The Doctor's Tale

by Claire Applewhite

“She said she didn’t love me no more.”

  Emotions seeped from the crevices and cracks, hovered over the couple like a spectral fog. For a moment, neither one spoke.

  “I don’t believe it,” Starr said.

  “That’s exactly what I said, hon. It don’t sound right.”

  “Wait a minute. Are you saying you know where Lori ran off to?”

  The question stung like a slap on the cheek. “Vegas. Vegas is where she said she was going. I told her we might even visit her at Christmas, hon.”

  “You said what? You think Lori’ll live till Christmas? You’re crazy.”

  “I hope so.” Eddie hung his head.

  Starr considered his answer. “You know, I’m starting to think that we’re not going to make it.”

  Eddie stared out the window.

  “You hear me, Eddie?”

  “You say something, Starr?”

  For a moment, Starr didn’t talk. “Nope, Raines,” she finally said. “Forget it. It’s nothing.” She kicked an empty beer can into the corner. “Nothing at all.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Dr. Skelton gazed at the diplomas on the plaster wall. “Hmm,” he said. “Hmm.”

  I stared at the floor. This “conversation” was not going well at all.

  “Dr. Spezia, you do realize you have a serious…” He paused, and then, resumed his soliloquy. “You do understand the severity of losing a patient, do you not?” Dr. Skelton’s gaze could have bored holes in his skull. “This is a very grave problem. It must be resolved immediately.”

  “Dr. Skelton, I’d like to suggest that I did not ‘lose’ Lori Raines. She left, against medical advice. Certainly, I understand the serious nature of this predicament. But I don’t know what I could have done to prevent it.”

  “Dr. Spezia, if you intend to become a practicing physician, you had better figure out what to do to prevent such a situation, or you will not be in practice for long.”

  “Dr. Skelton, I—”

  “Dr. Spezia, this conversation is nearly over. I don’t care how you do it, but you must find Lori Raines.” He glanced at his gold Rolex watch. “That is one problem. I’m sure that you’ve heard about the second one.”

  “Well, I—”

  “I am referring to Dr. Freeman’s issues with substance abuse. Nurse Potts found himoutside the Clinic, a couple of hours ago. He was unconscious. But, that is only part of the story, Spezia.”

  “Is he all right now?”

  Dr. Skelton leaned back in his leather chair and took a deep breath. “Hmm. That is something you will need to determine.”

  “Me?”

  “Well, yes. I looked in on him, and he’s well…needy. Very needy.”

  “Dr. Skelton, it sounds like he’s an addict.”

  Dr. Skelton sighed and smirked, ever so slightly. “It does, doesn’t it?” He rose from his chair. “I have to go now, Spezia. I have a speaking engagement.” He snatched his long, white coat from a brass hook on the back of the door. “Let me know what you find out, hmm? And, I’m sure Mrs. Raines will turn up. She’s a very sick woman. I don’t know why she thought she could travel alone. I do wonder how she’s managing.” The door slammed behind him.

  For once, Dr. Skelton and I had the same idea. I braced myself for the long walk to the Emergency Room. If only Lori Raines and Dr. Freeman could exchange places right now! But, a solution like that would be too perfect for the world of medicine. As far as I could tell, the medical world thrived on rare complications, and problems with no solutions.

  I seemed to be in luck. My world had plenty of both.

  Dr. Freeman gulped two tablets, followed by two more. When he counted his remaining pills, a panic rippled through his body that made him shudder. Five pills wouldn’t get him through another day! But, he reminded himself, if he really put his mind to it, he could quit these pills. Anytime. He just needed to regain his focus, and then, he would quit. He knew he could, if he really wanted to.

  Well, he could.

  Quit.

  If he really wanted to.

  A lone cockroach raced across the terrazzo floor. The sight irritated him. Hurry, hurry, hurry. Everyone was in a tearing hurry. Like that guy Spezia. He liked to drive him crazy yesterday, yelling about that Raines woman. Like, who cares? She’s a dead woman anyway. And Mary Potts, following him everywhere, shouting orders like the end was near.

