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“Sure.”

Thanks for doing this so quickly, Chris.”

“
De nada
, you old goat. When are you gonna get into your coffin?”

“They don’t make them big enough, youngster.”

He disconnected then tapped in another number.

“Doctors paging desk, this is Louella.”

“Young lady, did you know in ancient times there used to be a famous gossip columnist with your name?”

“Yes, Dr. Galen, you tell me that every time. What can I do for you?”

She replied with a slight giggle.

“Is Pete LeNard on page?”

“Yes, I’ll get him for you.”

“This is Dr. LeNard.”

“Pete, it’s Galen. Got a friend of mine here with a lump. Chris Feisler is going to do the MRI mammogram and I’ve asked him to page you with the results.”

“Sure thing. What’s her name?”

“Sophie Caddler.”

“Wasn’t she…?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “When it rains it pours, Pete. Sophie just married another good friend of mine, Lem Caddler. Didn’t you do his gall bladder a while back?”

“Yeah. Tough old bird. Okay, I’ll be waiting for Chris’s call.

“Thanks, Pete.”

“Wish we coulda gotten things done that quickly in Kenya.”

Sandy was shaking her head in amazement.

Galen turned to Sophie and Lem.

“I’ve arranged for you to be scanned this afternoon, Sophie.”

“She got cancer, Doc?”

Lem had never been afraid of words.

“That’s what we’re going to find out. And if it is, it’s going to be taken care of, understand?”

He looked both of them squarely in the eye, trying to reassure, trying to convince, trying to relieve the anxiety and fear they both were trying so hard to conceal.

Galen and Sandy remained silent as they made their way back to the big house. When they entered the foyer, they found Nancy and Edison waiting for them.

“We’re going with them to the hospital.”

Nancy remembered that day in the emergency room when she watched her own body from above as Galen repeatedly shocked her heart and finally plunged the adrenalin needle into her chest to bring her back to life.

Her left hand went involuntarily to her left upper chest where the implanted pacemaker-defibrillator lay hidden.

Edison headed outside to warm up the van as Nancy dialed Sophie’s number to tell her they were coming over. Then she called Lachlan and Diane Douglas. Miriam would need to be watched while the two were away.

The theme music from Ingmar Bergman’s
Wild Strawberries
emanated softly from the ceiling speakers as the six walked into the hospital admitting lobby. Nancy and Sandy held Sophie’s hands while Galen led the way to the sign-in desk. Edison stayed by Lem’s side, reliving his own day of terror when his wife lay clinically dead in the emergency room.

“Mrs. Caddler, let me show you to the dressing room.”

The young assistant had stood by the side of her own mother not too long ago and understood the tension in the older woman.

“May I come with her?” Nancy asked quietly.

The assistant remembered her, too.

“Mrs. Edison, we wouldn’t want you to get too close to the MRI equipment because of...”

She stopped as she saw Nancy’s subtle headshake.

Don’t tell them about my pacemaker.

“You can come with Mrs. Caddler to the changing area but I can’t let you go any farther. It’s for your own safety.”

Nancy nodded.

Thank you.

“I’m goin’ with my wife.”

The assistant looked at the life-worn face of the older man, started to say no, then took her cue from Galen’s nod.

Galen and Sandy stood by Feisler’s side as the powerful magnetic field interrupted and rearranged the micro-universe of Sophie’s water molecules to reveal the hidden images within her chest.

The imaging area was a far cry from the old darkened rooms and x-ray-film-covered light boxes of the past. Now zeroes and ones created their digital images of life and death on flat screen viewing ports in full daylight.

“There’s the sucker, guys.”

Feisler grinned as Galen blushed at Sandy’s comment.

The young interventional radiologist pointed to the stellate mass appearing on the screen before them. Its star-like arms reminded Galen of the mycelia of mushrooms.

“I don’t see any collateral spread, Chris. Am I right?”

“Sure looks like it. Pete LeNard shouldn’t have any trouble popping this one out. I don’t see any lymph node changes but I’m sure he’ll take samples for sentinel BRC testing.

