Fallow Park Today

by Joseph Glenn

  “I think Dr. Haze,” he paused, “Haze, is it?” He looked up at the doctor and appeared to read the badge on her coat. “Yes, Dr. Haze. Doctor Haze is trying to say that there’s been no request to collect that kind of data. The incidents when such tragic circumstances come about are quite rare—”

  “Rare is a relative term,” Dr. Haze interrupted. “With a population of forty-nine thousand, there are a predictable number of health care issues, a certain percentage of patients in need of life-saving procedures. And that number is fairly consistent—just about exactly where we’d expect it.”

  “Yes, that’s just so,” he agreed with gravity, but conveying the idea that Dr. Haze’s statement was consistent with his assessment. He brightened suddenly and reached out across the bed to take the doctor’s closest hand. This time he was fast enough to snatch it before the doctor pulled it away. “I think you’ll agree with me Doctor…” He paused again. Fantastically, he had to read her nametag again. “Doctor Haze, I’m sure you’ll agree with me that in the medical profession there’s a growing tendency to put a lot of focus on the sick and the dying. As I’m sure you’re aware, there’s a great emphasis these days on the negative aspects of healthcare. Everything is a ‘problem’ and we must find a ‘cure’ for whatever the world has identified as this week’s new disease. It’s a pity, because this kind of negative thinking draws attention away from the bigger picture.”

  “Which is?” the doctor asked as she extricated her hand from the park director’s grasp.

  “Our successes, of course!” he enthusiastically responded.

  Makepeace’s words were riotously funny, and Meredith had to continuously look away to keep from laughing out loud, but she refused to blow the take or in any way interfere with the surreal proceedings. The sheer lunacy of his statements emerged with every word and spoke louder than any objection Meredith could make. The silence in the room—even Austin appeared dumbfounded—only seemed to fuel Makepeace on to further ridiculous observations, as if he was misreading the speechless witnesses as an enraptured audience, hanging on every brilliant word.

  “An examination of Fallow Park’s healthcare services begins and ends with our beloved infirmary,” Makepeace said. “How many lives did we save last year?” he asked the doctor, though he looked at one of the cameras as he posed the question.

  “I don’t have that statistic,” Dr. Haze told him.

  “Well, last month then? Or last week?”

  “I don’t know. That’s a question better put to the chief of staff.”

  “Now that’s just the trouble with you doctors. These are statistics that ought to be at every doctor’s fingertips. When I think of all the good we’re doing here, it fills me with pride. Pride and a great sense of awe at the importance of what we’re accomplishing here. I don’t think anything more needs to be said. As I take my leave,” he turned away from the camera to address Meredith, presumably because she was the ostensible moderator as long as the cameras were rolling, “you’ll have to forgive me; I have a meeting this afternoon. But as I take my leave this is what I want as my parting statement: let’s take a moment to appreciate doctors like Ms. Haze here, and the nurses and technical people too, and be grateful that we live in a country where the needy have access to their services.”

  After Makepeace’s abrupt departure, complete with backslapping and two-handed handshakes, Meredith wrapped up her talk with Jean and Janet. She thanked them effusively for their participation. Janet took her hand and held it for several moments. “I’m glad you’re exposing this,” she whispered, even though the microphones had been removed. “The world needs to know about this.” Meredith caught a glimpse of Austin Green, directing the crew for the next set-up, a visit with two of the patients whose prognoses were considerably less grim. When he caught her eye, he slowly shook his head. No, he was saying, none of Jean’s segment would appear in the final show.

  “I wish I could do more,” was all her conscience would let her say.

  Meredith followed the crew down the hall. She was mechanically following the others, relying on a form of autopilot to conduct her actions. She was mystified that she was able to place one foot in front of the other. Jean’s goodbye and Austin’s resignation to the situation, and Makepeace’s irreverence in the face of the woman’s plight, fought for her attention. This was Tyler’s fate. Even though she had steeled herself for the worst, the encounter with the terminal woman had been harder than she expected. It could just as easily have been him in that hospital bed, with a concerned doctor on one side of it offering concern but no meaningful care, and a doltish bureaucrat on the other, acting out a game of obfuscation with, he believes, aplomb, simply because no one is allowed to contradict him.

