The California Coven Project

by Bob Stickgold

  “Prescription drugs.” Beckie sank into the chair across from Maggie. “She’s been seeing Flatters regularly since she became pregnant, apparently at the insistence of her mother.” Flatters was one of the few obstetricians in the area who still felt that an uncomplicated pregnancy should still be monitored by an M.D. Flatters just told me today! Doreen had been going every two weeks without mentioning a word to me. Anyhow, Flatters’ office is in the new hospital complex, and apparently Doreen picked up hospital strep during one of her visits. She came down with a strep throat, and the culture showed it was a super-strep. Flatters tried half a dozen antibiotics on her, but nothing would touch it. Eventually, he called in the complex’s Infectious Disease Monitor, but by then it was obvious that Doreen should be hospitalized She picked up another infection in the hospital, and they ended up trying a series of experimental antibiotics, and apparently one of them, aside from its shred of antibiotic activity, is lethal to fetuses.

  “Do they at least know which one?” Maggie asked.

  Beckie shrugged. “Maggie, they’re in such a panic over the superstrains, they’re running out new antibiotics as fast as they can tailor them. Flatters said preliminary results suggest that not one but three of them might cause fetal deaths in animals. But the FDA has cut the testing requirements down so far that the drugs are on the market two to three years before the companies finish their tests. With no effective treatments for some of the strains, the doctors are in so much trouble that they’re not particularly worried about side effects.” She shook her head, and then suddenly pounded her fist on Maggie’s desk.

  “Its the same issue, too. Those damn doctors have been so concerned with doing everything themselves, with curing every disease that comes along without letting the patient help with proper rest, and diet, that they’ve thrown every antibiotic they have against every infection they see for almost fifty years. So now the bacteria are all drug-resistant, and the hospitals are grinding to a standstill. But they still won’t admit that maybe they’ve been wrong to approach the problem in such a heroic, combative style.

  “Maggie, the medical profession’s acquiescence to the practice of midwifery is the proof of their failure. Hospital infections are so common nowadays, and so deadly, that it’s not safe to be in a hospital anymore.” She shook her head again. “And the medical establishment won’t admit one word of it. All they say is, ‘It’s a good thing for the American public that the drug companies have been able to come up with these new antibiotics so fast, because now that the old ones are useless, you really have to count on science to keep you alive. If it wasn’t for the progress of science and medicine, you people would be in big trouble.’ The arrogance! If it wasn’t for their bumbling, we’d never be in this predicament now.”

  Maggie smiled consolingly. “It isn’t just politics we’re fighting about, is it? We’re fighting for our lives, and the lives of our patients, and our friends.” They sat silently a moment, and then Maggie shook her head. “Its so terrible when a woman loses a child, It happens so suddenly, so unexpectedly.”

  Beckie looked up and took a deep breath, “That’s another thing that has me upset. Flatters didn’t mention it, but when I called Doreen, just before coming in here, she said that she had told Flatters a week ago that she was getting bad cramps when she took some of the medications.”

  “And he didn’t change the medication?”

  “Oh, well, you know. He said it was probably just normal Braxton-Hicks contractions, and she was just getting all excited about them with no cause. So he told the Infectious Disease Monitor not to worry about it.”

  Maggie slammed her open hand down on the desk. “I can’t believe they still do that! I can’t believe that they’re still so stupid about that.”

  “Flatters?” Beckie asked. “He’s not stupid. He wouldn’t be at Stanford if he was. No, Flatters is just one of those wonderful doctors who thinks that women have lots of emotions and no brains. You know, men have diseases and women have spells. It’s all in our heads.”

  Maggie sighed. “I know, I know. It’s just that sometimes I refuse to believe how sexist so many doctors are. We stopped their discouraging women from breast-feeding and prescribing drugs that made it impossible to breast-feed. We beat them back on forceps deliveries, and general anesthesia, We beat them back on induced labor. All of that since the early ’70’s.”

