Diana Orgain - Bundle of Trouble

I reflected on KelliAnn’s address. She lived in the building on Haight Street I’d first followed Galigani to. I thought he’d gone to see Jennifer in Apartment 303, but I was wrong. He had been going there to see KelliAnn. Was it a coincidence that hippie chick Jennifer had worked at El Paraiso?

Laurie stirred next to me, stretching her arms over her head like a kitten. I nuzzled her and she settled back to sleep.

My thoughts returned to Michelle. If she had been poisoned, could Galigani have been poisoned, too? Had someone tried to kill him right in front of my house?

Who was Kiku?

The interview was in a couple days. Could I go in Galigani’s place?

When I awoke the next morning, the space next to me was cold and empty. I could hear water running in the shower. I peered over at Laurie in her bassinet. She was asleep for the moment.

I slipped out of bed and grabbed the phone. I dialed San Francisco General Hospital and inquired about Galigani. They told me that after he’d been stabilized, they’d transferred him to California Pacific Hospital.

They wouldn’t tell me anything more about his condition, since I wasn’t family.

I had to take Laurie to her one-month wellness appointment today. The pediatrician’s office was right next to California Pacific.

Perfect.

I’d stop by and see how Galigani was progressing.

I pulled my notebook out and wrote my to-do list for the day.

To-Do List:

1. Take Laurie to her one-month wellness appointment.

2. Visit Galigani in the hospital, find out what happened to him.

3. Find George.

4. Interview Kiku (bring own water!).

5. Call Winter Henderson re: hippie chick alibi.

6. Read the parenting book from library.

7. Find the parenting book from the library.

8. Oh yeah, diet, exercise, clean car, be good mom/ wife, cook, clean, and all that jazz.

I sat and sat in the waiting room. I really liked Laurie’s pediatrician, Dr. Clement, but I’d never waited so long for any doctor. Every visit to this office, I had waited at least forty-five minutes. Laurie had already been to the doctor three times in the first month. Twice the first week and once the second week.

At our first appointment, when Laurie was two days old, I had cried because she was losing weight. Dr. Clement told me that it was perfectly normal, but maternal hormones don’t listen to any doctor’s logic and tears had been shed.

Was Dr. Clement worth the wait?

I watched two children with running noses coo over Laurie.

How does one extract one’s baby from runny-nosed little children without seeming rude? I guess you can’t help it if you seem rude. After all, this is your newborn .

I pulled Laurie’s car seat bucket out of reach of the children. One scowled at me and screamed “Mama!” at the top of her lungs. Her mother glanced up from the fashion magazine in her lap, mumbled something, then continued to read.

Both children found solace in the fish tank in the corner.

As I looked at my watch for the millionth time, Laurie’s name was called.

I followed the nurse down a short hallway and into a freezing examination room. “Go ahead and undress her. Everything except the diaper,” she instructed.

“It’s an icebox in here.”

“It’ll only be for a second,” she snapped.

Maybe I should consider another doctor?

Dr. Clement flew into the room. She was short and stocky with huge hands. I’d liked her from the beginning, thinking she’d never drop a baby with such secure-looking hands.

She stretched Laurie out on the examination table and put little pencil marks at her head and feet, then scooped her into what looked like a fish scale. After balancing all the doo-dads on the scale, she wrapped a tape measure around Laurie’s head. She announced that Laurie was in the twenty-fifth percentile. Meaning that Laurie was “petite but perfectly healthy.”

Apparently, out of 100 babies Laurie’s age, 75 babies were bigger than she was. The doctor explained that Laurie was in proportion and gaining weight nicely, so not to worry. Easier said than done.

Dr. Clement was about to disappear, but then with her hand on the doorknob she turned and asked, “How’s tummy time going?”

“Tummy time?”

“I told you at the hospital that you have to put her on her tummy for at least an hour every day.”

Who remembers anything that happened a month ago?

“She’s not even awake for a full hour,” I said desperately.

“You have to do it in ten-minute increments. Ten minutes here, ten minutes there, it adds up.” She wagged a finger at me. “Remember, tummy time is going to give Laurie the skills she needs for rolling over, sitting, and crawling.”

I suddenly felt anxious. I was blowing it for Laurie! Could she already be behind at only four weeks old?

I nodded at Dr. Clement, who nodded back at me as she strode out the door.

I looked at my watch. All of two minutes had passed, most of it spent lecturing me. If she spent only two minutes with each patient, what in the world had she been doing when I’d been sitting in the waiting room for forty-five minutes?

Before Laurie was born, I spent a good deal of time interviewing pediatricians. I had liked Dr. Clement the best. She had taken her time during the process and had patiently explained the first steps I’d take with Laurie. Now I wondered if all the time I’d spent in her waiting room, she’d been recruiting new patients instead of tending to existing ones.

At least we didn’t have to come back for another month. It would be nice to have a month off from doctor’s visits. Except, of course, for my own. I still had to schedule that one. I knew I was avoiding it because I didn’t want to go back to work. I pulled out my to-do list and added “tummy time” and the ob-gyn appointment.

From the pediatrician’s office, I headed across the street to the hospital. I hated bringing Laurie into the hospital but rationalized that it wasn’t much different from Dr. Clement’s office.

I asked about Galigani at the front desk and was directed to the cardiology department.

Cardiology?

Not poisoned!

No one had tried to murder Galigani. Relief washed over me. Definitely reassuring, especially if I was going to consider poking my nose around some more in Brad’s affairs.

When Laurie and I arrived at his room, he was propped up in bed, connected to several flashing beeping monitors at his chest, oxygen tubes in his nose, and a remote in his hand. What is it with men and remotes? He was watching Fear Factor .

Ah. Daytime TV.

“What, no Days of our Lives ?” I asked, gently tapping on the room door.

Galigani’s face lit up. “Come in.”

He put the TV on mute ! I tried not to be offended. After all, if I wasn’t captivating enough, even during labor, for my own husband, I couldn’t expect a perfect stranger to turn the TV off.

I shuffled Laurie’s bucket onto a chair.

“Let me see her,” Galigani said.

I tilted the bucket up to show off a sleeping Laurie, who managed to pry one blue eye open and peer at Galigani.

“Adorable. Thank you. Makes me feel better to see such a sweet face.” He paused, taking inventory of the monitors around him. “Had a heart attack. They said the person who dialed 9-1-1 saved my life.” His eyes shone. “I think a ‘thank-you’ is in order.”

Laurie cooed and kicked as if to say, “You’re welcome.”

“They’re not going to release me quite yet. I have to have open heart surgery. Bypass. Not out of the woods yet.”