And so we wonder here at the Express what the Board of Trustees of Monroe Community Hospital will do. Will they wait until a single staff member's unsavory notoriety undermines the institution's credibility as a health care facility, thereby jeopardizing its certificate of need applications? Or will they take the reins of leadership in their teeth and confront Dr. Bulmer on this matter?
Granted, Dr. Bulmer is not solely to blame for the brouhaha that surrounds him, but the fact remains that he has done nothing to stem the rising tide of speculation and hysteria. Under normal circumstances we would respect his right to decline comment on the wild stories about him. But when that silence acts only to feed the fire, a fire which threatens the expansion of a facility so vital to the health care of our community, then we must demand that he speak out and refute these sensational tales. And if he will not, then we see it as the duty of the Board of Trustees to reconsider his position on the staff of Monroe Community Hospital.
"They've got to be kidding!" Alan said, a knot of disquiet tightening in his stomach. "They're identifying me with the hospital. That's ridiculous! I could see it if I was a board member but I'm—"
"You're a doctor on the staff!" Ginny said. "If you look like a kook, then they look like kooks for keeping you on. Simple as that."
"Why can't they just leave it alone?" Alan said, more to himself than to Ginny.
"Why can't you? That's the question! Why can't you give an interview or something and say it's all a crock?"
"I can't do that." He didn't tell her that People Magazine had called three times last week for just that purpose and he had turned them down flat. Or had it been this week? Time seemed so jumbled lately.
"In God's name, why not?"
"Because I told you—it's not a crock!"
"I don't want to hear that, Alan. I don't want to hear that kind of talk from you."
Alan knew she had shut her mind to the possibility that it might be true.
"All right, then: Let me ask you a hypothetical question."
"I'm not interested in hypo—"
"Just hear me out. Let's just say for the sake of argument that I can heal people."
"I don't want to hear this, Alan!"
"Ginny—!"
"You need help, Alan!"
"Just play along with me. What should I do? Deny it?"
"Of course."
"Even if it's true?"
"Sure."
"And continue using it in secret?"
"No!" She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You couldn't hide something like that! You'd just have to forget about any weird power and go back to regular medicine. Don't you see how you're becoming some kind of leper around here?"
"No."
"Of course you don't! You're walking around like you're on drugs lately. But I do! So put a stop to this once and for all. Tell everybody it's all bull. Please!"
Was she right? He had hoped it would all die down, but it hadn't. He realized now that as long as he used the Dat-tay-vao and cured more and more of the incurables, it would never die down. It would only get worse.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe I should put a stop to this once and for all."
Ginny smiled. The first genuine smile he had seen on her face in weeks. "Great! When?"
"Soon. Real soon."
"Dr. Buhner!"
He heard Connie hurrying down the hall. She burst into his office and shoved a magazine under his nose.
"Look!"
It was the waiting-room copy of the latest issue of People. Connie had it opened to an article titled "The Miracles in Monroe." There were photos and case histories of a number of his patients. At the end of the article was a grainy, long-range shot of him exiting the private door to his office building.
The caption read: "The secretive Dr. Bulmer who has refused all comment."
"Wonderful!" he said, feeling sick. This capped it. Things couldn't possibly get any worse.
Connie brought him the registered letter two days later.
The return address was for Monroe Community Hospital. The letter said that he was "invited" before the Board of Trustees "to explain and clarify the rumors and sensational stories" concerning him that were coming to have "a deleterious effect on the hospital's reputation." They expected him on Friday—three days from now.
Here it comes, he thought. He had realized all along in some corner of his mind that sooner or later he was going to run afoul of the medical establishment. Not so much the individual practitioners themselves, but the administrative types who lived off disease and trauma without ever treating or coming near a patient.
"Start canceling all my appointments for the rest of the week. And see if Mr. DeMarco is in his office next door. Tell him I have to speak to him right away."
A moment later she called him back. "Mr. DeMarco is in court and will not be back until this afternoon. He'll call you then. And there's a Mrs. Toad on the phone. She said she must speak to you immediately."
___22.___
Sylvia
"I think you've got trouble."
"So what else is new?"
Alan smiled at her from across the table. It was a weak smile, but it seemed genuine. He looked more worn and haggard than the last time she had seen him, when they had sat at this same table after meeting in the cemetery. She had been shocked that the board would even think of calling Alan on the carpet, and had rushed to lend him whatever support she could.
"I just got word about this hearing of yours before the Board of Trustees."
"Bad news travels fast."
"Not as fast as you might think. I'm a big contributor to the building fund over there and I hear things sooner than most. Sol made some calls and…" She didn't want to say this, but he had to be told. He had to be ready.
"And?"
"It doesn't look good."
He shrugged.
"Don't take this lightly, Alan. The four board members I spoke to are really upset with that editorial in the Express and are taking its implications very seriously. They're beginning to see you as a real threat to the hospital's expansion bid."
"Who'd you speak to?"
"My father-in-law, naturally. He sells the hospital all its insurance—an expanded hospital means expanded premiums for him. Two others made me promise not to mention their names to anyone, but I can tell you that one runs the bank where I keep my accounts and the other brokers some real estate for me now and then."
She waited for the light of recognition in Alan's eyes and a conspiratorial smile that would reflect her own. Neither came.
"I'm sorry…"he said with a baffled shake of his head. "I don't…"
How could he forget the board members? Was it possible to be on the staff of the hospital all these years and not know the names on the Board of Trustees?
"Never mind," she said quickly to cover his obvious embarrassment. "Their names aren't important. It's what they think that counts, and they think you're a liability."
"You're making my day," he said with a wry twist of his mouth. "Who was the fourth?"
"My uncle, naturally—your esteemed ex-partner."
"I'm sure he'll give a stirring speech in my defense."
"Right—when water flows uphill. So you can see why I'm worried. That's four out of ten. I don't know the others but I doubt they feel any different."
Alan leaned back and mused in silence. She watched his troubled face, sharing his anguish.
"You don't deserve this," she said. "You haven't hurt anybody. You've—"