  Himself, he was way more into that little bit of blonde fluff that trotted down the hall each and every day in those tight white pants. He grinned at the thought of her. He bet she knew how to have a good time. Hadn’t she told him as much last time he saw her? Yep. Yep, she sure did. She wanted to talk all about her bad back and how she needed a realignment here and maybe there too, and well, just about everywhere. Yeah, he recalled that conversation very well. He heard a rustling sound behind him. When he turned around, he saw Mary Potts, heading his way.

  “There you are! Dr. Spezia wanted me to ask you to call him.”

  “Call me? About what?” he said.

  “Thought you might know what he wanted. I guess you don’t.”

  “Know what?”

  “Dr. Freeman, don’t be thinking I’m stupid now, ‘cause I’m onto you something bad. Two nights out of four I know what you’re up to, and it’s not anything good. Not that I’m telling anybody ‘bout it. I know you, just like I know Dr. Spezia and—”

  “He’s your problem.”

  “Ain’t no problem for me.”

  “Oh, yeah? Didn’t his patient go AWOL?”

  Mary’s eyes narrowed. “That is none a your business, hear? And boy, if you’re half as smart as I think you are, you’ll stay away from Goldilocks.”

  “Why?” A wicked sneer crossed his lips. “Is she dating somebody you know? Maybe our poster boy from The Hill, Dr. Spezia?”

  “No sir. And she especially shouldn’t be around a doctor who likes Dilaudid as much as you do.”

  “It’s for my back pain, and I have a prescription. Not that I need to explain it to you.”

  “You don’t need to tell me anything. Just don’t make it my problem, hear?”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “First off, I don’t try to say anything. I just say it. And I’m saying to you, stay away from my drug cabinet, and Miz Hixson. ‘Cause either one, or both a those things will make you wish you never met them. And both of them together will make you wish you were dead. Things around here just ain’t been adding up. Got it?”

  “Ah, c’mon…”

  “Don’t believe me, do you?” Mary struggled to hold her temper, and continued to trudge down the wide hall. Had she turned around, the shock and awe on Freeman’s unlikely face would have amused her, but she was in no mood for anyone else’s problems. After what D’Yan told her this morning, she already had too much on her mind.

  From the moment she arrived that morning, Mary struggled to concentrate. I observed that perhaps she had a throbbing toothache. She looked at me and said, “I do. It’s called D’Yan.”

  I felt like I just stepped on a minefield. Now, the clock was ticking. The best thing I could do for Mary was listen to what she had to say.

  Mary told me she knew how to counsel her daughter. Just twenty years ago, she lived in the same skin. Mary was only fifteen when she had D’Yan, and D’Yan just had herself a fine baby boy. And now, this. Now this. What, Mary asked, was she thinking?

  “Mama, don’t be lookin’ at me like that.” D’Yan brushed a wisp of hair from her greasy forehead. “You know what I been thinking. An’ I ain’t changing my mind.” She collapsed into the cushions of the tired sofa and rubbed her swollen tummy.

  “Well, if I don’t, who’s gonna? Maybe you gone tell me that?” Mary glared at her daughter. “’An I don’t wanna know what you be thinkin’ about, girl. What I wanna know is, were you thinkin’ at all?”

  “I got no time for this stuff.” D’Yan covered her mouth with her hand and struggled to her feet. She barely reached the
bathroom before Mary heard the familiar sound of D’Yan’s retching over the toilet bowl.

  “Dang.” Mary stared at her daughter with hardened eyes. She snatched her keys and strode to the front door.

  “Mama, don’t leave.” D’Yan stood by the bathroom door. She looked young and frightened and hungry.

  “D’yan, girl, I got to go to work.” Mary couldn’t help herself. Her eyes drifted to her daughter’s bulging belly. “Now, more than ever.” She shook her head from side to side, and stepped onto the porch. “Gi-irl!” She said. “Whatchoo be thinking?” The screen door banged behind her.

  Out on the street, she said, she felt better. Tears didn’t seem to matter. A light rain misted her face, while she trudged to the car. What had she done so bad that she deserved another heartache? What had she done, ’cept work all day, everyday, till her eyes burned and her back ached; till her feet swelled and her legs cramped, and her hands swelled up in the space between her thumb and forefinger. Maybe D’Yan would think more if she had to—if her mama didn’t do so much thinking for her. Mary blinked and wiped tears from her face with the back of her hand. She just didn’t know what to think anymore.

