The Family Doctor (3 page)

The burning subsided enough so that Tony could straighten. A nurse stayed with him, and when the aide arrived with a large bowl of broth on a tray, she cranked the back of the bed higher so he could sit more comfortably.

Tony had never been as grateful for a simple bowl of beef broth. He spooned it up, and almost immediately the pain in his chest and abdomen began to ease.

“Better?” The nurse smiled at him, and he was able to give her a facsimile of a smile in return.

He finished the entire bowl in less than two minutes. The nurse set the tray on a cart. Sinking back on the bed, he heaved a sigh—and with the speed and intensity of a killer wave rolling in, a sensation of extreme heat rushed over him. It grew more and more intense, and as he felt his throat begin to swell, panic overwhelmed him.

“Allergy,” he whispered with the last of his breath.

He heard the nurse shouting and was dimly aware of bodies surrounding him and voices talking in urgent tones. In the few moments before he lost consciousness, he knew he was about to die, after all.

“D
ID YOU HEAR THAT
O'C
ONNOR'S
now on a respirator in ICU?”

Leslie was taking hungry bites of her tuna sandwich. It was past two in the afternoon, and she and Kate were sitting in the hospital cafeteria.

“The whole story's been flying back and forth on e-mail all day,” Kate said with a shake of her head that sent her auburn hair flying. “It's hard to believe there could be such a series of problems, and with the chief of staff, of all people.”

“It would be funny if it hadn't almost been tragic,” Leslie agreed. “The final straw was that new French chef in the kitchen.”

“Rene Lalonde,” Kate said. “I heard that he put eggshells in the beef broth. Now, why would he
do
that?”

“Apparently it's a traditional French custom. It clarifies it or something. How was he to know that O'Connor was violently allergic to eggs? We had his allergy marked down on the admitting form, but none of us suspected there'd be eggshells in the broth. I tell you, I've seen some panic situations in the ER, but today took the prize. Practically every
doctor in the entire hospital was down there at one point. Nobody could see any obvious reason for such extreme symptoms. It was Jensen who finally asked for a detailed list of what the broth was made of.”

“Tony's going to be okay, isn't he?” Kate felt ashamed of her earlier lack of sympathy for his medical problems. He certainly didn't deserve to be in ICU on a respirator.

Leslie nodded. She finished her sandwich and gulped some of her coffee, swearing when it burned her tongue. “He's stable at the moment, but it was touch-and-go there for a while. They even called next of kin—his family's upstairs right now. Apparently his mom is really up in arms. According to the nurses, she's been making noises about suing the hospital for malpractice.”

They looked at each other and shook their heads.

“Can you imagine the headlines?”

Kate could, only too well. “Sounds like Tony's mom is really scared,” she mused. She struggled again with her personal feelings, but she knew what her professional role was. “I'll go up and see what I can do. Maybe just talking to somebody would help her feel better about things.”

“Better you than me,” Leslie said, sounding skeptical. “One of the nurses up there told me the woman's a real piece of work.”

“Well, I'd rather have her unload on me than on a lawyer.”

Leslie raised her eyebrows. “Anybody ever tell you that the normal reaction to a bad scene is to run the other way?”

Kate grinned. “Yeah, but I get paid good money for standing still and deflecting bullets. Back when I was nursing, I told myself I could do a lot more for emotional issues than I ever could for physical ones.” That conviction had inspired her to go back to school and take one course after the other in psychology and conflict management. “And you're a great one to talk about running away from emergencies, Les. Besides, I'd like to meet Tony's mother. Talking to someone's mother can give a lot of insight into why their kids are the way they are.” Kate chewed the last of her bun, reflecting that she could use all the help she could get as far as Tony was concerned. It was humiliating to be able to resolve everyone else's anger but her own.

“Yeah?” Leslie gave her a narrow-eyed look. “So that's what you and Galina talk about each time I go to the bathroom, huh? You're trying to analyze me.”

“Don't flatter yourself. Your mom tells me how sexy the guys in Rehab are and asks why you and I don't spend more time down there. Beats me. By the way, how's Galina doing with rehab these days, Les?”

Leslie's mother, Galina Poulin, was in her seventies, stubborn, opinionated, funny and delightful. In January, she'd decided to wash the bathroom
walls in the town house she and Leslie shared, and she'd fallen and broken her hip. Galina had stubbornly refused to consider physiotherapy until the night Kate came to dinner.

