Barry Friedman - The Old Folks At Home: Warehouse Them or Leave Them on the Ice Floe (11 page)

“No. He just brought it today. I’m to take it tonight.”

I looked at the label: Take two at bedtime.

Two! If this
was
what I thought it was, two tablets would put her in dreamland. Forever. Respiratory arrest. Like smothering someone with a pillow.

I didn’t want to alarm her. I could be wrong. “Can I take one of these?”

“Do you have arthritis too?”

“Yeah. I’ve got some in my back. Maybe this will be better than what I’m taking. If it is, I can get my doctor to prescribe it.”

“Take as many as you want. I’m sure I can get more.”

I didn’t want her taking the stuff until I’d had it analyzed. I made like I had fumbled and dropped the bottle on the floor. The few tablets it contained rolled around on the floor. “Oh damned. I’m so clumsy. I’m sorry Gladys.”

She flipped a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure they’ll bring me another supply.”

That’s what I was afraid of. I retrieved the tablets from under her bed and dresser, and palmed them. “These are filthy. I’ll toss them down the toilet.” I faked dropping them in the toilet bowl and flushed it.

Someone knocked.

Gladys said, “Come in.”

Ernie, the aide, came in, stared at me with a frown. He slid his gaze to Gladys. “I see you have a visitor. I’ll come back later.”

Gladys said, “Before you go, I dropped the bottle of arthritis pills you brought. Would you get me a replacement?”

He looked from Gladys to me and back to her. “Yeah. But I won’t be able to get the—uh medicine until tomorrow.”

Best news I’d heard today.

After he left, Gladys whispered. “He’s always so surly. Never smiles. Makes me shiver.”

“Want me to say something to Chet? Maybe tell this Ernie to cool it?”

She held up a hand. “No. Please don’t. I don’t want to get the reputation that I’m a complainer.”

 
I shrugged.” Up to you. But I’ll be back, and I’ll bring Harriet.”

.“Give her my love.” She threw me a kiss.

I hurried out. I had a big job to do before tomorrow.

Back in my apartment, I started my rush project: Find out if the tablets I’d taken from Gladys Andrews were really Sopforex.

 
Let’s see, it was six o’clock here. Back in
Decatur
,
Illinois
it was eight. Not too late to phone.

Jim Shute was my ex-company’s senior chemist. He was brilliant. He was also a little nutty. I caught him at home.

“I need a favor, Jim.”

“Shoot. Get it? Jim Shute.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Let’s cut the crap. I need an ID on some tablets.”

“So look it up in your PDR.”

The Physicians’ Desk Reference had color illustrations of most of the tablets and capsules manufactured. I said, “I can’t depend entirely on the appearance. I need a chemical analysis to be sure.”

“Send the tablets to me.”

“Take too long. I need an answer now. Like yesterday.”

I had a thought. I wanted Jim to see them. I’d Skype him.

Skype is a computer application that allows you to see and hear someone else. Remember when a video phone was something in the future? Well, the future was now.

I said, “Jim, do you have Skype?”

“Does the bear shit in the woods? Is the Pope—?”

“Enough already with the corny clichés. I take that as a yes.”

I got his Skype address, and in a few minutes we were looking at and talking to each other as though we were both in the same room. Modern technology!

I held the tablets up to the web camera. “Recognize these?”

“You know as well as I do. They’re Sopforex.”

“I have to be sure. Is there someone here who can do a stat chemical analysis?”

“You don’t need a chemical analysis. Besides it would take too long if you need it in a hurry. Maybe you remember we got our Sopforex for distribution from Cosmic Chemical. They use a marker in the drugs they manufacture so they can spot counterfeiters.”

“How do I find the marker?”

“Grind up one of the tablets and drop it in a weak acid. Acetic acid will do. If it’s their Sopforex the liquid will turn red.”

“Where am I going to get acetic acid? I can’t take the time to get it from—.”

Jim interrupted. “Jesus, Callins. Didn’t you go to high school? You can get it in any grocery store. It’s called vinegar, you dummy.”

Of course. I knew that.

After we disconnected, I looked through our kitchen cupboard and found a bottle of white vinegar. I put some in a glass and dumped in one of the tablets I had crushed to a powder.
The solution turned blood red.
Sopforex, no question about it.

