about. The problem was that after a point, Kim wasn’t sure he understood his own behavior.
Kim took a shower and mulled over in his mind the previous evening’s experience. He didn’t reach any epiphany beyond admitting he’d been unduly stressed. After dressing in a clean set of scrubs, Kim used the phone in the surgical lounge to call Ginger at the office to discuss the afternoon schedule. Only then did he make his way over to the chief’s office in the administration wing.
Dr. Forrester Biddle was the quintessential New England conservative. He had the gaunt look of a Puritan preacher and the acerbic personality to go with it. His only redeeming quality was that he was an excellent surgeon.
“Come in and close the door,” Forrester said as Kim stepped into his cramped, journal-filled office. “Take a seat.”
Kim sat down. Forrester made him wait while some paperwork was being completed. Kim’s eyes roamed the room. Kim noted he’d had a much better office as chief over at the Samaritan.
After adding his signature with a flourish, Forrester slapped down his pen on his desk top so that it sounded like a distant report of a firearm.
“I’ll get right to the point,” he said, assuming an expression more stern than usual. “Your behavior last night in the emergency room is an embarrassment to this department as well as to the entire medical staff.”
“My daughter was in pain,” Kim said simply. It was an explanation not an excuse. He was not inclined to sound remorseful.
“There’s no excuse for violence,” Forrester remarked. “Mr. Bradford is considering filing charges, and I wouldn’t blame him if he did.”
“If anybody gets sued it should be AmeriCare,” Kim said. “I waited over three hours mostly so that AmeriCare can maximize profits.”
“Assaulting an administrator is no way to make social commentary,” Forrester said. “Nor, I might add, is appealing directly to the media. I wasn’t going to say anything about your quote Kelly Anderson gave during the Friday night news until this inexcusable episode of battery. Saying publicly that the rationale for the merger of the University Medical Center and the Samaritan was to benefit AmeriCare’s bottom line hurts the reputation of this hospital.”
Kim stood up. The meeting was not going to be a discussion, and there was no way Kim would sit there and absorb reprimands like a delinquent schoolboy. “If that’s all, I have patients to see.”
Forrester pushed his chair back and stood up as well. “I think you should keep in mind, Dr. Reggis,” he said, “this department seriously considered hiring a full-time, salaried surgeon to cover your area of valve replacement prior to the merger. Your behavior of late is making us reevaluate that issue.”
Kim turned around and left without responding. He wasn’t about to validate such a comment. It was hardly the threat that Forrester intended. In reality Kim was being repeatedly recruited to take over a number of prestigious departments around the country. The only reason he was still at the University Medical Center was because of shared custody of Becky and the fact that Tracy couldn’t move because of her matriculation in the liberal arts college.
But Kim was again angry. Of late it see
med to be his constant state of mind. Striding out of the administrative area of the hospital, he practically ran head-on into Kelly Anderson and her cameraman, Brian.
“Ah!” Kelly squealed with apparent delight. “Dr. Reggis! Just the man I’ve been hoping to see.”
Kim flashed a nasty glance at the TV journalist and continued down the corridor at a brisk pace. Kelly reversed directions and ran after him. Brian kept pace despite his burden of equipment.
“My God, Dr. Reggis,” Kelly panted. “Are you in training for a marathon? Slow down. I need to talk with you.”
“I’ve no intention of talking with you,” Kim said.
“But I want to hear your side of last night’s ER episode,” Kelly said.
Kim pulled up short, forcing Brian to collide with him. Brian apologized effusively. Kim ignored him and peered at Kelly in surprise. “How in God’s name did you hear about that and so quickly?”
“Surprised you, huh!” Kelly remarked with a sly, self-satisfied smile. “But I’m sure you understand that I can’t reveal my sources. You see, I do so many medical-related stories that I’ve developed a kind of fifth column here at the med center. You’d be surprised about the gossip I get. Unfortunately it’s usually as prosaic as who’s screwing whom. But once in a while, I get a real tip, like your episode in the ER last night. Cardiac surgeon punches out administrator: that’s news!”
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Kim responded. He recommenced walking.
Kelly caught up to him. “Ah, but I think you do,” she said. “Having to wait three hours in an emergency room with a sick child must have been a major aggravation that I’d love to discuss.”
“Too bad,” Kim said. “Among other things I was just reprimanded for giving you that bottom-line quote. I’m not talking with you.”
“So the administration hates the truth,” Kelly said. “That in itself is interesting.”
“I’m not talking to you,” Kim repeated. “You might as well save your breath.”
“Oh, come on!” Kelly said. “Your having to wait hours to be seen in the emergency room will strike a familiar chord with my viewers, especially with the ironic twist that it’s a doctor doing the waiting. We don’t even have to discuss the assault and battery part if you don’t want.”
