The Golden Goose of Los Angeles Extended Edition
Page 4
surgeon at your hospital years ago and I try to donate as often as possible.”
“That’s fantastic, Sir,” the doctor says in a cold, dismissive manner. “Is your blood Type O Negative?”
“Yes,” Rory admits with a degree of frustration at the doctor’s lack of interest in his personal life, “that’s another reason why I donate; my blood is the universal donor.”
“That’s truly remarkable!” The doctor replies in a warm voice for the first time, becoming more anxious in his tone. “Could you stop by the medical center tonight?”
“I’d like to know what this is regarding,” Rory declares, feeling his natural sense of self take over the conversation. “Why do you need me to come to the medical center tonight?”
“Uh, yes, Sir, we have found an anomaly in your blood and need to have you come down for some lab tests to confirm that we have the right person,” the doctor announces in an almost scripted manner. “I really cannot disclose any information until we know that this is your blood we are discussing; you know- doctor to patient confidentiality.”
“How long is this going to take?” Rory asks, sensing that he has the upper hand for some reason. “I have dinner tonight with my girl.”
“It won’t take long, Sir,” the doctor reassures him, “we will run the blood tests while you are here at the medical center and can have you back home within an hour or two.”
“So this can’t wait until later in the week?” Rory says dryly, looking at his designer wristwatch.
“It’s a matter of life and death,” the doctor replies with a voice of genuine empathy and concern.
“I’m leaving Mount Baldy now,” Rory exclaims, nodding his head inside the truck, feeling that this is the right thing to do, “and I’ll be there in about an hour.”
“Very good, Mr. Chambers,” the doctor confirms briskly, “we value your participation.”
“Sounds good,” Rory exhales in a tired voice, “I’ll see you shortly.”
“Thank you, Sir!” The doctor exclaims, sounding like a man who just won a date with a supermodel.
Rory hangs up his phone and immediately dials his girlfriend Kelly.
“Hello, babe,” Rory begins with a broad smile, “how was your day?”
“Hey, sweets,” Kelly says in a soft, playful tone, “it was good, but it’s going to get a hell of a lot better!”
“Yeah, I’m excited too,” Rory agrees, realizing his sudden disappointment in having to run this unexpected errand. “Hey, I had the hospital call me and they asked me to come down as soon as possible. The doctor said something about a Type O Negative blood donor, and that it’s a matter of life and death.”
“Holy shit, sweets,” Kelly replies with genuine shock in her voice, “it sounds like they need your blood to save someone’s life. Which hospital was this?”
“It’s Ronald Reagan, right by our house; they said it would only take an hour or two.”
“Yeah, babe, go and save someone’s life, I’ll be here when you get done. We’ll still have a good time tonight.”
“Thank you, baby, I’ll take tomorrow off if you want to call in sick, and we’ll go play like teenagers.”
“Hells yeah, in that case go ahead and save two people. Are you sure you aren’t cheating on me with some naughty lady doctor?” She asks with playful suspicion.
“Yes, her name is Yahmir, and I don’t think she shaves her meat and potatoes.”
“Oh my God, babe; that is disgusting!” Kelly giggles deviously. “Go and save a life for hairy balls, but save yourself for me tonight, sweets.”
“Absolutely,” Rory says with a smile, “I won’t let doctor hairy balls use up all of my energy. Haha. I love you, baby; see you soon.”
“Love you too, sweets, come home soon. Bye.”
“Bye, baby.”
Rory starts his one hour commute to Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center in the comfort of his Limited Edition Toyota Tacoma. The white truck has chrome step bars, and bears his X-Face L.A. logo on both doors and the tailgate. He meditates deep in thought during this long drive, listening to a roadhouse mix on his iPod all the way to the hospital.
After navigating the traffic surrounding the massive Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center complex, Rory finds himself moving briskly through the modern lobby. He admires the familiar interior design of the hospital that is more sophisticated than the aged exterior of the buildings. It is equipped with some warm lighting, immaculate floors with gorgeous laminates, and architecture that is brilliant in its simplicity. As a child, he had always loved the hospital ever since surgeons saved his father from a severe stroke. For a long time, his childhood mind believed that Ronald Reagan was a brilliant surgeon who just fixed people; a veritable physician version of Santa Claus.