It had taken a great deal of persuasion to convince Galina to even visit the rehab unit. When at last she agreed, Kate introduced her to the therapists, and one of them, Isaac Harris, had charmed her and talked her into coming twice a week for therapy.

“She loves Isaac—she giggles and blushes when I tease her about him,” Leslie laughed. “She's really making headway. I wondered there for a while if she'd ever walk again, but now she's off the crutches, just using a cane. I owe you for that one, Kate.”

“Hey, your mom's done it all by herself. I only hope I have half her energy when I'm her age.”

Leslie beamed. “Me, too. She's one of my best friends.”

“Not many people can say that about a parent.” She never could, Kate reflected sadly. “It says a lot about the kind of person you are, Les, that you and Galina get along the way you do.”

“Yeah, doesn't it? Divorced single female, emotionally dependent, insecure and tied to my mom's apron strings.”

They looked at each other and chorused,
“Not.”

The hospital's PR system came on. “All ER staff
please report back to Emerg, all staff back to Emerg, stat.”

Leslie groaned, gulped the last of her coffee and got to her feet. “I'm not sure I even wanna know what that's about.”

“Good luck.”

“Today we need it,” Leslie sighed. “Let me know how you make out with Mother O'Connor.”

“I will. See you later.” Kate watched her friend hurry off, then finished her coffee and reluctantly made her way up to the Intensive Care Unit.

The nurse at the desk indicated which waiting room the O'Connor family were in and confirmed that Dr. O'Connor was steadily improving. As Kate headed down the hallway, she could hear a woman's loud, angry voice.

“—never heard of such a thing, eggshells in soup. It had to be deliberate. God knows Tony has enemies here—he's in a position of power and that always means stepping on somebody's toes. Did you call the pastor like I said, Wilson? I'd like Reverend Anderson to come. I know they say Tony's improving, but did you
see
his color? White as a sheet.”

Kate paused in the doorway. There were five people in the room, two men and three women. The plump, older woman with the tightly permed white hair must be Tony's mother, Kate deduced. She'd been the one talking when Kate came in.

They all turned toward her. “Hello,” she said
with a reassuring smile. “I'm Kate Lewis, the patient rep.” She directed her attention to the older woman, stepping toward her and extending a hand.

“And you are…?”

“I'm Dorothy O'Connor. I'm Dr. O'Connor's mother.” She gave Kate an assessing look.

Dorothy's eyes were red rimmed behind her pink-framed glasses, and her face had settled into what Kate thought were permanently dissatisfied lines. “How do you do?” Kate kept her hand extended, but Dorothy ignored it, so she turned to the others with a questioning smile.

Dorothy immediately took control. “This is my oldest son, Wilson O'Connor, and my son-in-law, Peter Shiffman.”

The men mumbled greetings, and then Dorothy introduced the two women. “And these are my daughters, Judy Shiffman and Georgia O'Connor.”

Judy was obviously older than Georgia, but both sisters were slender and of medium height. Judy had Tony's dark hair, and was wearing a tailored dress, stockings and heels, her makeup meticulous. Georgia's hair was fiery red, drawn up in a careless knot at the back of her head, and she wore jeans and no makeup. They each gave Kate a strained smile and a nod, although neither said anything beyond hello.

“I wonder if there's something I can help you with?” Kate began. “Do you have any questions you need answered regarding Dr. O'Connor's care?
Any concerns you might have that you'd like to talk over? I know this is a very stressful time for you, and I'd like to make it easier in any way I can.” She directed her remarks at Dorothy.

“And just how can you make anything easier?” Dorothy's voice was sarcastic. “This hospital won't get away with this fiasco, you know. You just tell me how my son could sprain his ankle this morning and then end up in intensive care with his life slipping away from him.” She raised her glasses and dabbed at her eyes with the lacy handkerchief she held clutched in one hand, but anger overpowered tears. Her voice rose. “Why, it's malpractice, plain and simple, any idiot can see that. My son's a doctor, and he's chief of staff here, too. It makes you wonder what happens to the ordinary Joe when he walks in off the street. What would the papers do if they got hold of this news? I can tell you there'd be an uproar, and rightly so.”

Tony's brother, Wilson, stepped forward and put an arm around his mother, nodding in agreement and looking at Kate as if it was all her fault.

