“I’m suddenly thinking it is a possibility,” Lynn said.
“But it doesn’t explain the paraprotein problem.”
“I know. But maybe they want their immune systems stimulated for some reason. And Carl’s and Morrison’s immune systems are acting up, producing the paraprotein and their fevers. Their immune systems are acting as if they are being stimulated.”
“That’s all very hypertheoretical.”
“I know, but I’m convinced that something weird is going on. Maybe Sidereal Pharmaceuticals built Shapiro to use the patients for illicit clinical drug testing. It’s certainly a captive audience who wouldn’t complain. I mean, you have to admit, it makes diabolical sense. And if that’s what’s happening, it’s another reason I sure as hell don’t want Carl transferred there. Certainly not to be experimented on. No way!”
“God! That’s a creepy idea,” Michael said. The thought and implications raised a few hairs on his neck. “Do you really think that might be going on?”
Lynn shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s an idea,” she said. “It would save time and money in drug development. Drozitumab is definitely a biologic, meaning made from living cells, and biologics are the newest and biggest thing in the pharmaceutical industry. And there is a race to perfect them and test them. And, in point of fact, biologics are Sidereal’s main product line!”
“No shit?” Michael said.
“Here, read this!” Lynn said as she picked an article off the bureau and handed it to Michael. It was titled “Biopharmaceutical.”
Michael took the article and began to speed-read it.
While Michael read, Lynn asked: “Do you remember exactly how monoclonal antibodies or biologics that drug companies sell are made?”
“Yeah! They’re made from mouse hybridomas. I just read it in the previous article. Also we had a lecture about it in second year. Why do you ask?”
“Because it’s the biggest reason that a lot of testing is needed,” Lynn said. “Since biologics are made from mouse cells, the drug companies have to humanize them to make them less allergenic for humans. That requires a lot of testing, particularly testing in humans. People in a vegetative state would be perfect subjects, especially if their immune systems were hyped up.”
“Wow!” Michael said, finishing the latest article. “I had no idea biologics are already a fifty-billion-dollar-a-year industry and climbing. I really had no idea.”
“It’s going to become really huge,” Lynn said. “It will top a hundred billion before long.”
“You really think so?”
“I do, and for two reasons. First, because biologics have a lot of promise to provide cures, as these articles say. Second, because drug companies here in the United States get to charge whatever the hell they please. It’s not like in the rest of the industrialized world, or should I say ‘civilized’ world.”
Michael nodded. “Which they are already doing with traditional drugs.” He picked up another article specifically about hybridomas.
“Exactly! And unfortunately it is not going to change with biologics, not with the money they throw around with their lobbyists.”
“You’re right about that,” Michael agreed. “By controlling Congress, drug companies in general are enjoying legalized robbery of the American public.”
“If Sidereal gets a jump in the biologics field by solving the allergy problem, they could dominate it and make an absolute fortune.”
Michael finished the fourth article and tossed it aside. “Okay, I suppose now I have an idea where you’re going with all this. Maybe a quick, undercover visit to the Shapiro might be just what the doctor ordered to see if they are using the patients as guinea pigs for biologics, not that I’m advocating it, mind you. I still think it is a crazy, risky idea. In the meantime, we got a more pressing problem. What to do about anesthesia machine thirty-seven? The Anesthesia Department should know about it if they don’t already. Actually, the more I think about it, the more I’m sure they already know. It’s too obvious to miss.”
“I agree,” Lynn said. “They have to know. Nor can there be anything wrong with the machine.” Lynn pointed back at the anesthesia records on her desk. “Look how the patients’ vital signs stayed completely normal in all three cases after the frame offset right up until the oxygen level fell! Same with all the other variables the machine was monitoring. Obviously the patients’ depth of anesthesia didn’t change. And remember: Wykoff specifically said she checked the anesthesia machine before Carl’s case and after.”
For a few minutes the two friends looked at the records and didn’t speak. Each tried to decide what it all meant.
“If we go to Rhodes with any of this he’s going to see red all over again,” Lynn said. “And he’ll want to know how we discovered it. What could we say without implicating ourselves in having violated HIPAA? After his reaction to our just talking with Dr. Wykoff, I think he’d go apeshit if he knew we had these anesthesia records. We can’t go to him until we know a lot more.”
“I hear you,” Michael said.
“Listen,” Lynn said. “How about texting your buddy Vladimir to see if you can get him to come over this evening. I want to move forward.”
“You’re serious about all this?”
“Very serious,” Lynn said. “Thinking about Carl possibly going in there without knowing what might happen to him is driving me crazy. I need a Shapiro outfit and his thumbprint.”
“I hope I don’t regret this,” Michael said as he got out his phone. Quickly he texted an invite for Vladimir to come over to his room for an impromptu Jay-Z party and a beer. With a flourish, he sent the message.
“Now, let’s see his user name and password,” Lynn said, getting out her own phone and preparing to add Vladimir to her contacts. Michael saluted before dutifully handing his phone over to Lynn with the information displayed. While she was busy adding the data into her phone, Michael’s phone chimed. A text came back from Vladimir accepting the invite and saying he would be bringing the Russian souvenir he had promised for Michael.
“Satisfied?” Michael asked.
“No,” Lynn said. “Text him back about the Shapiro scrubs.”
“Shit, girl!” Michael complained but did as she said. As an explanation for the request he used Lynn’s earlier suggestion, saying he and his girlfriend were going to a costume party. He pushed the SEND button, and then held the phone so Lynn could see it.
A minute stretched into another. Then a second text popped onto Michael’s screen: I stop and get outfits. Maybe I a little late. No problem.
“Seems that my Russian buddy is going to come through,” Michael said. “Now let’s go get some dinner.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Lynn said. “But I need to take a quick shower.” Without waiting for a response she went into her bathroom and closed the door.
“While we are over there, let’s go up to the OR and see if we can find number thirty-seven,” Michael shouted through the door.
“Finding it might not be so easy. With twenty-four ORs, there must be fifty or more machines.”
“Probably more, but no matter. We know number thirty-seven was used on Monday in OR Twelve. It could be still in there. Usually this time of day the OR is quiet. If it is not in twelve, we could check the storage room they use to keep the extra machines.”
“If we do find it, what would we do with it?”
“That’s a good question.” Michael shrugged. “I guess I’d like to find out if it has been used since Carl’s case. If so, and there hasn’t been any problem, I’ll sleep better.”
“I hear you,” Lynn yelled. “I’ll go with you up to the OR if you come with me to the neuro ICU and IT.”