“I don’t think we need to do the CT-guided biopsy.”

Then Feisler jumped as a voice boomed from the back of the room.

“Of course I won’t have any trouble, shadow boy.”

“Didn’t hear you come in, Pete. Want me to put ‘Mack the Knife’ on the music machine?”

“Galen, I thought you taught this boy more modern stuff. We use lasers now.”

“Who’s the funny-looking tall drink of water, Bear?”

“That’s Dr. LeNard, Sandy. Great surgeon—and he’s married.”

“Damn, I was ready to dump you. He’s better looking.”

“She’s got a point, old man. I am better looking. Now, introduce me to this young lady.”

“Dr. Sandy McDevitt, Dr. Peter LeNard. He’s modest, honest, and I lie a lot.”

Galen was always amazed at how laid back the surgeon was. Always a smile on his face, until he focused on what worried the patient. Then his concern and compassion came through, doing more to help that person than any pill or shot could.

“I’ve got OR 3 open for 8 p.m. The pre-op lab work won’t take long. Let’s get that ... what did you call it, Sandy? That sucker out of her today.”

Three doctors nodded and Galen suppressed a laugh as the image of Macbeth’s three witches popped into his mind.

“It’s out, Sophie.”

The sedation was wearing off. She felt his rough hand on hers and then the craggy outlines of his worried face came into focus. As she turned her head slightly the faces of four old timers came into view as well.

“We’ll take you home tomorrow morning.”

Edison felt the fatigue and let down from the tension of the day.

“I’m stayin’ here with her, Doc.”

“Okay, Lem, I think that can be arranged. We’ll pick the both of you up when Dr. LeNard discharges Sophie.”

“Sandy and I will bring some stuff for you, Sophie,” Nancy added. The three women smiled. The three men wondered: What “stuff?”

It was after midnight when the four arrived back at Safehaven. They had quickly stopped by the little cottage to check on Diane and Miriam. Nancy and Edison retired to their bedroom. Galen and Sandy sat in the living room, staring into the darkness

“It’s like old times, isn’t it, Bear?”

“I’m glad we don’t do it every day anymore. Can you imagine what it would be like: on call 24 hours a day of patient care?”

“You’re lying, big guy. You loved every minute of it.”

“Yeah.”

Misty fog covered the mountain the next day. Galen called the discharge desk and confirmed Sophie’s orders. A quick breakfast later the four piled into the van. Edison carefully maneuvered the vehicle down a near-zero-visibility mountain road to the highway. Even in the fog he made good time and soon pulled up to the hospital area called The Loading Doc.

“Sandy and I are going up to see Sophie. You guys wait here.”

The two women moved quickly down the corridor carrying two small suitcases. They reached the overnight patient wing and stood in front of Room 3.

Nancy knocked softly then slowly opened it. Sophie, more alert now, was sitting on the edge of the bed, Lem by her side.

“Okay, Lem, give us some time with your girlfriend here.”

She silently shooed the beanpole farmer out of the room, set the cases on the bed and opened them. Fifteen minutes later Sandy opened the door and called Lem back in. A transformed Sophie—hair made up, just the right amount of makeup, and a bright tangerine two piece dress replacing the hospital gown—smiled as her husband’s eyes lit up.

The discharge nurse winked at Nancy and Sandy gave Sophie a thumbs up, and wheeled the homebound patient to the hospital exit. Lem stood by Sophie’s wheelchair, holding her hand.

“Come on, you two lovebirds, time to go home,” Edison called out the van window at Sophie and Lem, as Galen helped Sophie into the rear seat. Nancy sat next to her on one side as Lem took over the other.

Sandy sat next to Galen.

The sun made brief attempts to break through the fog, finally succeeding as the van pulled up in front of the caretaker’s cottage. While Edison carried Sophie’s bags into the house Galen approached a tired looking Diane Douglas. She seemed flustered, somewhat unusual for her normally unflappable personality.