  The harsh light of the morning sun blinded her eyes while she yanked on the front door of the hospital. Seemed to her like, these days, folks just weren’t thinking before they decided to do something. They just did what they wanted to do, and thought about the consequences later. She didn’t mean like forgetting to wear socks or spilling a cup of coffee. No, serious things, things that would change their life forever. Like the way Dr. Freeman been getting into the pills. One of these days, he was going to kill somebody, operating when he shouldn’t be walking or talking. The thought chilled her to the bones. Freeman was getting worse, and no one seemed to care.

  She didn’t know what to do about any of it, she told me. She wondered if I did.

  I shook my head. This problem had a problem. Mary was right.

  No one cared.

  EIGHTEEN

  The Emergency Room seemed slow for a Saturday night. So slow, I almost forgot that chaos could explode at any time. You see, I didn’t yet know that when I was on call, a comfortable feeling should never be trusted. I reached for the coffeepot and poured the thick liquid into a Styrofoam cup, tasted the brew, and winced.

  I wondered if Lori Raines received my message. I wondered how long it would take for her to arrive in Las Vegas. Mostly, I wondered why Dr. Skelton didn’t help me find her. It was almost as if he blamed me for Mrs. Raines’ departure. And there, he could just wait a damn minute—

  The doors to the ER smacked against the plaster. Out in the hall, I heard a woman’s voice, screaming in a feverish pitch. “My baby’s bleeding to death! Bleeding to death, hear? Help us! Somebody, please help us!”

  I recognized that voice. In under thirty seconds, I dropped the coffee cup into a trashcan and rushed to the end of the hall. At the sight of me, Mary Potts burst into tears.

  “Doctor, help us! My baby’s bleeding to death!”

  If there was one thing St. Louis City Hospital taught me over the years, it was how little control people actually have over their lives. In just a few seconds, everything had changed.

  I turned to Cherise Carver, one of the ward clerks. She was reclined in a ripped lounge chair, idly chewing on a piece of cherry licorice.

  “Cherise,” I said, “where’s Dr. Kinney?”

  “He with a code.” Cherise gulped, and stole another bite of licorice. “’An Dr. Moberly, he went home sick.”

  “Page Dr. Freeman right away. Now!”

  “I can hear,” Cherise said. She picked up the receiver and punched some buttons. “You don’t have to holler at me like that.”

  “I’m sorry, Cherise. I am. It’s just tension.”

  “People and they nerves getting to be a problem ‘round here,” Cherise said.

  “Mary, let’s get your daughter in the big room over here,” I said. “Now tell me what happened.”

  Mary’s eyes brimmed with tears of fright and frustration. Still, I saw a faint flicker of hope hiding deep inside, stifled by years of disillusionment. “My baby fell down the steps, and now she’s bleeding. She’s p-p—pregnant!”

  “Get her on the bed,” I said. “Get oxygen on her. I need a blood pressure. Drop her head. Drop the head of the bed into Trendelenberg.” At the foot of the bed, I raised the young woman’s skirts. Dark blood gushed and pooled between her legs. “Page the OB Resident STAT. And she needs blood. Now! Get two units of O POS blood STAT.”

  I turned to Mary. “She’s going to need a Central Line. I’ll get everything ready for Dr. Freeman.” I opened the tray and plucked a 14 gauge central catheter from the interior. “Anybody know where Freeman is? This case can’t wait.”

  “He didn’t answer his page, Dr. Spezia.”

  “Great.” I took a deep breath. “Okay, give me some Betadine. Please.” I knew my voice sounded hoarse. I felt tense and more than a little nervous, but I knew I had to keep going. Somewhere, I heard a radio playing “Born to be Wild”.

  Brown Betadine splashed into a bowl on the surgical tray. I painted D’Yan’s neck with the antiseptic, and jammed towels around the puncture site. Finally, I glanced up at Mary and the orderly. “Where is Freeman?”

  “Still not here, Dr. Spezia,” the orderly said.

  “Nurse, what’s her blood pressure?”

  “I’ve lost her blood pressure, Dr. Spezia.”

