Toxin (4 page)

“Yeah, well, let me tell you what else happened,” Gertrude said. “One of the AmeriCare administrators came to see me, and he told me that AmeriCare wasn't going to pay for my husband's first day in the hospital. They said he was supposed to be admitted this morning on the day of surgery and not the day before. What do you say to that?”

“This is an ongoing problem I'm having with the administration,” Kim said. “When someone is as sick as your husband was before his surgery, I could not in good conscience allow him to be admitted the day of surgery.”

“Well, they said they weren't going to pay,” Gertrude said. “And we can't pay.”

“If AmeriCare persists, then I'll pay,” Kim said.

Gertrude's mouth dropped open. “You will?”

“It's come up before and I've paid before,” Kim said. “Now, about your husband. Soon he'll be in recovery. They'll keep him there until he's stable, and then he'll go to the Cardiac floor. You'll be able to see him then.”

Kim turned and walked from the room, pretending not to hear Mrs. Arnold calling his name.

Retreating back up the hall, Kim entered the surgical lounge. It was occupied by a handful of OR nurses on their breaks and a few of the staff anesthesiologists and anesthetists. Kim nodded to those people he recognized. Having been working at the University Medical Center only since the merger six months previously, Kim didn't know all the staff, particularly the evening and night people.

Pushing through the door into the men's surgical
locker room, Kim pulled off his scrub top and threw it forcibly into the hamper. He then sat on the bench in front of the bank of lockers to unpin his watch from the waistband of the pants. Tom, who'd taken a shower, was busy putting on his shirt.

“It used to be when I finished a case I felt a certain euphoria,” Kim commented. “Now I feel a vague, unpleasant anxiety.”

“I know the feeling,” Tom said.

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” Kim said. “This all used to be a lot more fun.”

Tom turned from facing the mirror and chuckled. “Excuse me for laughing, but you say that as if it were a sudden revelation.”

“I'm not talking about the economics,” Kim said. “I'm talking about the little things, like getting respect from the staff and appreciation from patients. Nowadays you can't take anything for granted.”

“Times are a-changing,” Tom agreed. “Especially with managed care and the government teamed up to make us specialists miserable. Sometimes I fantasize about one of the responsible bureaucrats coming to me for a bypass, and I make him get it from a general practitioner.”

Kim stood up and pulled off his scrub pants. “The sad irony is that all this is happening when we cardiac surgeons have the most to offer the public.”

Kim was about to toss his pants into the hamper by the door, when the door opened and one of the women anesthesiologists, Dr. Jane Flanagan, stuck her head in. Catching sight of Kim's skivvy-clad body, she whistled.

“You came mighty close to having these sweat-soaked pants draped over your noggin,” Kim warned.

“For such a view it would have been worth it,” Jane
joked. “Anyway, I'm here to inform you that your public awaits you out here in the lounge.”

The door closed and Jane's perky face disappeared.

Kim looked at Tom. “Public? What the hell is she talking about?”

“My guess is you have a visitor,” Tom said. “And the fact that no one has come in here leads me to believe it must be female.”

Kim stepped over to the cubbyholes filled with scrub tops and bottoms and took a clean set. “What now?” he questioned irritably.

At the door Kim paused. “If this is Mrs. Arnold, the wife of my last case, I'm going to scream.”

Kim pushed out into the lounge. Instantly he saw it wasn't Gertrude Arnold. Instead, Kelly Anderson was at the coffee urn, helping herself to a cup. A few steps behind her was her cameraman with a camcorder balanced on his right shoulder.

“Ah, Dr. Reggis,” Kelly exclaimed, catching sight of the surprised and none-too-pleased Kim. “How good of you to come to talk with us.”

“How the hell did you get in here?” Kim asked with indignation. “And how did you know I was here?” The surgical lounge was like a sanctuary that even nonsurgical doctors were hesitant to violate. For Kim the idea of being confronted by anyone here, much less Kelly Anderson, was too much to bear.

“Brian and I knew you were here thanks to your former wife,” Kelly said. “As for how we got up here, I'm happy to say we were invited and even escorted by Mr. Lindsey Noyes.” Kelly gestured toward a gray-suited gentleman standing in the doorway to the hall who'd hesitated to come in himself. “He's from the AmeriCare–University Med Center PR department.”

“Evening, Dr. Reggis,” Lindsey said nervously. “We just need a moment of your time. Miss Anderson has graciously decided to do a story commemorating the six-month anniversary of our hospital merger. Of course, we'd like to assist her in any way we can.”

For a moment Kim's dark eyes darted back and forth between Kelly and Lindsey. On the spur of the moment he wasn't certain who irritated him more, the muckraking journalist or the meddlesome administrator. Ultimately he decided he didn't care. “If you want to help her, then you talk to her,” Kim said before turning to go back into the locker room.