  In the next room, two men occupied the single beds in a standard appearing hospital room. The curtain between the beds was pulled back and fastened to the wall. The room was pristine, although the men’s luggage was apparent. Meredith surmised that the room had been prepared for the camera, staged, more accurately, as had the patients. More than that, it appeared that the men were recent arrivals. She soon learned they had, in fact, both been moved from their previous rooms to this one in preparation for this segment of the show. They were instructed to behave as if this had always been their permanent room. It was their understanding that they would be returned to their original beds sometime after the “movie people” went back to Hollywood. All this they conveyed to Meredith and Bill before the interview began. Not exactly pure journalism, Meredith told them, but no one ever said that was what this was. As with the previous patient, Meredith was prepared to play along with the premise. As with all the interviews following the debacle with Makepeace on Monday, she was not permitted to read the script in advance. Consequently, she was unable to plan any specific objections until the interview began. This, no doubt, was a deliberate choice on Austin’s part, or the executives with whom he was in constant contact. But, as had been the case in her interview with Jean and her partner, Meredith was prepared to be the cooperative team member. In this capacity she could let the scene unfold and, as necessary, break out of character and manipulate the scene with pointed questions and shocked responses. Even if she were unable to call the shots with the project, she could temper each segment with her own sensibilities. She could only imagine how much of a nightmare they would have in Los Angeles assembling a piece that looked anything like what they had originally envisioned. And this would be their best case scenario. In a more likely outcome, if Bill’s assurances were to be believed, the whole project would be scrapped.

  Meredith was called upon for this piece to be upbeat; impressed with the hospital amenities and staff—two nurses fussed about the men and took lengthy turns reading their charts; delighted with their anticipated recoveries. The men were nice enough chaps, she thought, and surprisingly photogenic for hospital patients. With little prompting they spoke eloquently of the staff, the doctors, their rapid recoveries, and even praised the food. Though this last bit sounded over rehearsed and the dialogue was stilted.

  “I’ve been eating like a king,” one of them boasted. “I’ve probably gained five pounds in the week I’ve been here—and I was already overweight! I’m here for a minor heart attack; I didn’t have appetite issues in the first place. Fortunately, exercise has been prescribed; I can count on losing the extra pounds pretty quickly! Look at this diet they’ve put me on.” As he said this, his lunch was presented on a tray in front of him. “Anyone could comply with it. I feel very lucky to be alive.”

  What, Meredith wondered, were they giving him to prompt such an endorsement? Only half-jokingly she speculated that the Jell-O was spiked with something. And how, she dared not ask aloud, could she lay her hands on some of it?

  “I’m glad you both can look forward to such optimistic futures,” she said, following the teleprompter. “It does seem like you’ll be with us for many years to come.” She had lured Austin into a false sense of security and he now turned his atten
tion to one of the assistant directors. They communicated with gestures and hand-written notes as the pre-written, yet supposedly off-the-cuff interview proceeded. In the same gentle, soothing voice she had been using she turned to Dr. Haze. “But what about the patients who don’t make it?” she asked. “Say, for instance, a patient were to choke to death on a ham sandwich, very much like the one in this gentleman’s hand there. What would happen then?”

  The man set down his sandwich at this and looked to Dr. Haze.

  “After all attempts at resuscitation had failed?” the doctor asked uncertainly, lost for words; she had been following the teleprompter during Meredith’s talk with the patient.

  “Yes, yes,” Meredith said anxiously. “After all that: morgue, inquest, alerting next of kin, wake, memorial service, etcetera; all that stuff’s been taken care of. Then what happens?”

