"I heard what happened downstairs," James said. "I think it's best you don't come into the OR."
"But I want to come in." Kim said.
"Maybe so," James said. "But you're not."
"The hell I'm not," Kim said. "This is my daughter, my only daughter."
"That's the point," James said. "You stay out in the lounge, or I'm not doing the case. It's as simple as that."
Kim's face reddened. He felt panic about being cornered and confused as to what he should do. He desperately wanted James to do the surgery, but he was terrified to be apart from Becky.
"You have to make up your mind," James said. "The longer you agonize, the worse it is for Becky."
Kim angrily snatched his arm free, and, without saying another word, he broke off from staring at James. He strode away toward the surgical locker room.
Kim didn't look at the faces of the people in the surgical lounge as he passed through. He was too distraught. But he didn't pass by unnoticed.
In the locker room, Kim went directly to the sink and filled the bowl with cold water. He splashed it repeatedly onto his face before straightening up to regard himself in the mirror. Over his shoulder, he saw the pinched face of Forrester Biddle.
"I want to talk with you." Forrester said in his clipped voice.
"Talk," Kim said. He took a towel and briskly dried his face. He didn't turn around.
"After imploring you not to go to the media with your opinions, I was appalled to hear Kelly Anderson again quote you on the eleven o'clock news."
Kim let out a short, mirthless laugh. "That's curious, considering that I had refused to talk with her."
"She said it was your feeling that AmeriCare closed the Samaritan ER to cut costs and increase profits by forcing everyone to use the overburdened ER here at the University Med Center."
"I didn't say that," Kim responded. "She did."
"She quoted you," Forrester said.
"A curious situation," Kim said casually. In his current agitated state of mind he was getting perverse pleasure out of Forrester's self-righteous anger. Consequently Kim was not inclined to defend himself, although the incident strengthened his resolve never to talk to the TV journalist again.
"I'm warning you again," Forrester announced. "The administration and myself only have so much forbearance."
"Fine," Kim said. "Consider me warned again."
For a moment Forrester's tight mouth became a grim line without lips. "You can be galling," he spat. "I should remind you that just because you ran the department over at the Samaritan, you should not expect special treatment over here."
"That's apparent," Kim said. He threw the towel into the hamper and walked out, without giving Forrester another glance.
Using the phone in one of the dictation booths to avoid Forrester, Kim called Ginger to tell her that he'd not be coming back to the office. She told him that she'd assumed as much and had sent all the patients home.
"Were they upset?" Kim asked.
"Do you really have to ask?" Ginger said. "Of course they were upset, but they understood when I said it was an emergency. I hope you don't mind that I said it involved your daughter. I knew they'd empathize."
"I suppose that's all right," Kim said, although mixing his private life and professional life bothered him.
"How is Becky?" Ginger asked.
Kim explained what had happened and that Becky was in surgery at that moment.
"I'm so sorry," Ginger said. "Is there anything I can do?"
"I can't think of anything," Kim said.
"Call me," Ginger said. "After aerobics I'll be at home."
"Fine," Kim said. He hung up.
Knowing himself well enough that he could not just sit and wait while Becky was in surgery, Kim went to the hospital library. He had a lot of reading to do. He had to learn what he could about E. coli 0157:H7 and HUS.
Kim glanced at his watch. It was almost midnight. He looked back at Becky and shuddered. Her image was distorted by a clear plastic tube that snaked out of one of her nostrils and was attached to low suction. Becky's dark hair framed her otherwise angelic, pale face with soft waves. Tracy had combed it for almost an hour. It was something Becky had always liked, and it had done the trick. Becky was fast asleep and appeared for the moment the picture of tranquility.
Kim was standing next to Becky's bed. The room was awash with the gentle glow of the reflected night-light, just as it had been early that morning. Kim was exhausted mentally and physically.
Tracy was on the other side of the bed, leaning back in one of the two vinyl-covered chairs in the room. She had her eyes closed, but Kim knew she was not asleep.
The door opened on silent hinges. Janet Emery, the corpulent night nurse, pushed through the door. Her permed blond hair glowed in the half light. She didn't speak. She moved to the side of the bed opposite from Kim. Her shoes were soled in a soft crepe so her footfalls were inaudible. Using a small flashlight, she took Becky's blood pressure, pulse, and temperature. Becky stirred but immediately fell back asleep.
"Everything staying nice and normal," Janet said in a low voice.
Kim nodded.
"Maybe you folks should think about going home," Janet added. "I'll be keeping a sharp eye on your little angel here."
"Thanks but I prefer to stay," Kim said.
"Seems to me you could use some rest yourselves," Janet said. "It's been a long day."
"Just do your job," Kim grumbled.
"No question about that," Janet said cheerfully. She went to the door and silently disappeared.
Tracy opened her eyes and glanced over at Kim. He looked wretched under the strain. His hair was a mess and his face covered with stubble. The single nightlight near the floor accentuated the gauntness of his cheeks and made his eye sockets look like dark hollows.
"Kim!" Tracy said. "Can't you control yourself? It's not helping anyone not even yourself."
Tracy waited for a response, but it didn't come. Kim appeared like a sculpture depicting anguished frenzy.
Tracy sighed and stretched. "How's Becky doing?"
"She's holding her own," Kim said. "At least the surgery handled the immediate crisis."
The surgery had gone quickly. In fact, James had reported to Kim that what had taken the most time was a painstaking irrigation of Becky's abdomen to lessen the chances of infection. Following the surgery, Becky had spent a short time in the recovery room before being brought back to the floor. Kim had requested the ICU but again he'd been overruled.
"Tell me again about her colostomy," Tracy asked. "You said it can be closed in a couple of weeks."
"Something like that," Kim said tiredly. "If all goes well."
"It was a major shock for Becky," Tracy said. "As was the tube in her nose. She's having a hard time coping. What's made it worse is she feels betrayed because no one told her these things might happen."
"It couldn't be helped," Kim snapped.
Kim backed up and sank into a chair similar to Tracy 's. With his elbows on the hard wooden arms, he buried his face in his hands.
Now all Tracy could see was the top of Kim's head over Becky's bed. He didn't move. The sculpture of anguished frenzy had assumed another, even more expressive pose.
Looking at Kim's dejected posture forced her to think about the situation from Kim's point of view. Drawing on her experience as a therapist, she could appreciate how hard it had to be for him, considering not only his surgical training but, more important, his narcissism. All at once her anger toward him melted.
"Kim," Tracy called. "Maybe you should go home. I think you need some distance as well as rest. Besides, you have to see patients tomorrow. I can stay. I'll just be skipping class."