"I understand from the chart that you didn't get to see how much blood she might have passed," Kim said.
"That's right," Janet said. "The poor thing is embarrassed to beat the band. I tried to tell her not to flush after she uses the toilet, but she does anyway. What can you do?"
Kim made a mental note to talk to Claire about that problem and to Becky as well. It would be important to know if the blood was mere spotting or worse.
"Are you a consult on the case?" Janet asked.
"No," Kim said. "I'm Dr. Reggis, Becky's father."
"Oh my goodness," Janet said. "I thought you were a consult. I hope I didn't say anything out of line."
"Not at all," Kim said. "I certainly got the feeling you care for her."
"Absolutely," Janet said. "I just adore children. That's why I work this floor."
Kim went off to see his inpatients and then attend the series of hospital conferences scheduled for that morning. Like Mondays, Wednesdays were particularly busy with respect to his administrative responsibilities. Consequently, he didn't get back to Becky's floor until almost ten. When he did, the ward clerk informed him that Becky was off to X-ray. He was also told that Tracy had come in and was with her.
"Can you tell me about the status of the gastroenterology consult?" Kim asked.
"It's been ordered," the clerk said. "If that's what you mean.
"Any idea when it will be?" Kim asked.
"Sometime this afternoon, I'd guess," the clerk said.
"Would you mind giving me a call when it does happen?" Kim asked. He handed the clerk one of his cards.
"Not at all," the clerk said.
Kim thanked him and hurried off to his office. He would have preferred to see Becky and talk to her, even if for a moment, but he didn't have the time. He was already behind schedule, a fact that he was philosophical about, since it tended to happen more often than not.
'Well, Mr. Amendola," Kim said, "do you have any questions?"
Mr. Amendola was a heavyset plumber in his early sixties. He was intimidated by modern medicine and horrified by Kim's verdict: he needed a valve in his heart replaced. A few weeks earlier, he'd been blissfully unaware he even had valves in his heart. Now, after experiencing some scary symptoms, he knew that one of them was bad and had the potential to kill him.
Kim ran a nervous hand through his hair as Mr. Amendola pondered the last question. Kim's eyes wandered out the window to the pale wintery sky. He had been preoccupied ever since Tracy had called an hour earlier to say she thought Becky didn't look good, that she was glassy-eyed and listless.
With a waiting-room full of patients, Kim's response had been to instruct Tracy to page Claire and to tell her Becky's status. He also told Tracy to remind the clerk to call him when the gastroenterology consult arrived.
"Maybe I should talk to my children," Mr. Amendola said.
"Excuse me?" Kim said. He'd forgotten what he'd asked the man.
"My children," Mr. Amendola said. "I got to ask them what they think the old man should do."
"Good idea," Kim said. He stood. "Discuss it with your family. If you have any questions, just call."
Kim walked Mr. Amendola to the door.
"You're sure the tests you've done are right?" Mr. Amendola asked. "Maybe my valve isn't so bad."
"It's bad," Kim said. "Remember, we got a second opinion."
"True," Mr. Amendola said with resignation. "Okay, I'll get back to you."
Kim waited in the corridor until it was certain Mr. Amendola was on his way to reception. Then Kim lifted the heavy chart of the next patient out of the chart rack on the back of the door to the second examining room.
Before Kim had even read the name, Ginger appeared at the end of the corridor. She had to move out of the way for Mr. Amendola to pass.
"I just got a call from the ward clerk on Becky's floor," she reported. "I'm supposed to tell you that the gastro something-or-other doctor is seeing Becky at this very moment."
"Then I'm out of here," Kim said quickly. He replaced the chart into its rack and stepped into his private office. While he was getting his suit jacket from the closet, Ginger came in.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Back to the hospital," Kim said.
"When will you be back?" Ginger asked.
"I don't know," Kim said. He pulled on his winter coat. "Let Cheryl know, so that the patient doesn't sit and wait in the examining room."
"What about the other patients?" Ginger said.
"Tell them there's been an emergency," Kim said. "I'll be back but probably not for an hour and a half or so."
Kim picked up his car keys and went to his rear door.
Ginger shook her head. She was the one who would have to face the patients. From past experience she knew how upset they were going to be, especially the ones coming from out of town.
"Just do the best you can," Kim said as if reading her mind.
Kim dashed to his car. He jumped in, started it, and drove out into the congested street. Leaning on his horn, he weaved in and out of the traffic. He felt desperate. Particularly after Tracy 's comments, he did not want to miss talking directly to the GI consult.
In the hospital lobby, Kim repeatedly hit the elevator button as if such action would bring a car sooner. Several visitors eyed him suspiciously.
Once on Becky's floor, Kim literally ran down the hall. When he entered Becky's room, he was panting. He saw Tracy standing off to the side, talking with a woman in a long, professorial white coat. Even a quick glance told him that Tracy was distraught.
Becky was in her bed on her back with her head propped up against the pillow. Her dark eyes stared ahead. At the moment, the only apparent motion was the relentless drip of fluid in the millipore chamber of the IV line.
Kim stepped over to the side of the bed. "How are you doing, Pumpkin?" he asked. He grasped her hand and lifted it. There was little resistance.
"I'm tired," Becky offered.
"I'm sure you are, dear," Kim said. Instinctively he felt her pulse. Her heart rate was on the high side of normal. By gently pulling down one of her eyelids, he checked her conjunctiva. It was pale but not significantly paler than it had been. He felt her skin. It was not particularly hot or moist, and her level of hydration seemed better than it had been the night before.
Kim's own pulse began to race. He could tell what Tracy had meant. There had been a change in Becky, and Tracy 's description of glassy-eyed and listless was accurate. It was as if part of Becky's incredible life force was in abeyance. She'd become lethargic.
"I'm going to talk to Mom," Kim said.
"All right," Becky answered.
Kim stepped over to Tracy. He could see she was subtly trembling.
"This is Dr. Kathleen Morgan," Tracy said.
"Are you the GI specialist?" Kim asked.
"I am indeed," Kathleen said.
Kim eyed the woman. In many ways she was the physical antithesis of Claire Stevens, although they were about the same age. Kim estimated that she couldn't have been much over five feet in height. Her face was round and her features were quite soft. She wore wire-rimmed glasses that gave her the aura of a schoolmarm. Her dark hair was prematurely streaked with silver.
"Dr. Morgan has told me she thinks Becky's case is serious," Tracy managed.
"Oh, that's a great comment," Kim remarked with obvious derision. "Serious, huh? I don't need someone to tell me it's serious. She wouldn't be in the goddamn hospital if it weren't serious. I need someone to say what it is that she has and how to treat and cure it."
"The lab will call me the moment they have a positive," Kathleen said warily. She was taken aback by Kim's response. "Until then our hands are tied."