  Dr. Haze cast a darting, cautious glance at the director, and seemed to understand Meredith was deliberately taking the interview in a different direction at her own discretion. She responded in a similarly pleasant, we-could-just-as-easily-be-discussing-a-botanical-garden, tone: “Well, of course, it’s well known that the bodies of the deceased are donated to medical schools.”

  “Yes, we’ve all heard about that, and I think that’s a wonderful way for people to, um—how shall I put it?—give back to society. I think many proud Americans, like myself, are touched by the generosity of the residents, the late residents, who’ve chosen to make such a contribution.”

  “To be clear,” Dr. Haze interrupted in the same lady-at-high-tea manner, “no one volunteers for this. All residents’ remains are disposed of in this way.”

  “Isn’t that something?” Meredith asked casually, despite her inclination to shout the observation and follow it with many exclamation marks. “But what about those who wish to be buried, uh, intact?”

  “That’s not an option,” the doctor answered. “In the early days, the residents signed an agreement before entering the park. Language buried in the fine print of the agreements, on the third or fourth page, addressed the issue of final expenses and the resident’s remains. The government assumed all costs and disposed of the body. After internment in the parks became mandatory, it was no longer a matter of contract. The government’s assumption of the remains was codified when several other laws related to the parks were passed.”

  “I guess I hadn’t appreciated the full import of the cadaver policy. So no one is ever buried in a family plot somewhere? No one’s ashes reside in an urn on a loved one’s mantle? No one’s ashes are scattered at sea?”

  “No, never.”

  “Are the bodies donated intact?” Meredith asked as if the question were an afterthought. She waited for Dr. Haze’s answer with wide-eyed innocence.

  “No, all usable organs and tissues are transplanted.”

  Now Meredith, a subtle actor when she wanted to be, allowed an edge of concern to enter her voice. “Transplanted where, and to whom?”

  “Wherever the need is greatest.”

  Meredith thought about this before asking, “You’re talking about hearts, eyes, lungs, kidneys, liver, etcetera?”

  “Anything viable.”

  “And they’re sent away—they’re never retained here, despite the possible need—because, presumably that gets back to the earlier problem: even with a usable organ, you still don’t have a surgeon on call?”

  “Right.”

  “So you can’t bring in the necessary organs, but you can, and routinely do, ship them out? You could almost say the residents’ organs are harvested?”

  “I can’t think of a better word.”

  “Not a bad system, for those who benefit from it. The parks have an enormous population that lives healthy lives. Indeed, a healthy lifestyle is more or less imposed on the residents. I mean no cigarettes, no drugs, no booze. I’ve dined in the formal dining hall and the big cafeteria. I wouldn’t say they’ve been the best meals of my life—frankly, the airport meal before my flight out here was better—but it’s clearly possible to maintain a healthy diet. No one’s going to choke on Chateaubriand or break their neck slipping on Bananas Foster, but the meals are palatable enough. It almost seems like, for all the healthy choices imposed upon the residents, they’re healthy lifestyles are designed to benefit strangers the country over. It might surprise some people to learn that this nifty little system is in place.” The biting edge, the irony of Meredith’s observation was apparent in her final words; Austin looked up and gave his attention to what his crew was filming. Alex, the intern, was at his side, whispering with emphatic gestures.

  “What about religious concerns?” Meredith asked, turning again to the doctor.

  “Religion in the context of healthcare?” Dr. Haze asked for clarification.

  “Yes, I mean the donors. Don’t some people have religious convictions that preclude donating their organs?”

  “That’s true, but I’m not aware that the matter has ever been challenged. It’s next to impossible for someone in the park to bring any kind of a law suit. Those cases are routinely tossed out of court. They’re considered such losers that residents are counseled not to bother. I’m not aware of a single case against the Government with respect to the parks that was decided favorably for the claimant. I’m sure it’s nearly impossible to find an attorney who’ll take such a case. And, of course, it would be virtually impossible for someone in the parks to represent himself or herself: the very nature of his or her confinement precludes actively participating in such a suit.”