“Maybe we ought to give the
Vancouver Sun
a call,” he said to Kate in an accusing tone. “You people need to know that gross carelessness of this sort simply won't be tolerated.” He sounded pompous and self-righteous. “Like Mother says, it's malpractice, and someone should pay.”

Kate waited until he was finished speaking, reminding herself that this wasn't about her. She took
a deep breath and kept her voice even, her tone friendly and nonjudgmental. “It sounds as if you're all very upset and angry, and you have every right to be. This must be terribly stressful for you.”

Dorothy snorted. “Darned right it's stressful. My poor son is lying in there not able to talk—” she pointed dramatically toward the Intensive Care Unit, and her voice wobbled “—and not one person is doing anything about it. As far as I can tell, nobody even cares.”

Kate had to bite her tongue hard in order to keep from telling Dorothy that she was totally wrong, that the entire hospital was in an uproar. Specialists had been called in, and every physician, nurse, tech and aide was horrified at the series of events that had led to this emergency.

Everyone, down to the newest member of the cleaning staff, cared a great deal. But Kate knew that blocking Dorothy's anger would only exacerbate it. Listening and sharing information were tried-and-true ways to defuse that anger, difficult as they were.

Now Georgia O'Connor stepped toward Kate, and she sounded more worried than angry. “Could you find out exactly what's going on with Tony? They asked us to leave because a couple of doctors were examining him, and the nurse said they'd speak to us when they were done. They came out, but so far, nothing.” She drew in a shaky breath, obviously on the verge of tears. “We just want to
know how he's doing.” Her large brown eyes were filled with concern, her forehead creased in worried lines.

“Absolutely,” Kate said. “I'll go now and check with the nurse, then I'll come right back and let you know exactly what she says.”

Kate found four doctors grouped around the nursing station, and when she asked, they assured her that the chief was improving rapidly. She suggested that the family needed reassurance, and Dr. Clark agreed. He walked to the waiting room. Kate followed, listening quietly as the doctor, with admirable candor, explained the entire sequence of events to the O'Connor family without making a single excuse.

Dorothy interrupted repeatedly, her tone accusing, her manner confrontational, and Kate had to admire the way Clark listened with patience and forbearance and then each time quietly reiterated the fact that the patient was improving rapidly and it looked as if there'd be no further side effects. Tony would remain in intensive care overnight, but there was every reason to believe he'd be back on his feet within a day or so, and the medical staff were doing everything in their power to help him recover.

“Exactly what does that mean?” Wilson O'Connor demanded. “It sounds as if my brother's at death's door already because of the incompetence of the staff around here.”

“What's happened is unfortunate,” Clark said. “But we really are doing our best for Tony, I assure you. I consider him a friend as well as a colleague.”

Tony's mother gave another snort. “With friends like he's got here at St. Joseph's, I'd like to know who needs enemies.”

Dr. Clark's face flushed at this obvious insult and he gave a pointed glance at his watch, nodded to everyone and walked out of the room, murmuring excuses about being late for an appointment.

“Can't stand to hear the truth,” Dorothy said in a self-satisfied voice.

“Actually, you were pretty rude to him, Mom.” Georgia's chin rose, and she returned her mother's belligerent gaze. “He was only trying to be helpful.”

“Well, we all know whose side you're on, don't we?” Dorothy's skin flushed magenta, and her eyes narrowed as she glared at her daughter. “Just because you're hoping to be a doctor yourself doesn't mean you ought to defend something like this.”

Georgia swallowed and it was obvious she was holding back tears. “I'm on Tony's side. All I care about is that he gets better. I don't think laying blame on anybody is helpful.”

Kate silently applauded.

“Well, I'm sure you'd handle everything so much better than I do,” Dorothy said in a sarcastic voice. “Although two divorces aren't exactly what I'd call an example of good judgment.”

Georgia's face flushed and Kate felt a rush of sympathy for her.

“I don't think this is any time to be jumping down Mom's throat, Georgia,” Wilson admonished, again taking his mother's side. “She's under a lot of stress here.”

“We all are,” Georgia said in a trembling voice. “Why does everything always have to turn into a huge fight? We're in this together. We're all worried about Tony.”

There was silence for a few seconds.

“Georgia's right,” Judy agreed. “We should pull together instead of arguing at a time like this. And it sounds as if the worst is over, which is a good thing because Peter and I are going to have to leave now, Mom.” Judy pointed at her watch. “Otherwise we'll get caught in rush hour traffic and be late picking up the kids from school.”