“Is Miriam okay?”

“She kept me up half the night. I couldn’t get her to stop drawing. It was 3 a.m. when I finally got her to bed. Most of the stuff is just lines but the last two pictures...”

Galen stared at the exquisite line drawing and instinctively knew that Sophie would do well. A large bear, forepaws extended, protectively embraced the photographic likeness of Lem and Sophie.

The second drawing startled him. He stared at his own image almost seven decades younger, arm wrestling another young man. But the second boy was only a vague mist, and Galen could not identify him. As Nancy approached, he quickly folded the paper and placed it in his side pocket.

“How’s she going to do?”

“I’ve got Sophie set up with the tumor guys. She’ll be started on adjuvant chemotherapy, probably Herceptin. I think she’ll be fine.”

He smiled, something his friends had seen him do less often since the kids had grown up.

“Come on, guys, it’s getting near lunch and I’m hungry after all that driving.”

Edison patted his stomach and looked expectantly at his wife.

“I know just what would go well right now,” Sandy interjected.

“What?” Edison asked.

“Steak and mushrooms.”

“Not sure it’s in the larder,” Nancy said, “but I’ll see what I can do.

A half-hour later, the four geriatrics sat in the dining room. Another day of their lives was half over.

Click your heels together three times and from the bottom of your heart say ‘there's no place like home, there's no place like home...'

—Glinda, the Good Witch of the North

The Wizard of Oz

 

DOROTHY

I'm so alone. I'd give anything to be back home
.

She stared at the blank TV screen. The movie had ended but she couldn't stop crying.

Where are my ruby red slippers?

Carmelita Hidalgo, Ph.D., professor of linguistics, was sitting on the edge of the bed in her campus guestroom. Always restless in a strange place, she had been passing the early morning watching a Hollywood classic. This would be the last day of the conference she was attending at Fordham University. It was October 3rd and the weather in Manhattan was unseasonably warm.

Why did Mike have to stay in California?

Her Greek god seemed perpetually tied up with that satellite telecom job.

What will he do when we're married?

Maybe, I shouldn't marry him. Oh, God, I'm so confused!

She stood up, checked her makeup in the wall mirror, and exited. She walked quickly toward the Lowenstein Building conference center and entered the spacious meeting hall.

The brightly-lit room was filled to capacity, standing room only. She didn't think that many linguists existed.

She found the crush of humanity a bit intimidating so she retreated to a hallway outside, found a cushioned bench, and sat down. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes, trying to regain her emotional balance.

“May I sit here, young lady?”

She looked up at the elderly man and saw the map of Eastern Europe etched in his features—the high cheekbones, prominent nose and penetrating dark eyes. No doubt his ancestors had crossed the Urals centuries before.

“Uh … yes, of course.”

Strange, he reminds me of Tio Galen, thinner but not haggard or tired
.

She glimpsed his name tag as he settled beside her, one carefully printed word: RUDY.

“So, you're the famous wunderkind Dr. Hidalgo,” he said, staring at her tag with bright eyes. “I've looked forward to meeting you. Brilliant paper you presented on discordance in phoneme usage.”

“I'm at a disadvantage … Rudy. I don't know your last name.”

“Magyar, but please call me Rudy.”

The name brought immediate recognition. He was famous within the field, His research, in Eastern European languages as well as the history and politics of the old Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, was considered seminal. As a student he had predicted how and when the Soviet empire would collapse, almost 40 years before it happened.

“My apologies, Dr. Magyar, I should have recognized you. Your books were required reading in my classes at Yale.”

He laughed, and she was struck by his vitality. Despite his age he seemed in perfect health.

“Ah, young doctor, I have no doubt your career will outshine mine. Tell me, you're obviously of Cuban descent—you still carry the inflections and tonalities—where are you from now?”

He was so open, so friendly. She desperately needed to talk with someone. She told him about herself and her two brothers, their rescue and adoption by the three old ones, their growing up on a mountaintop in Pennsylvania.