Now what?

I couldn’t believe that someone had purposely given Gladys this powerful sleep-inducer. The logical conclusion was that someone had made a mistake. Another instance of giving a patient the wrong medication or dose.

Who to blame? Ernie, the aide who’d brought the “arthritis medicine” to her? The person who prescribed it? The pharmacy that had filled the prescription? The chain of responsibility was long, and at this point was less important than preventing her from getting it again.

The job of rectifying the error was beyond my pay-grade. It had to go to someone in authority. That would be Kurt Berman, the Administrator of Assisted Living. In the past, I had found him to be inaccessible. But I could reach his assistant, Chet.

It was past seven in the evening. This couldn’t wait until morning. Chet, I knew lived in a condo not far from The Bowers. If I ever knew his last name, I had forgotten it.

I phoned the concierge and identified myself. “I have to reach Chet. Can you give me his home phone number?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Callins, but we’re not allowed—.”

“But this is an emergency.”

“Want me to call 911?”

“No. It’s not kind of emergency.”

After a moment of hesitation she said, “I can try to reach him on his pager and tell him to call you.”

Why didn’t she say that in the first place?

Ten minutes later Chet called. “Hi Henry. What’s the emergency?”

It was a little complicated to tell him over the phone. “Are you at home?”

“No. I’m here on the Assisted Living floor. I had some— um, work to do.”

“Chet, would you come down to my apartment? Or would you rather meet me somewhere here in the building?”

“Nothing you’d want to discuss on the phone?”

“I’d rather do it face-to-face.”

“Okay. I’ll come down to your apartment.”

Fifteen minutes later, we were seated opposite each other in my living room, Harriet was in the bedroom watching “Want to be A Millionaire?” on TV.

I told Chet about the Sopforex Gladys had been given as an arthritis medicine, and that I’d seen to it that it was destroyed. “If you don’t know anything about the drug, I can tell you it’s a high octane knock-out pill.”

His brow wrinkled. “What’s the name of the stuff again?”

“Sopforex. Someone obviously made a big boo-boo giving it to her.”

“Who gave it to her?”

“Ernie. But I doubt he knew what it was. Probably the error was made by the pharmacy. Maybe the prescription was written in ‘doctor script.’ I think they take a med school course in writing illegibly.”

Chet scratched his chin. “Well, the first thing we have to do is see that she doesn’t get it again—or any of the other people on the floor. Then, I’ll find out why it happened.”

“I knew I could count on you to straighten things out.”

Relieved, I let Chet out and joined Harriet in finding out how to become a millionaire. With an increase in the monthly fee coming up, I needed the dough.

Chet phoned me the next day. “I’ve straightened out the snafu about Gladys’ pills. Thought you’d want to know.”

I sure did. “Thanks, Chet. Who made the mistake?”

“It’s a long story. I don’t have time to go into the details right now. Besides, we still have an investigation ongoing. Some other time we can discuss it, right?”

I was relieved and didn’t really care who made the mistake.

“While I have you on the phone,” I said, “I’d like to come up and see the Rogers and the Todds. Can you let me in?”

“Sure. What time.”

That was so easy I had trouble believing it. I was also going to add Gladys to the list, but I didn’t want to push my luck

“Is one this afternoon okay?”

He hesitated. Uh-oh. Maybe it wasn’t so easy after all. Finally, Chet said, “I have a meeting, but I’ll arrange for one of the aides to see that you get in.”

At 1 PM I was at the locked door and announced my presence over the intercom.

It was opened by Ernie, the aide, and we rode the elevator to the Assisted Living floor. I raised my hand to knock at the door to the
Rogers
’ apartment. Ernie said, “You don’t have to. They’re expecting you.”

I went in, leaving Ernie outside. Larry and Christine were seated side-by-side on the small couch, their legs covered by a blanket. Christine was smiling, and Larry’s lips drew to the side opposite his paralysis.

“Hi Larry. Christine.”

“Hi.” In unison.

Larry’s speech seemed more coherent than it had been at any time since his stroke.

“Hey Larry, you’re making progress. Must be the speech therapist.”