  Beckie nodded. “I remember that the rate of Caesarian sections had topped fifty per cent in a lot of hospitals in the mid-’80s. I knew doctors who told women that they were being selfish if they wanted to deliver vaginally, it threatened the health of the child! And they used the same line in opposing home births, until their own hospitals became so deadly even they had to admit it wasn’t safe. Beating them doesn’t seem to convince them were right, and a lot of them out there would still just as soon yank the baby out as sit around the extra half-hour and wait for the woman to do it.”

  “And now Doreen has lost her child,” Maggie said, “and we’re out there fighting again, fighting for the right of women to participate in their own labors and deliveries, without any more interference than necessary.”

  Beckie smiled. “And we’ll win again.”

  Chapter Twelve

  THE next morning, Maggie spent a couple of hours appropriating the ambulance and unloading oxygen and other gear that might be needed at the clinic, and then drove back home. She bathed and fed Ann and got her dressed for the trip. With the help of a wheelchair, she took Ann out to the ambulance over her objections that she was strong enough to walk. By eleven, they were headed for Stanford.

  As they wound their way through the hills, they talked about Carol, and Maggie when she was a girl, and Ann reminisced about being a teenager. It was a pleasant time, and they were able to forget briefly where they were going and why. Occasionally, a car would abruptly pull over ahead, reacting to the sudden appearance of an ambulance behind it.

  They made good time through the hills, and headed north, up the interstate to Palo Alto. They arrived at the hospital at 12:35.

  With help from an emergency-room orderly, Maggie transferred Ann to a rolling bed, and wheeled her to the X-ray section. Bill Krueger, notified by the emergency-room staff, was waiting for them at X-ray. “HI. Ann.” He walked over and stood beside her, putting a hand on her arm. “Maggie says you’re feeling a lot better.”

  Ann grunted. “Except she won’t let me get up and around like I want to. No respect for parents anymore.” She was always grouchy with Krueger. “Well, what’s holding things up? Let’s get this over with.”

  Krueger smiled. “It’ll be another fifteen minutes, I’m afraid, before we can get you in. Maggie said the pain isn’t as bad as before?”

  Ann scowled. “Small talk. Won’t make the time go any faster. No pain at all anymore. Convincing Maggie to let me walk to the bathroom, or out to the kitchen for food, those are the biggest pains I’ve got now.” She stopped and smiled sheepishly. “Well, that must have killed a minute. Fourteen to go.”

  Krueger smiled again. “Right you are. Fourteen and counting.” He turned to Maggie. “Maggie, if I could see you in the office a minute?”

  Maggie nodded. “We’ll be back in a few minutes, Mom. Okay?”

  Ann’s face turned sullen. “Didn’t mean to scare you all away, Doc.”

  “You didn’t, Ann, I’m as tough as you are. It’s just the forms have to be signed before we can run the scan on you. We’ll just be a minute.”

  Maggie followed Krueger into his office Sure enough, the forms were on his desk, and after glancing over them cursorily she signed them. Krueger checked the forms briefly, then turned to Maggie. “How has the been over the weekend?”

  “Better. She’s put on another pound, and insists on walking to the kitchen for one meal a day. She’s regaining her strength, I think. You saw how improved her attitude is.”

  Krueger laughed. “You’re right there. Its been a long time since she’s been her old, obnoxious self. Yo
u still think that she might be in remission?”

  “I still think she’s cured.”

  “Can you tell me why?”

  “No.” She held her gaze on his eyes, refusing to back off. “Can we put this discussion off till after the scan? It won’t matter if her condition’s unchanged.”

  He started to object, then said “Fair enough. Let’s cheek on how they’re doing.”

  Back in the waiting room, Maggie went to Ann’s side. She could see Ann was tense. And so was she. They hadn’t talked about it since leaving Santa Cruz, but soon they’d know whether their hoping was in vain. Maggie noticed a tiny tear in the corner of Ann’s eye, and squeezed her hand hard. Her eyes were wet, too. Krueger returned and stood on the opposite side of the cart. “They’ll take her now.”