“Tio Eddie and Tio Galen even named our mountain home. We call it Safehaven.”

The old man's bright eyes widened.

“Galen? That isn't a common name. Is your tio from Turkey or Greece?”

“No, his family was Italian. He was born here, grew up in New Jersey.”

He smiled. Something she said had given him obvious pleasure.

“Ms. Hidalgo, would you do me a favor? When you go back home, tell your Tio Galen that the Reindeer asked about the Bear.”

“Why certainly, Dr. Mag … Rudy. Are you sure you wouldn't like to call? I could dial him up on my cell right now.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn't want to startle him.”

“Just tell him this.”

He leaned close to her and whispered in her ear.

“And be sure to say it's from ‘Reindeer.'”

She looked into his eyes, and something about his countenance touched her so deeply that she shivered reflexively.

“Yes, Rudy, I will.”

 

As she left the conference later that evening, the old professor's words, the ones he had spoken twice, echoed in her mind: “When you go back home…”

Yes, I'll do it. Let it be a surprise!

She flew to Los Angeles. He was waiting for her at the airport. As they embraced she saw herself reflected in the wonderment of his eyes.

He does love me! Now to convince Mikhail Dimitriades that we're going to spend the holidays in Pennsylvania. We're going home, Toto!

She melted as he kissed her and wrapped her in his arms.

 

THE SCARECROW

“Hey, girl, who've we got in the cage this month?”

Latisha Cabell was head ER charge nurse at the giant medical complex in the heart of Richmond, Virginia. She ruled her ER roost with an iron fist—velvet-gloved but iron nonetheless. Things had to run smoothly. If they didn't, patients would get backed up, or worse, die before being helped.

It was all too easy to become cynical here, dealing with people in the worst possible shape—physically, mentally, or both. She had to be sure that “her” doctors, students and residents could cut it in the pressure cooker atmosphere.

Rona Balto, the unit secretary, had worked at the hospital almost as long as Latisha. They got along well and had developed a natural rhythm to keep the patients flowing through the inner-city emergency room at a decent pace.

“We got the A team again, girl, all four. Let's see ... um ... that hunk, Tony Hidalgo and his squeeze, the Knowlton girl. And we got Petrie and Hicks. I think there's something goin' on there, too. I saw a hickey on Petrie's neck last night.”

Both women giggled.

“A Hicks hickey?”

The two middle-aged ladies almost choked laughing then exchanged knowing glances. The stories they could tell about the young ones they'd shepherded would curl toes.

“It's almost 6 o'clock. The witching hour will start soon with the traffic accidents and go downhill from there. Make sure the kids have their data input tablets on full charge. All the computer carrels on line?”

Technology had greatly changed but not necessarily enhanced how things were done. No longer did the staff need to fill out endless paper forms and entry sheets. Now they checked off endless touchscreens that often froze or wouldn't advance to the proper next page.

The world of paperless healthcare records was still tinged with imperfection.

Rona tapped the stack of wireless input tablets.

“All set to go, Tish.”

“Then let the games begin.”

The old RN laughed as she walked through the swinging doors to the ER bays.

 

“Ever think we'd make it this far, Tony?”

“Sure thing, JP. Sarah and Judy and I have brains and looks and you have ... uh ... help me with this, ladies.”

“Cut it out, you two,” Judy said. “Doesn't matter how many times I've done this, I still get butterflies when I go on duty.”

Her cheeks flushed.

“She's right, Tony,” Sarah added. “We're all nervous on this rotation.”

She patted Judy on the shoulder.

“Guess they found out how we hide our tension, roomie.”

Julius Petrie fingered the ear pieces of his stethoscope.

Antonio Hidalgo eyed his three amigos who had been walking with him through the valley of medical school training from that first day of orientation. They had all aged a bit more than their cohorts in other fields of endeavor. They displayed a look of fatigue in their ever-ranging eyes, seeing, feeling, and hearing the misery of those who now and in the future would rely on their judgment.

