“Vandermeer’s infectious disease workup has just begun,” Dr. Erikson finally snapped. “We’ll just have to see.”
“Thank you for taking the time to talk with me,” Lynn said, and quickly returned to her seat. As she put Carl’s chart down on the desktop, she made eye contact with Michael, who was looking bored.
“Now, that was shooting some real shit,” Michael said, keeping his voice low.
“I’m sorry,” Lynn said with an equally low voice. “I couldn’t get away.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I’m serious. First she held on to the chart like she did with you and grilled me. She wanted to know what year we were. I thought for sure she was going to question our supposed anesthesia rotation. Luckily she didn’t. One thing for sure, she’s a bit weird.”
“Really? Lay it on me!”
“It’s hard to explain. For a moment it seemed to me she was acting pissed we were here, looking at these charts, which made me fear for the worst. But then her attitude changed. At least I think it changed. Actually my mind is not working at full power as tired as I am, so maybe I’m making all this up. But let me ask you: does she look healthy to you?”
“It didn’t occur to me one way or the other,” Michael said. He started to turn to look over at Dr. Erikson, who was only about a dozen feet away, but Lynn restrained him.
“Don’t look!” Lynn ordered in a forced whisper. “Be cool! I’m telling you she’s weird and could be trouble. Trust me! Let’s not give her any more reason to question us. I really thought she was going to demand to know what we are doing here, looking at these charts. Luckily she didn’t. And tell me this: did you notice her abdomen is distended, almost like she is pregnant?”
“Really?” Michael said, raising his eyebrows. He started to turn to look at the doctor again, but for the second time Lynn stopped him.
“I’m telling you, don’t look!” Lynn snapped.
“I can’t imagine she is pregnant,” Michael said. “She’s no spring chicken.”
“I can’t imagine she is, either,” Lynn said. “Of course, with what’s happening in IVF, it’s not out of the question. My guess is that she has some kind of liver or kidney disease.”
“I suppose it is possible,” Michael said. He was growing bored with the whole situation. He was also starved.
“The strangest thing she said was that she wants to hear if you and I come to any conclusions to explain why Carl and Morrison didn’t wake up from their anesthesia.”
“I hope you didn’t say that you think someone fucked up.”
“I didn’t.”
“Thank the Lord.”
“I said we didn’t have any idea.”
“That’s God’s truth. You’re learning, girl.”
“She made me promise that if we did come up with something, we’d let her know. She even gave me her card.” Lynn showed the card to Michael, who merely shrugged. “You don’t find all this a bit odd?” Lynn questioned. “Why would she be interested in what a couple of medical students might dream up? As an attending she could go to anybody in anesthesia, from the department head on down.”
“Okay, it is strange,” Michael admitted. “Are you happy now?”
Lynn closed her eyes for a moment, as if she needed to reboot. When she opened them again she said: “The last question I asked was if Carl might have a gammopathy like Morrison to explain his fever. Her response was to look mad.”
“Now, that is odd. What did she say?”
“She said his infectious-disease workup had just begun, so we’d just have to wait and see. But she said it as if she was irritated I had asked.”
“Okay, you’ve made your point. She’s weird. Now, how about we make tracks for the cafeteria.”
“Let me look at Carl’s chart quickly.” Lynn opened the chart to the progress note section. There was nothing from Erikson, although when she turned to the orders page, there was a request for a serum electrophoresis, on Dr. Erikson’s order. Lynn looked off into the distance, as if thinking.
“Okay, are we finished?” Michael asked. “Come on! Let’s get out of here.”
“Just let me look at Carl’s blood work,” Lynn said, turning back to the lab section. “Okay,” she said after a moment. “His white count is eleven thousand. Some people may not consider that elevated, but I think it is. The key fact is that his lymphocytes are also elevated, at almost five thousand, which argues against an infection.”
“That’s great. Now can we go to breakfast?”
“All right, but let me return this chart.”
“Don’t get in another conversation,” Michael cautioned.
“Not on your life. I’m going to give the chart to Peter.”
Their departure was just in time. As they were leaving the central circular desk, all the nurses had finished their rounds and were filing in. Gwen Murphy, the head nurse, eyed the students but didn’t say anything, although she paused for a second to stare. Very little that happened in the neuro ICU went unnoticed during her shift.
Just before Lynn went through the heavy double doors leading out into the sixth-floor hallway, she stopped and hazarded another glance over at Carl. A nurse was at his side, adjusting something. Carl appeared as peaceful as he had earlier. The only discernible movement was from the flexing and extension of his operated leg.
Lynn shuddered. She knew all too well that his tranquillity was in sharp contrast to the mayhem that had occurred in his brain. The MRI and the CT scan had confirmed her worst fears, and the stark reality of his status gave her a new surge of energy and purpose. At the moment she didn’t care that part of her motivation might have stemmed from guilt of possibly equating his bleak future with academic freedom for her. Her intuition, which had always served her well in the past, was sending alarms that something was amiss in this whole affair. She sensed that the hospital was going to be content to let the issue die a natural death, but she was not going to allow it. She would find out what had happened. She owed as much to Carl and future patients.
“Come on!” Michael urged. “Now I’m in as much need of calories as you, and the dermatology lecture isn’t going to wait for us.”
“I’m coming,” Lynn said.
As they started down the hallway, the hospital PA system crackled to life, and like everyone else in the hospital, they stopped to listen. In the old days hospital PA systems provided a constant background of doctors being paged, but that was no longer the case, with smartphones and computer tablets. The Mason-Dixon Medical Center had a hospital-wide PA system, but it was only for disasters. So when the system came on, everyone in the hospital, even in the operating rooms, stopped to listen.
“All available medical personnel! There has been a serious head-on collision on the interstate near our campus involving a bus and a tractor-trailer. As the closest medical center, we will shortly be receiving the most seriously injured. Anyone who can, please proceed immediately to the ER! Operating room personnel, free up as many operating rooms as possible. Thank you!”
Lynn and Michael exchanged a hurried glance. “What do you think?” Michael asked. “Does that include us medical students?”
“We’re almost doctors,” Lynn shot back. “Let’s go!”
They ran down the hallway, effectively dodging nurses, orderlies, ambulatory patients, and food carts to the elevators, but instead of waiting for one, they ducked into the stairwell. As they thundered down the metal steps, they found themselves in a swelling bevy of stampeding doctors and nurses, with more joining at each floor.