Paul McKellips - Jericho 3

“How about the commanding general? It’s his base. Nothing gets on, nothing gets off, unless he knows about it,” Finn added.

“What about some grunts and medics, regular Afghan Joes that work around the hospital?”

“Captain Campbell, our Army medic team is doing trauma and triage training drills with their Afghan counterparts next Tuesday morning. Might be a good time to ask some questions,” Captain Henry said.

Miriam stepped up and changed the direction of the conversation.

“Excuse me, Captain Henry, I just want to remind you that I delayed my leave. I go home this weekend. I have not seen my son in almost two months.”

“I’m tracking, Miriam. Three days, right?”

“Yes, sir, I will be at the Thunder checkpoint Tuesday morning and ready to work during the drills.”

University Hospital, Clinic and Research Center

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Sea Bee Campbell, his wife Ruth, and Lieutenant Colonel Leslie Raines occupied three seats in the expansive yet elegant waiting room. Leslie held Ruth’s hand as Sea Bee stared at the BMW advertisement in his US News & World Report magazine.

“Planning to buy a new car Seabury?” Ruth asked.

He didn’t answer, nor did he turn the page.

“Have you heard from my son?”

“He Skyped me from the USO in Bagram, but that was a couple of weeks ago,” Raines said.

“Do you miss him?”

“Oh, maybe a bit,” Raines said with a smile.

Sea Bee just glared at the BMW.

“You like him,” Ruth said contently as she looked around the room at the other patients.

The office door opened and a nurse called for Seabury Campbell. Ruth took the magazine out of Seabury’s hand and the three of them stood up. The nurse led them to Exam Room #3. The room was large and included the exam table, the doctor’s desk, two leather patient chairs, a magazine rack and a coat rack. The walls were littered with diplomas, advanced degrees, board certifications and awards.

“Dr. Blauw will be with you shortly.”

Raines stood while Ruth and Seabury took the two seats.

“Look at all of these degrees, Seabury.”

Sea Bee looked at the walls and suddenly seemed engaged. He got up and started to read the inscriptions.

“Pieter J. Blauw, Bachelors of Science, Biology, University of Leipzig; Pieter J. Blauw, MD, Boston University; board certified in neurology and psychiatry? This guy’s a shrink?” Seabury said.

“He’s a geriatric psychiatrist and neurologist Mr. Campbell. My colleague said he is the best of the best,” Raines said trying to defend the credentials of a man whom she had never met.

“Best at what?”

“Honey, Leslie says he’s a professor, the director of the hospital’s memory center and the associate director of the Alzheimer’s Disease Center,” Ruth summarized.

The exam room door opened, and Dr. Blauw extended his hand to greet all parties. Though he had earned his advanced degrees in the states, he still couldn’t hide his German accent.

“You’re German!” Sea Bee said dismissively.

Blauw gazed quickly at his wall of fame.

“Born and raised in Hamburg, medical degree in Boston, residency at Columbia Presbyterian in New York, a fellowship in Behavioral Neurology and Cognitive Neuroscience in the Netherlands, now I cheer for the Eagles and Flyers in Philadelphia,” Blauw said.

“Did you hear that, Seabury, said he’s a Presbyterian,” Ruth emphasized with assurance.

“Well, actually,” Blauw started, but decided it was better to just let it go. “Mr. Campbell, why are you here today?”

“My wife thinks I’m nuts!”

“Do you think you’re nuts?”

There was a long pause. “I’m not as sharp as I used to be.”

“In what ways?”

“I can’t find the words I used to know… I can’t find the doors I once walked through… and I’m not real sure what to do when I finally find those doors.”

“Does that bother you?”

“That’s a pretty stupid question for such a smart Presbyterian with a bunch of fancy degrees on his wall… Of course it bothers me.”

“Seabury!” Ruth interrupted. “Mind your manners.”

Dr. Blauw raised his hands in a calming manner. “No, that was a fair response. In fact, the fire in your belly is helpful. We can use that. There’s nothing I’ve seen in your medical records over the last 40 years or in just a few minutes of talking with you that would suggest we’re dealing with a severe mental illness.”

“Well then we’re in good shape, Dr. Blauw, because my husband has an endless supply of piss, fire and vinegar!”

“Mr. Campbell, let me explain what I do from the 30,000-foot level, then I’ll bring it back to what I want to do with you.”

“Now he wants to drop me out of an airplane.”

“Not exactly. I both see patients — as a doctor — and I also conduct research on the diseases I treat in a laboratory, as a scientist. I’m a clinician, and I’m a researcher. When I’m not seeing patients like you, then I work in my lab with mice and other animals that have been genetically bred to have the same diseases people develop. In the clinic, I treat patients who mostly have neurodegenerative diseases; those are fancy words for diseases that usually attack us when we get older. In the laboratory, I focus on cellular and molecular neuropathology and the clinical biomarkers in aging.”

“So what have I got, Doc? Harry Tasner said it was hardening of the arteries. Do you think I have Alzheimer’s?”

“AD, Alzheimer’s disease, is hard to diagnose; it’s more of a judgment first, then followed by some specific tests that would confirm if you have AD. Your family doctor has taken great care of you for many years. But now you’re suffering a little bit of dementia. I need to figure out if that’s due to Alzheimer’s or something else.”

“What kind of tests can you do, Dr. Blauw?” Ruth asked.

“Today we’ll do a complete physical exam to check Mr. Campbell’s overall neurological health. Reflexes, muscle tone and strength, ability to get out of a chair and walk across the room, sense of touch and sight, coordination and balance.”

“But you ain’t gonna check my nuts to see if I’m nuts, are you?”

“Seabury!” Ruth scolded.

Blauw laughed. “It’s okay, Mrs. Campbell. I can assure you that it’s nothing compared to surgeon talk in an operating room. No, you should still see your family doctor for all your annual physicals. My nurse will draw some blood so we can rule out thyroid disorders or vitamin deficiencies. If you’re okay with all that, then I’d like to get started with a 10-minute ‘mental status test.’ Colonel Raines, you’re welcome to stay for the mental test but only family members during the physical portion.”

“She’s our daughter-in-law,” Ruth blurted out before Raines could speak. “She is family.”

“Look who’s nuts now, woman!” Seabury quipped.

“I understand, Dr. Blauw,” Raines answered amid subtle embarrassment.

“Okay, this should take 10 minutes. You can use the clipboard for the written answers. Are you ready?”

Sea Bee nodded.

“Number one; draw the face of a clock with the hands showing four-thirty.”

Sea Bee looked over at Ruth and rolled his eyes.

“Two, what’s today’s date, and where are you right now?”

Sea Bee answered but couldn’t hide his contempt. Blauw held up a laminated sheet of paper with a picture on it.

“Three, here is a picture of two pentagon shapes intersecting. On your paper draw the same thing, or as close as you can come.”

Sea Bee looked at the picture and reproduced it on his clipboard.