  I had to insert the catheter into the jugular vein in D’Yan’s neck. Without blood and IV fluids, D’Yan would most certainly die, probably in the next few minutes. I glanced at Mary. The expression on her face sparked a sudden realization: I was her only hope.

  “You ever done one a these before?” she asked. I knew that she already knew the answer.

  I took a deep breath. “Mary, I know I can do this.”

  “Doctor, I’m losing her,” the nurse said.

  “Do it,” Mary said.

  Hope blazed like a bonfire.

  I jammed my gloved finger over D’Yan’s neck and pushed, searching, searching…

  “What you doing?”

  “I’m feeling for the carotid artery. There it is. There.”

  “What?”

  “Her pulse. Here we go. Hold on, D’Yan. I’m sorry about this.” I jabbed the needle into her jugular vein. Dark blood flowed into the syringe. I sighed with relief. “Got it. Give me a liter of normal saline. You okay, D’Yan?”

  Mary stood at the other end of the bed. “She’s okay,” she said. She nodded her head and studied D’Yan’s face, already etched with worry lines. “Yeah, she’s all right.”

  “Doctor, the blood’s here,” the orderly said. “You want it?”

  “Yes. Right here, please.” I connected the blood and began to squeeze the bag. “Where’s Freeman?” I knew my voice sounded angry, but considering the rage bubbling inside of me, that somehow seemed appropriate.

  “Still no answer, Doctor.”

  “Page the OB resident STAT. This is inexcusable.”

  “What’s inexcusable?” An older man with white hair strode into the room. Despite the time and place, he appeared alert and dapper. “I heard your STAT page, but I was running a code. What’s up here?”

  “My baby was bleeding to death, Dr. Kinney,” Mary said, “but she gonna make it now. Thanks to Dr. Spezia. No thanks to Dr. Freeman, wherever he is.”

  “What’s her blood pressure, nurse?” I said.

  “60 palpable.”

  “Relax, Spezia,” Dr. Kinney said. “I’ll take it from here.”

  A young man rushed into the room. “Someone page the OB resident?”

  Dr. Kinney answered him. “This woman has a uterine hemorrhage. Where is Dr. Freeman?”

  “I’m going to find out.” I jammed one arm into my white coat and stormed out of the examination room.

  “He’ll find him,” Mary said. “And when he does, it ain’t going to be pretty.”

  Dr. Fr
eeman felt a bit dizzy, sure. Didn’t everyone? After all, he’d been at the hospital for what—two, three—days? He had to admit, he didn’t know how long he’d been anywhere. He remembered when his jaw felt numb and his knee began to wobble like an old card table. After that, he couldn’t recall what happened.

  All he knew was that he woke up in a hospital bed without his wallet and his keys. He could replace those items, because he could talk about them—people empathized with victims. In his experience, nobody cared about a guy who couldn’t find his dope. And that—that, is a major issue for a guy who needed dope, the way he did, right now.

  He saw Nurse Potts at the end of the hall. He knew she could help him. He would help her, if she needed anything the way he needed it right now. One shot of morphine would get him back on his feet. A few of these pills and a handful of those, and he’d be back among the living again. Why did she look at him like that?

  “Hey! It’s Dr. Freeman, Mary! I’m not feeling very good today. Think you could you help me out?” But, she walked away, almost as if she wanted to avoid him. Oh, now that wasn’t a good idea at all.

  He was a doctor, first in his medical school class, going to be a surgeon in one short year, how about that? Get Mary over here and she’ll tell you. He just needed a shot of morphine to tide him over until he could get his hands on a decent number of Dilaudid, just enough to stop the itching. His stomach flip-flopped. The room spun around his head. The next thing he knew, a crazy man that looked like Spezia was up in his face, screeching like a fire alarm—

  “As long as no one got hurt, I tolerated your sarcasm, your arrogance and your insults.” I grabbed the front of Freeman’s scrub suit, and twisted the fabric until it ripped. “But now, things are gonna change.”

  “Frankly, Spezia, until now, I didn’t think you could open a jar of mayonnaise. Didn’t think you cared that much about anything either. So, what changed, huh Babyface? Why the attitude? This is no five alarm fire drill. You seriously need to chill, man. Look at me. I can smell this corpse in the bed next to me, and you don’t see me getting all picky and stuff. Why are you so bent out of shape?”