  “But the resident’s friends or family?”

  “Those who might bring such a claim on their behalf probably have difficulty establishing standing, particularly as they are easily characterized as being too distantly connected to a park resident.”

  At this point Austin yelled cut. Meredith was quite self-satisfied. She could scarcely believe she had been able to get this far before he pulled the plug.

  “Absolutely not, Merry,” he firmly stated. “You know you have to stick to the script. There is simply no point in pursuing this line of questioning. You’re just making more work for us at the editing stage.”

  “Austin,” she said with exasperation. “I think you’re missing a golden opportunity here. If you’re going to tell the Fallow Park story, then tell it. What’s the point of taking the busy doctor away from her work if all she’s going to do is quote the brochures and press kits? Makepeace has called it a day, let’s take full advantage of that. We’re in the hospital,” she pointed out, “as far as we know, no television cameras have been here before—and it may be another fifteen years—if ever—before the chance will come again to document its practices and procedures.” Austin was not easily swayed or manipulated, but she did seem to have his attention. Encouraged by this, she continued hammering on this point. “More importantly, here’s a chance to show the hard-working taxpayers that they’re getting something out of the parks. People can feel good about themselves. And rather than cutting this segment, you can edit it to emphasize the positives. I’ve given you a lot to work with. Too many people see the parks as big, empty holes: expensive and producing no return on the taxpayers’ investments. And everyone knows the parks are here to stay. If you pursue this line of questioning, you can give the parks the positive spin you want. Isn’t that why we’re here?”

  “I’ll let you pursue it, but watch yourself,” he said judiciously.

  “Let’s turn to finances,” Meredith said, picking up the strain from the teleprompter. “It’s worth pointing out that the U.S. taxpayer is not footing the whole bill for the services provided in the infirmary, nor for any of the other healthcare available in the parks. That’s a long-standing misconception that needs to be dispelled. There’s quite a bit of private funding involved, isn’t there?”

  “Yes,” the doctor said, as she withdrew a few typed pages from a manila folder. “I’m not an accountant, but I’ve been given some statistics I can share.” She skimmed the top she
et before stating, “Actually, more than fifty percent of the operational costs are from private sources, including corporations.” She seemed surprised by the fact.

  “Yes,” Meredith said with disinterest, turning away from the teleprompter. “It’s true, though, that most of these corporations are foreign-based, isn’t it? I mean the big car companies or oil companies aren’t on the list.”

  Dr. Haze flipped through her paperwork. “Actually, it doesn’t seem that they’ve provided me with a list of the donors.”

  Meredith continued in the same vein, registering no surprise that the doctor’s paperwork lacked evidence to substantiate the statement. “A good deal of the money comes from the residents themselves, doesn’t it?”

  “No,” the doctor answered in a cautious manner. Meredith was unperturbed by the doctor’s contradiction; she had expected her to be confused by the bold accusation. “The residents have no money,” the Dr. Haze explained, giving no indication that she understood what Meredith was driving at.

  “No one has money when they come to the parks,” Meredith agreed flatly, her tone indicating she was aware that they were reiterating expository information. “But what about that rare resident who has failed to give away or otherwise deplete his or her assets before coming to the park? It’s my understanding that no one here actually owns anything. All of the money, the privately held assets, and in some cases we’re talking about several million dollars, is claimed by the government. That money must offset the exorbitant costs of a medical facility like this?”

  “Not directly,” Dr. Haze answered. “That gets into an area where I’m not an expert, but I know that much of our funding comes directly from the general pool of money earmarked for the parks. To what extent that money you’re talking about, the residents’ estates, is a portion of the available resources I really can’t say.”

  “Still, it’s something, isn’t it?” Meredith pointedly asked. “There is a gross misconception of the residents as freeloaders. The truth is, their lifesavings, including family money that might have been passed down for generations, is taken and used to essentially offset some of the costs of running the parks.”