He saw his own image in the mirrored-glass door ahead of them: a young Tio Galen staring back.

“Okay, ladies and gents, we've got incoming.”

The first year resident, even more tired, hustled down the corridor in a classic rendition of the hospital walk, fleeing invisible demons behind him.

“Hicks, Bay 2; kid with belly pain. Petrie, Bay 5; bicycle accident. Knowlton, Bay 3; lady with chest pain.”

He looked at Antonio.

“Hidalgo, Bay 11.”

“What's mine, Pete?”

Peter Albrecht, doctor in title for only five months, looked up at the tall senior medical student and grimaced.

“Lotsa luck, kid.”

The other three shot looks at Tony then averted their eyes and moved off. They knew that Bay 11 was the special bay, the only one with a one-way lock on the outside of the door.

Damn, a psych patient, just what I need to start the evening
.

“Hidalgo.”

“Yeah, Pete?”

“This one's real important. Don't prejudge. That's all I'll say.”

He felt the fear baby belly kick, the visceral tremor he experienced every time he went on duty. Didn't make any difference whether it was the wards, clinic, OR or ER. He knew from brief prior encounters that an injured soul would take more out of him than an injured body. He could feel the flop-sweat tension rising.

What was it that brought out the nocturnal mind beasts?

Every evening some would experience that Dorian Gray-like reflection in the mirror of their soul. Others saw only the darkness of despair. Young as he was, Antonio knew those feelings. He could never forget the agonal breaths of his first love, the dying Betty Orth. It had taken four years to get past that crushing grief. Now it was a vacancy in the heart that Sarah did her best to fill.

He reached for the doorknob and felt his sweat-coated palm slip on the satin-finished stainless steel. He tightened his grip and pulled the door open. He took a deep breath.

“Hello, I'm Dr. Hidalgo. How can I…?”

He spotted the heavyset, bearded young man sitting on the floor in the corner, shivers coursing periodically through his tall, lanky body, his shirt, shoes and belt missing. Fair skinned with straw-red hair, the patient was only a few years older than Tonio. A shock of recognition ran through both.

“Ryan, what the hell's wrong?”

He crouched down beside the fetally curled man and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Ryan, come sit with me.”

Slowly, Ryan Johnson rose and allowed himself to be seated in one of the two swivel back chairs. They were bolted to the floor.

Yes, Tony knew him. Ryan was an up-and-coming assistant professor of psychology, one of the legions of specially trained talk therapists who assisted the psychiatrists with the ever-growing population of the disaffected.

What had caused him to disintegrate?

Ryan stared at him with hollow eyes.

“Glad it's you, Tony. You'll understand.”

Several times the two had talked after they had met at a Q&A class session when the young medical student was rotating through the mandatory psych training.

“I'll try. Tell me what happened.”

Johnson shook his head from side to side, his arms braced across his chest as he rocked back and forth.

“Tell me, Ryan.”

“I killed a man today.”

 

It had started out routine, one of those random days of mechanical activity. Paperwork, phone calls, brief talk sessions with worried well patients, and follow-up meetings with long-term cases had carried him through the early afternoon of that sunny, late-autumn day.

Nothing unusual; he would leave early and meet his wife for dinner at the Pancake House.

“Johnson, I've got a family emergency. My kid fell off his bike. Probably needs stitches. Would you do the preliminary intake screen on this new guy? Thanks.”

His chief breezed in and out of his office before he had a chance to react.

Crap! I knew it was going too smoothly. Okay, let's see what this one's about
.

He scanned the phone screen's new patient encounter app.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Marital problems. Another man in the picture.

Whoa, what's this? The other guy's a stalker personality. The wife says she doesn't even know him. Hell, this is a police matter, not something the shrinks need to handle … yet
.

He thought more about it.

Maybe he feels inadequate in his marriage. Might need some shoring up.

He rose from his desk.

Damn, too much sitting! You're getting creaky, Ryan … fatter. Well, you couldn't keep that football-player physique forever
.