Strong Medicine (29 page)

150

The fact of riot seeing Lisa and Bruce, to which she had been looking

forward, as well as what seemed a coolness in Andrew's tone, irritated

Celia and she snapped, "You're not the only one who had a lousy day."

"I didn't say it was lousy, just grueling," he observed. "Though for me

there were unpleasant portions."

Though neither realized it, the high altitude of Quito-more than nine

thousand feet above sea level-was having an effect on them both. In Celia

it produced a physical weariness, worsening her already downbeat mood.

And Andrew had a sharpened acuity, an aggressive edginess, in contrast

to his normal easygoing ways at home.

Celia said, - 'Unpleasant portions!' I don't know what you're talking

about."

"I'm talking about that!" Andrew jabbed a finger, pointing to a

collection of pharmaceutical bottles and packages on a side table.

With an expression of distaste, she told him, "I've had enough of that

stuff for one day, so I suggest you get those out of here."

"You mean you're not interested?" His tone was sarcastic.

"Dammit! No!"

"Frankly, I didn't expect you to be. Because what I have here is about

drug companies and it's unpleasant." Andrew picked up a small plastic

container. "Today, as well as taking the children out, I did some

shopping and asked questions."

Flipping open the container top, he poured tablets into his hand and held

them out. "Do you know what these are?"

"Of course I don't!" Dropping into a chair, Celia peeled off her shoes

and left them where they fell. "What's more, I don't care."

"You should care! Those are Thalidomide and I bought them today in a

local drogueria-without a prescription."

The reply jolted Celia and the sharp exchange might have ended there,

except that Andrew went on, "The fact that I could buy them, five years

after they should have been withdrawn, and buy other dangerous drugs

marketed here without proper wamings because there are no govemment

agencies to insist on adequate labeling, is typical of the don't

-give-a-damn attitude of American drug firms, including your own precious

Felding-Roth!"

The injustice, as Celia saw it, when she had spent a large part of her

day attempting to change what Andrew had just criticized, inflamed her

to hot anger. It also robbed her of all reason. Instead of telling

Andrew, as she had intended to do later that evening, of

151

her frustration with Antonio Jos~ Moreno, she threw back at him her

version of Moreno's answer. "What the hell do you know about local

problems and regulations? What right have you to come here and tell

Ecuador how to run this country?"

Andrew's face went white. "The right I have is that I'm a doctor! And I

know that pregnant women who take these tablets will have babies with

flippers instead of arms. Do you know what the pharmacist told me today?

He said, yes he had heard about Thalidomide, but he didn't know these

tablets were the same thing because they're called Ondasil. And in case

you don't know, Celia, or don't want to know, Thalidomide has been sold

by drug companies under fifty-three different names. "

Without waiting for a response, he stormed on, "Why always so many

different names for drugs? Certainly not to help patients or their

doctors. The only reason anyone can think of is to sow confusion and aid

the drug firms when there's trouble. Speaking of trouble, look at this!"

Selecting another bottle, Andrew held it out. Celia could read the label:

Chloromycetin.

"If you bought this in the U.S.," he declared, "there'd be a published

warning about possible side effects, especially fatal blood dyscrasias.

Not here, though! Not a word!"

From the collection on the table he chose one more. "I got this today,

too. Take a look at Felding-Roth's Lotromycin, which you and I both know

about. We also know it shouldn't be used by anyone with impaired kidney

function, or by pregnant women, or women breast-feeding infants. But is

there a printed warning saying so? Not on your life! Who cares if a few

people suffer or die here because they haven't been cautioned? After all,

it's only Ecuador, a long way from New Jersey. Why should Felding-Roth

care? Or Celia Jordan?"

She screamed back at him, "How dare you say that to me!"

Now Andrew lost control.

"I dare," he answered fiercely, "because I've seen you change. Change

little by little over eleven years. From having decent feelings and

ideals and caring, to not caring quite so much, then relaxing while you

helped push useless over-the-counter junk, and now moving on to

this-using phony head-in-the-sand excuses to justify something which you

know is evil, but won't concede, even to yourself" His voice rose. "What

happened to that idealistic girl who first brought me Lotromycin and

wanted to raise the ethics of

152

the drug business, the same one who stood up, straight and strong, at a

New York sales meeting and criticized dishonest detailing? You want to

know what happened to her? I think she sold out."

Andrew stopped, then inquired scathingly, "Were ambition and promotion

worth it?"

"You bastard!" Acting instinctively, without rational thought, Celia

reached down and, seizing one of the shoes she had dropped moments

earlier, threw it hard at Andrew. Her aim was unerring. The shoe's

stiletto heel struck him on the left side of his face, opening a gash

from which blood spurted. But Celia failed to see. Blind to all else, she

hurled venomous words.