  An orderly came up and stood at the foot of the dolly. He waited patiently while Maggie kissed Ann and whispered a word of good luck to her. Then, as Maggie released her band he silently pushed Ann through the double doors into the X-ray room.

  Krueger turned to Maggie. “Well, she’ll be in there for the better part of a half-hour, so, unless you have something you want to talk about? . . .”

  Maggie shook her head no.

  “Then I’ll be back in about half an hour. They’ll call me when she’s ready to come out.” With a smile, he turned and departed.

  Maggie looked around the waiting room. People sat singly and in pairs, silently staring ahead or reading last months Time or Doctor’s World. Noticing a free seat, she went over and sat down. Depression settled over her, which was confusing because she was confident about the tests. Fear she could have understood, but profound sadness was unexpected.

  She picked up a magazine, and then dropped it in her lap, unopened, It was loneliness that she saw. Aloneness. Everyone in the room was experiencing emotional trauma. An X ray was to show how badly you were hurt. It could never be a calm, unimportant event. Yet these people sat with calm, blank expressions on their faces. A sign on the wall read THANK YOU FOR NOT SMOKING, and Maggie could imagine another one next to it: THANK YOU FOR HIDING YOUR EMOTIONS. That was another part of modem medical practice—illness without emotion. All those doctors incapable of dealing with the deep anguish and sorrow of their patients, solving the problem by denying their patients the right to have or to express emotions. And so the feelings all lay locked inside emotionless exteriors. To fight off her depression, she lifted the magazine from her lap, and read the news of last Christmas.

  She read how the firemen of Syracuse had collected and fixed toys for poor children, she read how suicides were up and divorces down for the holiday season, and the Dow Jones averages were stable in light trading. When she looked up, Krueger stood before her.

  “The technician said they were on the last set,” he told her, “so Ann should be out in just a minute or two. It’ll be five minutes then, before the results are sent up.” He paused a moment, and then continued. “You want to come with me to look at the results, or wait here with Ann?”

  She considered, then shook her head. “No. Mom’s going to need me here more. I’ll wait with her.”

  Krueger nodded. “Okay. Then I think I’ll head back there now, so I can get them as soon as they’re up. Maggie, you know that I’d like to see a clean scan as much as you would, but—well, you should be ready for the news that there’s been no substantial change.”

  Maggie smiled. “We’re both trying to keep that in mind.”

  He nodded again and left.

  As Krueger had promised, Ann re-emerged within a minute and she came through the doors, Maggie bent over and gave her a big hug. “Dr. Krueger was here just a minute ago. He said that it’d take about five minutes for the results to come up. So he went to wait for them. I guess we’ll know then.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am, if you’ll let me get her over to the staging area, I can leave the two of you together. You’re blocking the doorway.” Without waiting for a reply, the orderly gave the cart a shove, and quickly walked Ann’s dolly over to a recession in the wall.

  A staging area, Maggie thought. They’re even using military terminology. Shaking the thought from her head, she turned to Ann. “How was it?” she asked.

  Ann grimaced. “Push, push, hurry, hurry. It’s an expensive machine, you know, and they can’t have any dilly-dallying.” She tried to sound irritated, but her voice trembled.

  Maggie stood there, holding Ann’s hand, and they said nothing more to each other.

  Finally, Krueger left the X-ray office. He smiled noncommittally, then dropped his glance to the floor. Though his expression had been meaningless, Maggie was sure the results were not what he had expected. He reached the dolly, and touched Ann’s arm.

  “Well,” he began, “I must admit that the results look good.” Under Maggie’s hands she could feel Ann relax. “But now I want to send you back in for a thorough set of scans, Ann, so that we can see just how good things really are.”

  “Bill,” Maggie pleaded, “what did you see?”

  He paused a second, composing his response. “The scans that I ran were just to check and see if the main tumors were still present, I saw none. But I must emphasize that the scans were not of the highest possible resolution because I felt it wouldn’t be needed. So now we have to take some more, before I can really say anything definite.”

  Maggie laughed. “Bill Krueger! You just ran straight X rays, didn’t you? You didn’t think you’d see any change because you didn’t believe a word I said to you.”