“Yes. The speech therapist.” It came out slurred, but certainly understandable.

Christine looked over at Larry. “The speech therapist has helped Larry.”

“How often do you go to speech therapy?

Larry looked at Christine. She shrugged a shoulder. “I forget.”

“That’s okay.” I really didn’t care. I was making conversation. “Do you hear from Helen?” Their daughter.

Christine said, “Oh yes.”

I had promised Helen I’d keep her informed about her parents’ welfare, but this was the first time I’d seen them since I ‘d reported to her after receiving her letter. Since she’d been in touch with them directly, there was no need for me to report what she probably all ready knew: they were fine.

I couldn’t think of anything else to talk about, and they didn’t initiate any more conversation. After a moment of silence I told them I was glad to see them. “I’ll pay a return visit soon. Goodbye for now.”

Again in unison, “Goodbye.”

I left, chiding myself for not spending more time with them. But they didn’t seem very talkative, and being more or less confined, they probably had little else to talk about.

Ernie was down the hall and walked over to me as I came out of the apartment.

“Was there another party you wanted to see? Chet said there were two.”

“Yes. As long as I’m here, I want to see the Todds.”

“Sure.”

“I forget where their place is.”

“Follow me.”

He walked me down the corridor, past the Administrator’s Office and around the bend to the other wing. The Todds’ apartment was the second from the end of the corridor. Next to the Activities Room. Cattycorner from the one marked “Staff Only.”

I knocked, but when there was no response after a few minutes, Ernie shrugged and opened the door.

Frank and Mary were side by side on their small couch, similar to the
Rogers
. A blanket was draped over their legs. The room did seem rather chilly. .Both smiled when they saw me.

“Hi, Frank. Mary.”

“Hi.” In unison.

“How’s the world treating you?”

Frank said, “The world?”

I snickered. “Just a figure of speech. Are you two doing okay?”

Mary said, “We’re doing okay.”

“Just okay? Not fine and dandy?”

Frank said, “Fine and dandy. Right, Mary?”

She nodded. “Fine and dandy.”

“Well we’ve got that out of the way. What have you two done lately?”

Frank glanced at Mary. “What have we done lately, Mary?”

I had almost forgotten that Frank was getting shorter and shorter in the memory department.

Mary said, “We haven’t done much lately. We eat and sleep.”

Frank echoed, “We eat and sleep.”

It seemed to me that they should arrange for some more activities for these people. After all, they couldn’t get around because of their disabilities. I know how boring it must be to sit around and look at each other.

I said, “Aren’t there lectures and movies for the folks on this floor?

Mary said, “There are lectures and movies.”

“Do you both attend them?”

Mary said, “Yes. We attend them.”

Frank said, “Yes, We attend them.”

Poor Frank. He was getting worse. I felt just as sorry for Mary. Crippled by her osteoporosis, there wasn’t much she could do.

“Do you read, Mary?”

“Yes, I read.”

On the bed stand was a book. I craned to see the title, but couldn’t make it out.

“What are you reading now?”

“We watch TV a lot.”

That didn’t answer my question, but I wasn’t about to make an issue of it.

Frank said, “We watch TV a lot.”

I searched my mind to find something to talk about, but Frank’s apparent increasing dementia made me uncomfortable. I just wanted out. I said goodbye after promising to come back another time.

I left and closed the door. Ernie, my keeper, was not in sight.

Across the hall was the Staff Room. Ernie probably was in there waiting for me. I knocked, but there was no response. I tried the doorknob, and to my amazement it was not locked. Curious as to what was beyond that door, I looked up and down the corridor and seeing no one, went into the room.

It was divided into two large rooms. The one close to the entrance was a sitting room. A cot was against the wall, probably for one of the aides to grab a little sack time.

The second room, separated by an archway, was darkened, but I could make out what appeared to be a long table and an array of artists’ paints and brushes. One wall held a large fiberboard square on which were as assortment of tools. A workroom.

Ernie still hadn’t made an appearance so I took a few hesitant steps into the workroom. In the dim light I could see on the table a bulky object covered by a sheet. A body? I drew the sheet back a few inches from one end.
And looked into the face of Gladys Andrews!