“Yes?” The physician David had been hoping to find was suddenly before him. “What do you mean, Mr. Morrell? Save Matt? Second chance?”
“Thank God, you’re still here.”
“One of my patients had a complication. Otherwise I’d have been home for dinner now. What’s wrong? You’re out of breath.”
“Three questions.”
The physician looked tired. But because he’d diagnosed Matthew and seen him more than any other doctor, he had a special interest, indeed a special relationship with Matthew. This physician, more than any other David had encountered, had sacrificed his medical objectivity, had allowed his compassion to surface and to threaten his peace of mind.
“Three questions.” The physician leaned next to David against the wall. “Okay, why not?”
“Suppose you knew that Matt, tomorrow afternoon, at four-thirty-six-”
“What are you saying? How can you be so specific?”
“Let me finish. Suppose you knew that precisely at that time Matt would contract septic shock?”
“That’s the first question? I hate to hear the next one.”
“And the septic shock would be caused by streptococcus mitis and staphylococcus epidermidis?”
“Where did you learn those terms?” The physician studied David’s anxious gaze and sighed. “Okay, strep in his body and staph on his skin. Normal bacteria we always have in and on our bodies, and our bodies normally keep them in check.”
“Except Matt’s got a zero white-blood count, so he can’t combat them.”
“You’ve asked your second question. What’s the third?”
“How would you stop the septic shock from happening?”
The physician stared at David. “You’re serious?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“The obvious answer is antibiotics.”
“Then do it. Go upstairs and give Matt antibiotics.”
“This is all hypothetical.”
“Please!”
“Even if it wasn’t hypothetical, the Bone Marrow Ward isn’t my department. I don’t have authority there.”
“Then go up and ask someone who does have the authority to do it.”
“You really are serious?”
David trembled.
“Have you got some reason to be worried? Has Matt got a fever?”
“Not the last time I heard.” The pressure behind David’s ears increased. “But he will have. At three o’clock tomorrow afternoon. And they’ll give him antibiotics then. But it won’t be soon enough. Ninety minutes later he’ll go into shock.”
The physician pushed himself from the wall. “I don’t understand why you’re so sure he’ll go into shock. The way you look, this entire conversation, I’m quite concerned about you.”
Sarie couldn’t stop herself. “Dad, tell him you just got out of the Emergency Ward.”
“What?”
“My Dad had a panic attack. He’s supposed to go home, stay in bed, take Valium, and…”
“Sarie, keep out of this.”
“Is your daughter telling the truth?”
David nodded.
“Then go home and do what you’ve been told.”
“I’m begging you to humor me. Why can’t Matt have the antibiotics now?”
“Because we don’t give antibiotics unless a patient has symptoms. At the very least, a fever.”
“But suppose you knew Matt would get a fever, and after he got the antibiotics, they wouldn’t have time to work before the shock set in and killed him?”
“We don’t know anything of the sort. You’re upset-that’s obvious. So I’m trying to set your mind at ease, but-”
“What’s wrong with giving the antibiotics ahead of time, just in case?”
“What’s wrong with that?” the physician asked, an edge of impatience in his voice. “Because antibiotics are toxic to the body and could make your son sicker than he already is. That’s one. And two, if antibiotics are given before an infection starts, the bacteria get used to them, so if an infection does start, the antibiotics are less effective. Now, please, Mr. Morrell, it’s late. I’ve tried to be cooperative, but I’ve been here since six o’clock this morning.”
“My son’s going to die! Why won’t anybody listen to me?”
The nurses in the ward stared in David’s direction. Sarie looked distraught.
The physician cleared his throat. His tone became more authoritative. At the same time, it was strained with a greater effort toward tolerance. “For what this is worth, if it helps any, I’ve been monitoring your son’s progress in the Bone Marrow Ward. Everything’s proceeding on schedule. And if an infection does develop, the antibiotics have already been ordered from the hospital’s pharmacy. They’re in his room, ready to be administered. Of course, we can never be sure what infection might develop, but the types of broad-spectrum antibiotics they’ve got ready for Matt are especially effective against strep and staph. In that respect at least, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
David struggled to keep from sinking. Breathing deeply between bursts of words, he forced himself to say, “Unless the strep and staph have already started multiplying, and by the time his fever starts, his infection will already be out of control.” He straightened, trying to prove he was functional, ignoring the pounding in his chest. “If Matthew did die from septic shock, by hindsight would you think the only way to prevent his death would have been to give the antibiotics ahead of time-before his fever started?”
“It’s all hypothetical!”
“But what I just described to you… giving the antibiotics ahead of time… that’s the only other way he could have been saved?”
“Could have? We can’t predict the future. We deal with facts.”
David had learned what he wanted. “My daughter’s right. I ought to be at home. To take my pills and go to bed.”
Sarie relaxed.
“I apologize for getting upset,” David said, suddenly anxious to leave.
“No need. What pills were prescribed?” the physician asked.
“Valium.”
“In a few days, you’ll feel better, more at ease.”
“I certainly hope so. In fact, I’m convinced of it.”
“Come on, Dad.” Sarie tugged his arm.
“I confess I feel worn out,” David said.
“Well, after six months of what your son and you and your family have been through, of course you feel worn out,” the physician said.
“But Matthew more than all of us. Come on, Sarie. I guess I’ve been a pain in the ass. It’s just that I feel so helpless.”
“Cancer’s a roller coaster,” the doctor said. “Up and down, then up and down. Exhausting. Nerve-wracking. At the moment, your son’s doing fine. Now it’s your job to take care of yourself.”
“I intend to. Thanks again.”
David wavered, escorted by Sarie.
“Wait a minute,” the doctor said. “I’m finished for the evening. I’ll walk down to the parking ramp with you.”
No! David thought. Don’t come down with us! If you do, I’ll have to-! He glanced at the blurred hands of his watch. Almost 9:00 P.M. Time. He was-Matt was-running out of time.
7
In the parking ramp, the doctor walked with Sarie and David toward the Fiesta. The doctor waited till they got inside before he moved toward his own car, almost as if he’d been making sure that David would indeed go home.
David glanced back toward the hospital. No, I have to get up to the Bone Marrow Ward! As Sarie drove from the ramp, he felt trapped, but he knew he’d never be able to convince her to stop and let him out of the car.
The sun was setting; shadows thickened.
Sarie parked in the gravel driveway of David’s house. She helped him inside, took him upstairs, made him lie in bed, then brought him a glass of water and one of the Valium. David put the pill in his mouth and raised the glass of water to his lips.
“I feel a little hungry,” David said.
“What would you like?” Sarie responded eagerly.