  Krueger frowned. “You’re right about the X rays, and half right about my believing you. You said you thought Ann was cured, and I knew that you believed that. But I was sure that you were mistaken.”

  “And now?”

  “And now we all have to wait for the results of this next set of scans.”

  “The first set of scans.”

  Krueger nodded, slightly irritated. “The first set.”

  “Maggie?” Ann looked up at her, not understanding the conversation.

  “It looks good, Mom. Dr. Krueger couldn’t find any sign of the tumors, but he wants some more X rays just to be sure.” A big smile swept her face.

  Ann’s expression gave no indication of her feelings. Turning to Krueger, she said, “Well, let’s get on with the tests.”

  As she spoke the door to the scan room opened, and someone was wheeled out. “Okay,” Krueger said, “it’s our turn. I’ll wheel you in myself.” Moving to the head of the dolly, he pushed Ann toward the door, then stopped and turned to Maggie. “I should be out in a minute, and I’d like to talk with you?”

  Maggie nodded, returned to her seat, and picked up her magazine. The economy, she read, was starting that long-expected turn for the better, maybe.

  It was almost ten minutes before Krueger returned from the scanner room. He was visibly shaken. Maggie rose and crossed quickly to him. Krueger nodded to her. “Let’s talk.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and strode off toward his office. They were inside, the door closed, before he said any more.

  “Maggie, I waited for the results of the first high-res series so that I could see the composite for the abdominal region where Ann’s main and largest tumors were. There is absolutely nothing left in the area. It’ll take forty-five minutes for them to complete the scans over her entire body, but three large and four or five small tumors should show in the scan I’ve got here, and they are all gone.” He passed the scan to Ann. “Normally, I would say nothing until I saw the results of the other scans, but I’m convinced. There’s been a remission here, the likes of which I’ve read about in texts but never seen myself—I don’t know anyone who’s ever seen one like it if we just talk about the abdominal region that the scan you’re holding covers, the likelihood of a remission like that is, at best, one in ten thousand—or one in a hundred thousand, I don’t know. For some reason you felt convinced that it was happening, so I’m not going to call it a ‘spontaneous’ remission. I think Ann received some treatment that ca
used the remission.” He stopped for just a second, and then finally asked, “Did she?”

  Maggie stared him straight in the eye. “Yes.”

  “Are you going to tell me what it was?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “But Maggie!”

  “Wait, Bill,” she insisted. “First, I have to see what happens with the rest of the scans. Then I have to deal with Ann. Look,” she continued, “I’ll tell you this much, and I don’t know if it’ll make you feel better or worse. I gave Ann some medicine that I concocted myself. There were reasons which I felt made it worth trying, and they’ve obviously proved right. But the situation’s complicated, and I have to think it through before I can talk to anyone else about it.”

  “But Maggie,” Krueger insisted, “every day, hundreds of people . . .”

  “I know!” she said, raising her voice for the first time. “Dammit, Bill, I know as well as you do how many die every day from cancer, and how much suffering is going on because of it. Do you take me for an idiot?”

  He made no response.

  “Look, you’re just going to have to trust me. When I’m ready to give out details, I promise that you’ll be first. In fact, everything I’ve told you is confidential information about your patient, and you damn well better not go talking to anyone else about it.” Her face was red with anger.

  “Maggie, I’m stunned. I just don’t know what to say.”

  “Then say nothing. We haven’t oven seen the rest of the scans yet.”

  Krueger opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and closed it. “Okay,” he finally replied. “Let’s settle the question of Ann first.”

  Relieved, Maggie smiled. “Thanks. I’ll wait outside.” Rising from her chair, she quickly left the office.

  In the waiting room, she was momentarily shocked to find the same people, wearing the same expressions, sitting in the same chairs. Her entire universe had turned upside down since she last looked around the room, but to the people waiting here, it had been an insignificant bit of time. Sitting down in the same chair as before, Maggie picked up the magazine. Her hands were shaking.