When he gets through to the right corridor, he is soon approaching the pathology clinic, feeling relieved to finally get some answers. Rory steps toward the reception desk, looking down with a smile at the intelligent and well dressed woman behind the protective glass. She is wearing expensive, sliver horn rimmed glasses that are balanced on the end of her nose. As the woman looks up at him, she returns his smile gracefully, showing a few wrinkles on her well kept face, displaying a radiant look for a woman in her fifties.
“May I help you?” The woman asks in a tone that commands respect and showcases her level of education.
“Yes, I’m here to meet with Doctor Yahmir;” Rory announces with a blank look, “he needs to run some tests.”
“Right, you’re Mr. Chambers,” the woman says with a wider smile, “please walk right in, I’ll let Doctor Yahmir know that you’re here.”
“Thanks,” Rory replies, raising his eyebrows a bit, having never gotten into the medical center this fast before even when donating blood.
“Mr. Chambers,” the doctor greets him with excitement as he opens the door, “so happy you could make it tonight. As promised, we’ll keep this short so that you can get home in time; I have a phlebotomist on his way.”
“Thanks, Doctor,” Rory says with relief shaking Doctor Yahmir’s hand with a firm grip. As he shakes the doctor’s hand, he thinks to himself that this guy probably really doesn’t shave his balls, and suddenly finds himself wanting to get home to Kelly. “Can you let me know what’s going on now?”
“I’m afraid I need to confirm your correct blood match before we continue; is that okay?” The doctor asks with a serious stare placing his hands on his hips under his long, white lab coat, which shows off his small belly through a black dress shirt.
“Yes, that’s fine,” Rory agrees, “but I’d like to know why I’m here- in general?”
“Certainly,” the doctor replies with an austere grin, showing off his shiny, balding scalp, rich Egyptian features, and eyebrows as thick as his glasses. “I just need to ask you some questions first and get some disclosure forms out of the way.”
“Okay.” Rory accepts, feeling glad that the doctor is keeping his promise to move things along.
The door swings open and a tall, slender white man steps into the room carrying a tray full of needles, rubber gloves, glass tubes and other instruments of phlebotomy. He is wearing small, thin
glasses that are pressed tightly against his face and he pulls up a chair next to Rory in Doctor Yahmir’s office, setting his tray down on the desk as he sits. The office is cramped, and Rory feels a bit suffocated in such close quarters by these two men who are both wearing lab coats and glasses. Doctor Yahmir’s office is unremarkable save for a few shelves with medical journals and a black, steel filing cabinet in the corner behind his desk.
“This is Doctor Anderton,” Doctor Yahmir says in a formal introduction, gesturing toward the tall doctor with an outstretched palm.
“I thought you said that we had a phlebotomist drawing the blood?” Rory asks with suspicious eyes.
“Not to worry, Mr. Chambers,” Doctor Yahmir reassures him, “Doctor Anderton is a member of our Pathology Research Clinic; I’m sure he’ll do a great job drawing your blood.”
“Mr. Chambers,” Doctor Anderton says with a quick smile, shaking Rory’s hand halfheartedly before getting back to business. “I just need to ask you a few questions before we get started.” The doctor speaks with almost no emotion, which is not at all complimented by his pale face and feminine lips. “Have you had any alcohol today?”
“No.” Rory replies, watching Doctor Yahmir as he writes on a clipboard while Doctor Anderton asks him standard questions.
“Have you used any illegal drugs, had a transfusion, or been diagnosed with any new medical condition in the past year?”
“No,” Rory answers briskly, clearing his throat and feeling suddenly uncomfortable.
“Have you had any allergic reactions; weight loss or weight gain of more than twenty pounds in the last six months?”
“No.”
“Have you come into contact with any foreign substances, foods, or liquids in the past six months?”
“No.”
“Have you experienced any abdominal discomfort, blurred vision,