"Sorry," Molly said. "You can't come in here on your own. You have to check in at the receiving desk."
Kim tried to push by, but Molly held her ground.
"Excuse me," Kim said. "I'm Dr. Reggis. I'm on the staff here, and I'm bringing my daughter in to be seen."
Molly gave a short laugh. "I don't care if you're Pope John whatever," she snorted. "Everyone, and I mean everyone, checks in at the front desk unless they're carried in here by the EMT's."
Kim was so shocked he was rendered momentarily speechless. He could not believe that not only wasn't he being deferred to, he was being openly challenged. Kim stared disbelievingly into the woman's defiant blue eyes. She seemed as formidable as a Sumo wrestler dressed in white. If she'd heard Kim identify himself as a member of the professional staff she gave no indication whatsoever.
"The sooner you check in, Doctor," Molly added, "the sooner the girl will be seen."
"You did hear me, didn't you?" Kim questioned. "I'm a senior attending in the department of cardiac surgery."
"Of course I heard you, Doctor," Molly said. "The question is: Did you hear me?"
Kim glared at the woman but she was not to be intimidated.
Tracy sensed an impasse. Having an all-too-good idea of her former husband's temper, she took it upon herself to defuse the situation.
"Come on, dear," Tracy said to Becky. "Let's follow orders and get you checked in." She guided Becky back the way they'd come.
Kim shot one more nasty look at Molly, then turned and caught up to Tracy and Becky. Together they joined the ragtag line of patients waiting to check in. But Kim was still fuming.
"I'm going to complain about that woman," Kim said. "She's not going to get away with that kind of insolence. The nerve! I can't believe it."
"She was only doing her job," Tracy replied, content to let the incident drop. She was relieved that Kim hadn't caused more of a scene.
"Oh really?" Kim snapped. "Does that mean you're trying to defend her?"
"Calm down!" Tracy said. "She's undoubtedly just following orders. You don't think she makes up the rules, do you?"
Kim shook his head. The line inched ahead. At the moment there was only one clerk taking admissions. It was her job to fill out the check-in sheet with all the pertinent information, including insurance coverage if the patient was not a member of AmeriCare's health plan.
Becky's face suddenly contorted in pain. Pressing her hand into her abdomen, she whimpered.
"What's the matter?" Kim asked.
"What do you think?" Tracy said. "It's another cramp."
Perspiration appeared on Becky's forehead and she became pale. She looked pleadingly at her mother.
"It'll pass like the others, dear," Tracy said. Tracy stroked Becky's head and then used her hand to remove the moisture from Becky's face. "Do you want to sit down?"
Becky nodded.
"Keep our place!" Tracy said to Kim.
Kim watched Tracy lead Becky over to one of the molded-plastic chairs along the wall. Becky sat down.
Kim could tell that Tracy was talking with her because Becky was nodding her head. Becky's color returned. A few minutes later Tracy came back.
"How is she?" Kim asked.
"She feels better for the moment, Tracy said. Tracy noted how little the line had advanced since they'd joined it. "Can't you think of an alternative to this?"
"It's Monday night," Kim said. "A tough night anywhere."
Tracy exhaled noisily. "I certainly miss Dr. Turner."
Kim nodded. He rose up on his tiptoes to see if he could figure out why the queue wasn't moving, but he couldn't.
"This is ridiculous," he exclaimed. "I'll be right back!"
With his mouth set in a grim line, Kim skirted the people in front of him to reach the counter. Immediately he could see why they had not moved forward. An inebriated man in a soiled and wrinkled business suit was struggling through the process of checking in. All his credit cards had fallen from his wallet. On the back of his head was an angry scalp laceration.
"Hello!" Kim called out, trying to get the receptionist's attention. She was an African-American woman in her mid-twenties. "I'm Dr. Reggis. I'm on staff in the department of cardiac surgery. I have my…"
"Excuse me," the receptionist said, interrupting Kim. "I can only deal with one person at a time."
"Listen!" Kim ordered. "I'm on the staff here…"
"It doesn't matter," the woman interjected. "We're an equal-opportunity server. It's first-come first-served for all routine emergencies."
"Routine emergencies?" Kim questioned. It was a ridiculous oxymoron. All at once the idea of trying to talk to this clerk reminded him of the frustration of having to deal with medically untrained people when he called insurance companies or managed-care plans to get clearance for patients. That chore had become one of the truly exasperating problems of modern office practice.
"Please wait at the end of the line," the receptionist said. "If you'll allow me to concentrate and get these people before you signed in, I'll be able to take your information sooner." She then directed her full attention to the drunk. In the interim he'd managed to gather the contents of his wallet.
Kim started to protest, but it was all too obvious it was a waste of time to try to talk with this woman. It occurred to him that she might not even know what the term "on staff" meant. With growing frustration, humiliation, and irritation, Kim returned to Tracy.
"I don't know where they find these people," Kim complained. "They're like automatons."
"I'm impressed by how your exalted position in this hospital has greased the skids for us."
"Your sarcasm doesn't help one iota," Kim snapped. "It's all because of the merger. I'm not known down here. In fact, I can't remember ever coming to this ER."
"If you'd taken Becky's complaints seriously over the weekend, we probably wouldn't have to be here now," Tracy said.
"I took them seriously," Kim said defensively.
"Oh, sure," Tracy said. "By giving her some over-the-counter diarrhea medications. That's really an aggressive approach! But you know something? I'm not surprised you didn't do more. You've never taken seriously any symptoms Becky has ever had. Or mine either, for that matter."
"That's not true," Kim said hotly.
"Oh, yes, it is," Tracy said. "Only someone married to a surgeon would know what I'm talking about. From your perspective, any symptom less than what would call for immediate open-heart surgery is a kind of malingering."
"I resent that," Kim said.
"Yeah, well, so do I," Tracy said.
"All right, Miss Know-It-All," Kim snapped. "What would you have had me do with Becky over the weekend?"
"Have her be seen by somebody," Tracy said. "One of your many colleagues. You must have a thousand doctor friends. It wouldn't have been too much to ask."
"Wait a second," Kim said, struggling to control himself. "All Becky had was just simple diarrhea and some cramps, both of short duration. And it was the weekend. I wasn't going to bother someone with such symptoms."
"Mommy!" Becky called. She'd come up behind Kim and Tracy. "I have to go to the bathroom!"
Tracy turned and, reminded of her daughter's discomfort, her anger immediately mellowed. She put her arm over Becky's shoulder. "I'm sorry, dear. Sure! We'll find you a bathroom."