"What gives you the right to be so goddam holy about morals and ideals?

What happened to yours? Where were your precious ideals when you did

nothing about Noah Townsend, and let him go on practicing medicine for

nearly five years, when all that time he was high on drugs, and a danger

to himself and others? And don't blame the hospital! Their inaction

doesn't excuse you! You know it!

"And what about that patient," Celia stormed on, "the young one, Wyrazik?

Was it really Noah who killed him, or was it you? You, because when you

could have done something about Noah, you did nothing, and left doing

anything until too late. Do you ever lie awake nights wondering about

that, and feeling guilty? Because you shouldl And do you ever wonder if

there weren't some other patients Noah killed during those five years,

others you don't know about, and who died because of your neglect? Do you

hear me, you self-righteous hypocrite? Answer!"

Abruptly Celia stopped. Stopped, not only because she had run out of

words, but because she had never seen such anguish as on Andrew's face.

Her hand went to her mouth.

She said softly, to herself, in horror, "Oh, my God! What have I done!"

Then it was not just anguish in Andrew's expression which she saw, but

sudden shock at something happening behind her. Following his gaze, Celia

wheeled. Two small pajama-clad figures had come into the room. In their

uncontrolled fury, both parents had forgotten Lisa and Bruce in the

bedroom next door.

"Mommy! Daddy!" It was Lisa's voice, choked with tears.

Bruce was sobbing uncontrollably.

Celia rushed toward both, arms outstretched, in tears herself But Lisa

was faster. Dodging her mother, she went to Andrew.

153

"Daddy, you're hurt!" She saw the shoe, which had blood on the heel, and

cried out, "Mommy, how could you!"

Andrew touched his face, which was still bleeding. Blood seemed

everywhere-on his hands, his shirt, the floor.

Now Bruce joined Lisa, clinging to his father while Celia watched

helplessly, guiltily, standing back.

It was Andrew who resolutely broke the impasse.

"No!" he told the children. "Don't do this! You must not take sides! Your

mother and I have been foolish. Both of us were wrong, and we're ashamed,

and all of us will talk about it later. But this is still one family. We

belong together."

Then, suddenly, all four of them were holding each other, emotionally, as

if they never wanted to be separate again.

Soon after it was Lisa, aged ten, who broke away and, going to a bathroom,

brought back wet towels with which, competently, she wiped her father's

face and washed away the blood.

Much later, when the children were again in bed and sleeping, Andrew and

Celia came together, making love with a passionate, wild abandon, greater

by far than they had experienced for a long time. Near the peak of their

frantic coupling, Celia cried out, "Deeper! Deeper! Hurt mel" And Andrew,

relinquishing all gentleness, seized her, crushed her, and thrust himself

into her, roughly, crudely, deeply, again and again.

It was as if their earlier fierceness had released passions other than

anger, passions which suddenly coalesced.

Afterward, though exhausted, they talked far into the night and again next

day. "It was the kind of talk," Andrew said later, "which we've needed to

have, yet both of us put off."

What each conceded was that, for the most part, there had been unpleasant

truths in the other's accusations.

"Yes," Celia admitted, "I have relaxed some standards I once had. Not all,

or even most, but some. And there have been times I've put my conscience in

my pocket. I'm not proud of it, and I'd like to say I'll go back to the way

things were before, but I have to be honest-at least in this-and say I'm

not certain if I can."

"I guess," Andrew said, "all of it goes with growing older. You think

you're wiser, more seasoned, and you are. But you've also learned along the

way that there are obstacles and practicalities which idealism won't ever

conquer, so you case up on ideals."

154

"I intend to try to do better," Celia said. "I really do. To make sure

that what happened to us here will not be wasted."

"I guess that goes for us both," Andrew said.

Earlier he had told Celia, "You touched a nerve when you asked if I lie

awake sometimes, wondering about Wyrazik's death and perhaps some others.

Could I have saved Wyrazik by acting sooner about Noah? Yes, I could, and

it's no good saying otherwise and living with delusions. The only thing

I can say is that there isn't anyone who's been years in medicine who

doesn't have something in the past to look back on and know he could have

done better, and perhaps saved somebody who died. Of course, it shouldn't

happen often, but if it does, the best you can do is hope that what you

learned you'll use later on for the benefit of someone else."

A postscript to what happened was that next day Andrew had three stitches

in his face, put there by a local mMico who observed with a smile as his

patient left, "Probably a scar stays, Doctor. It will serve as a reminder

to your wife." Since Andrew had earlier described the cut as the result

of a fall while climbing, it merely showed that Quito was a small place

where gossip traveled fast.

"I feel terrible about that," Celia said. It was a few hours later and

they were having lunch with the children.