“Dr. Reggis, wait!” Kelly blurted. “I've already heard the prepared AmeriCare side. We're interested in your personal view, from the trenches, so to speak.”

With the locker-room door open a crack, Kim paused and debated. He looked back at Kelly Anderson. “After that piece you did on cardiac surgery, I vowed never to talk to you again.”

“And why is that?” Kelly said. “It was an interview. I didn't put words in your mouth.”

“You quoted me out of context by editing your questions,” Kim fumed. “And you left out most of the issues I said were of primary importance.”

“We always edit our interviews,” Kelly said. “It's a fact of life.”

“Find another victim,” Kim said.

Kim pushed open the locker-room door and had taken a step within, when Kelly called out again: “Dr. Reggis! Just answer one question. Has the merger been as good for the community as AmeriCare contends? They say they did it for purely altruistic reasons. They insist it's the best thing that's happened to medical care in this city since the discovery of penicillin.”

Kim hesitated again. The absurdity of such a comment made it impossible for him not to respond. Once again he turned back to Kelly. “I have trouble understanding how anyone could say such a ludicrous statement and have a conscience clear enough to sleep at night. The truth is that the entire rationale for the merger was to benefit AmeriCare's bottom line. Anything else they may tell you is rationalization and pure bull.”

The door closed behind Kim. Kelly looked at Brian. Brian smiled and gave Kelly the thumbs-up sign. “I got it,” Brian said.

Kelly smiled back. “Perfect! That was just what the doctor ordered.”

Lindsey coughed politely into a closed fist. “Obviously,” he said, “Dr. Reggis has given his personal view, which I can assure you is not shared by other members of the professional staff.”

“Oh really?” Kelly questioned. She let her eyes roam the room. “Anybody here wish to make a comment concerning Dr. Reggis's statement?”

For a moment no one moved.

“Pro or con?” Kelly prodded.

Still no one moved. In the sudden silence, the hospital page could be heard like the backdrop of a TV melodrama.

“Well,” Kelly said brightly, “thank you all for your time.”

 

T
om slipped on his long white hospital coat and arranged the collection of pens, pencils, and flashlight in its upper front pocket. Kim had come into the locker room and, after removing his clothes and throwing them into the hamper, had gotten into the shower. He'd not said a word.

“Aren't you going to tell me who was out there?” Tom said.

“It was Kelly Anderson from WENE News,” Kim said from the shower.

“In our surgical lounge?” Tom questioned.

“Can you believe it?” Kim said. “She was dragged up here by one of the AmeriCare admin guys. Apparently my ex told her where to find me.”

“I hope you told her what you thought of that piece she did on cardiac surgery,” Tom said. “After my car mechanic saw it, I swear he raised his rates. I mean talk about backwards; my income's plummeting and service people are upping their charges.”

“I said as little as I could,” Kim said.

“Hey, what time were you supposed to pick up Becky?” Tom asked.

“Six o'clock,” Kim said. “What time is it now?”

“You'd better get a move on,” Tom said. “It's already heading toward six-thirty.”

“Damn,” Kim said. “I haven't even done my rounds yet. What a life!”

Friday, January 16
th

B
y the time Kim did his rounds and checked Mr. Arnold in the recovery room, another hour had passed. En route to his former wife's house in the University section of town, he pushed his ten-year-old Mercedes and made record time. But it was still going on eight when he pulled up behind a yellow Lamborghini directly in front of Tracy's house.

Leaping from the car, Kim jogged up the front walk. The house was a modest affair built around the birth of the twentieth century, with a few Victorian gothic touches, like pointed arch windows in the second-floor dormers. Kim took the front steps in twos to reach the columned porch, where he rang the bell. His breath steamed in the wintery chill. While he waited he fanned his arms to keep warm. He wasn't wearing a coat.

Tracy opened the door and immediately put her hands on her hips. She was plainly anxious and irritated. “Kim,
it's almost eight. You said you'd be here by six at the latest.”

“Sorry,” Kim said. “It was unavoidable. The second case took longer than anticipated. We ran into an unexpected problem.”

“I suppose I should be used to this by now,” Tracy said. She stepped out of the way and motioned for Kim to step inside. She closed the door behind him.

Kim glanced into the living room and saw a smart, casually dressed, mid-forties man in a suede fringe jacket and ostrich cowboy boots. He was sitting on the couch, with a drink in one hand and a cowboy hat in the other.

“I would have fed Becky if I'd had any idea it was going to be this late,” Tracy said. “She's starved.”

“That's easy to remedy,” Kim said. “I mean, we are planning on going out to dinner.”

“I wish you would have at least called,” Tracy said.

“I was in surgery and didn't get out until five-thirty,” Kim said. “It's not like I was out golfing.”

“I know,” Tracy said with resignation. “It's all very noble. The problem is, you were the one who picked the time, not me. It's a matter of consideration. Every second I thought you were about to arrive. Luckily we're not flying commercial.”

“Flying?” Kim questioned. “Where are you going?”

“Aspen,” Tracy said. “I've given Becky the number where I can be reached.”

“Aspen for two days?”

“I feel it's time for me to have a little fun in my life. Not that you would know what that is, apart from your surgery, of course.”

“Well, as long as we're being nasty and sarcastic,”
Kim said, “thanks for sending Kelly Anderson to the surgical lounge. That was a pleasant surprise!”

“I didn't send her,” Tracy said.

“She said you did.”

“I just told her I thought you were in surgery,” Tracy said.

“Well, it's the same thing,” Kim said.

Over Kim's shoulder, Tracy saw her guest stand up. Sensing he was uncomfortable from undoubtedly overhearing her exchange with her former husband, Tracy motioned to Kim to follow her into the living room.

“Enough of this bickering,” she said. “Kim, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, Carl Stahl.”

The two men shook hands and eyed each other warily.

“You two entertain yourselves,” Tracy suggested. “I'll run upstairs and make sure Becky has everything she needs. Then we can all go our separate ways.”

Kim watched Tracy disappear up the stairs. Then his gaze returned to Tracy's apparent boyfriend. It was an uncomfortable situation, and Kim couldn't help feel some jealousy, but at least Carl was several inches shorter, with significantly thinning hair. On the other hand, the man was tanned despite its being mid-winter. He also appeared in reasonable physical shape.

“Can I get you a drink?” Carl suggested, motioning toward a bottle of bourbon on a side table.

“Don't mind if I do,” Kim said. Kim had never been much of a drinker, although over the last six months a nightly cocktail had become a habit.

Carl put down his cowboy hat and stepped over to the sideboard. Kim noticed he seemed to have a proprietary manner.

“I saw that interview Kelly Anderson did with you a
month or so ago,” Carl said as he shoveled several ice cubes into an old-fashioned glass.

“I'm sorry,” Kim said. “I was hoping most people missed it.”

Carl splashed a generous dollop of liquor over the ice and then handed the drink to Kim. He sat back down on the couch next to his cowboy hat. Kim lowered himself into a facing club chair.

“You have a right to be angry about it,” Carl said condescendingly. “It wasn't fair. TV news has an irritating way of twisting things.”

“Sad, but true,” Kim agreed. He took a sip of the fiery fluid and inhaled before swallowing. He felt a comfortable warm feeling course through his body.

“I certainly didn't buy her premise,” Carl said. “You guys earn every penny you get. I mean, I personally have a lot of respect for you doctors.”

“Thank you,” Kim said. “That's very reassuring.”

“Seriously,” Carl said. “In fact I was premed for a couple of semesters in college.”

“Really? What happened? Didn't you like it?”

“It didn't like me,” Carl said with a laugh that ended with a peculiar snorting sound. “It was a wee bit too demanding, and it began to cut into my social life.” Carl laughed again as if he'd just told a joke.

Kim began to wonder what Tracy saw in the guy.

“What do you do?” Kim asked to make conversation. Besides, he was interested. Considering the lower-mid-dle-class neighborhood, the yellow Lamborghini outside had to belong to Carl. Plus there was Tracy's comment about not flying commercial. That was even more worrisome.

“I'm CEO of Foodsmart,” Carl said. “I'm sure you've heard of us.”

“I can't say that I have,” Kim said.

“It's a large agricultural business,” Carl said. “Really more of a holding company. One of the largest in the state, actually.”

“Wholesale or retail?” Kim asked, not that he knew much about business.

“Both,” Carl said. “But mainly export wholesale involving grain and beef. But we're also the major stockholder in the Onion Ring burger chain.”

“I've heard of them,” Kim said. “I even own some stock.”

“Good choice,” Carl said. Then he leaned forward, and after furtively looking around as if he thought there were a chance of hidden eavesdroppers, he whispered: “Buy some more Onion Ring stock. The company's about to take the chain national. Consider it an insider tip. Just don't tell anyone where you heard it.”

“Thanks,” Kim said. Then he added sarcastically: “I've been wondering what to do with all my discretionary income.”

“You'll be thanking me a thousandfold,” Carl added, insensitive to Kim's tone of voice. “The stock is going to go through the roof. In a year's time the Onion Ring will be out there challenging McDonald's, Burger King, and Wendy's.”

“Tracy mentioned you two are flying to Aspen on a private plane,” Kim said, changing the subject. “What do you fly?”

“Me personally?” Carl questioned. “I don't fly. Hell, no! I'd be the last person to get into a plane with me behind the controls.”

Carl laughed again with his peculiar style, making Kim wonder if the guy snored when he slept.

“I've a new Lear jet,” Carl added. “Well, technically
it's Foodsmart's, at least according to the IRS. Anyway, as you undoubtedly know, for such an aircraft the FAA mandates we have two highly qualified pilots.”

“Of course,” Kim said as if he were intimately aware of the rule. The last thing he wanted to do was reveal his ignorance of such things. Nor did he want to let on how angry it made him feel that a businessman who did nothing but shuffle paper could have such perks while he, who worked twelve hours a day on people's hearts, was having trouble keeping his decade-old Mercedes on the road.

A clatter of footfalls on the uncarpeted stairs heralded Becky's arrival. She had an overnight bag and her skates thrown over her shoulder. She dumped both onto a chair in the front hall before racing into the living room.

Kim hadn't seen Becky since the previous Sunday when they'd spent a happy day at a nearby ski area, and Becky acted accordingly. She made a beeline into Kim's arms and gave him an enthusiastic hug, momentarily making him lose his balance. With his face pressed up against her head, Kim could feel that her brunette hair was damp from a recent shower. The remnant odor of the shampoo made her smell like an apple orchard in bloom.

Without letting go of Kim, Becky leaned back and assumed a mock reproving expression. “You're late, Daddy.”

Kim's aggravations of the day melted as he regarded his darling, precocious ten-year-old daughter who, in his mind, glowed with grace, youth, and energy. Her skin was flawless, her eyes large and expressive.

“I'm sorry, pumpkin,” Kim said. “I understand you're hungry.”

“I'm starved,” Becky said. “But look!”

Becky turned her head from side to side. “See my new
diamond earrings? Aren't they gorgeous? Carl gave them to me.”

“Just chips,” Carl said self-consciously. “Sort'a late Christmas present, and something for letting me borrow her mom for the weekend.”

Kim swallowed. He was taken aback. “Very impressive,” he managed.

Becky let go of Kim and went out into the foyer to gather her things and get her coat out of the front closet. Kim followed and went to the door.

“Now, I want you in bed at your normal time, young lady,” Tracy said. “You understand? The flu's making the rounds.”

“Oh, Mom!” Becky complained.

“I'm serious,” Tracy said. “I don't want you missing school.”

“Chill out, Mom,” Becky said. “You have fun and don't be so nervous about . . .”

“I'll have a great time,” Tracy said, interrupting her daughter before she could say something embarrassing. “But I'll have a better time if I don't have to worry about you. You have the phone number I gave you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Becky intoned. Then, brightening, she added: “Ski the Big Burn for me.”

“Okay, I promise,” Tracy said, as she took Becky's coat from her daughter's arms. “I want this on.”

“But we'll be in the car,” Becky complained.

“I don't care,” Tracy said, helping her daughter into the coat.

Becky ran to Carl, who was standing in the doorway to the living room. She gave him a hug and got her mouth close to his ear. “She's real nervous, but she'll be okay. And thanks for the earrings. I love them.”

“You're welcome, Becky,” Carl said nonplussed.

Becky ran to Tracy and gave her a quick hug before dashing out the door held open by Kim.

Outside Becky ran down the stairs and waved to Kim to hurry up. Kim broke into a trot.

“Call if there's a problem,” Tracy yelled from the porch.

Kim and Becky waved as they got into Kim's car.

“She's such a worrywart,” Becky said, as Kim started the car. Then she pointed ahead, through the windshield. “That's a Lamborghini. It's Carl's car, and it's awesome.”

“I'm sure it is,” Kim said, trying not to sound as if he cared.

“You should get one, Dad,” Becky said. She turned her head to look at the vehicle as they drove by.

“Let's talk about food,” Kim said. “I was planning on picking up Ginger. I thought all three of us could go to Chez Jean.”

“I don't want to eat with Ginger,” Becky said poutingly.

Kim drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The stress of the day at the hospital, even the meeting with Carl, had him on edge. He wished he'd had time to play some tennis. He needed some form of physical outlet. The last thing he wanted was a problem between Becky and Ginger.

“Becky,” Kim began. “We've been through this before. Ginger likes your company.”

“I just want to be with you, not your receptionist,” Becky complained.

“But you will be with me,” Kim said. “We'll all be together. And Ginger is more than my receptionist.”

“I don't want to eat at that stuffy old restaurant either,” Becky said with emotion. “I hate it.”

“Okay, okay,” Kim said, struggling to control himself. “How about we go to the Onion Ring on Prairie Highway. Just you and me. It's just up the road.”

“Fabulous!” Becky perked up, and despite her seat belt, she managed to lean over and give Kim a peck on the cheek.

Kim marveled at how adroitly his daughter could manipulate him. He felt better now that she had reverted to her normal, vivacious self, but after a few miles Becky's comment began to gnaw at him again. “For the life of me,” Kim said, “I don't understand why you have this thing against Ginger.”