Michael Palmer - Flashback

"He doesn't have to speak, Mom. He just has to listen. Who sent the flowers?"

He motioned toward an enormous vase of lilies, orchids, and birds of paradise that he estimated must have cost one hundred fifty dollars — probably even more. "It just arrived from Frank, " she said. "Whether you know it or not, you owe your brother quite a thank-you. He was very helpful in keeping us all under control last night. Very helpful."

"I'll… I'll thank him just as soon as I can, Mom."

"I just don't know what we would have done without him."

She dabbed her handleerchief at the corner of one eye. "I understand,"

Zack said, fighting off a wave of rage. "I only wish Lisette were around. At least then I'd know he was getting a decent meal once in a while."

"He told you about Lisette?"

"He told me she and the girls are in Virginia visiting an old friend of hers, if that's what you mean."

"Sure, Mom, " Zack said through nearly clenched teeth. "That's what I meant."

At that moment, the private duty nurse, an expansive woman with pendulous upper arms and thick ankles, wheeled her cart from the room.

"He's all set, dear, " she said. "Sorry to take so long, but that husband of yours is a big man…" She eyed Zack warily. "Still no visitors, Doctor, " she said. "I'm sorry."

"Mom, I need to go in to talk to the Judge."

Cinnie took a moment to size up the exchange. "It's okay, Mrs. Caulkins,

" she said. "I'll take care of things here. You go do whatever it is you have to." She waited until the woman had gone. "Zachary, I'll ask your father if your visit would be okay, but I don't expect him to say yes."

"Mom, it's important-very important that I speak with him."

She hesitated. "Mom, please "You won't say anything to upset him? "

"Promise."

"Well, then, I suppose you should be allowed to go in there and say your piece."

"Mom, thank you."

"Arid Zachary? " She continued to work her handleerchief over and over in her hands. "I know you didn't mean things to turn out this way."

"That's right, Mom," he said, knowing that she would miss the understatement-the sad irony id his voice. "I certainly didn't."

Muted sunlight, filtering through the nearly closed blinds, provided the only illumination in the room. The Judge, wearing a blue hospital Johnny, Jay on his back, staring at the ceiling. An intravenous line was draining into one arm. "Hello! Judge, " Zack said. Clayton Iverson glanced over at him, and then looked away. "Are you in much pain?"

There was no response. "Judge, it won't hurt to talk to me. Believe me, it won't… Okay, okay, suit yourself."

It might have been a mistake to have come. Zack could see that now.

Merely going against the man's wishes was enough to warrant the silent treatment, let alone going against his wishes and achieving such disastrous results. He reminded himself that the Judge could be as petulant and inflexible as Frank. Zack turned to go, but then he stopped. There were things he had to get out-if not for his father, then for himself. "Okay, Judge, you don't have to say a word. I won't stay long. I just wanted to tell you that I feel very badly for the way things have turned out. I was only doing what I spent so many years training to do-using my judgment, and trying to do my best."

He pulled a chair over as he spoke, and sat down by his father's hand.

The Judge continued to stare at the ceiling. "Judgment, Dad… that's what you have to rely on, too, now that I think about it. Maybe in time, that will help you understand the dilemma I was in… "Judge, you're my father. I love you for that-for the things you've done for me, for the kind of person you've helped me become. I would never want to see you hurt. Never. I honestly believe that I would give up my life, if necessary, to protect you. But that's my life… "Anyhow, I guess what I really want you to know is that although I'm sorry as hell for the way everything turned out, given the information I had to work with last night, if the same situation arose again, I would make the same choices.

That's the sort of person my parents raised me to be, and the sort of surgeon I was trained to be. I came up here to ask for understanding, not absolution."

He paused, hoping for some sort of reply. There was none. In that moment, he decided to say nothing of what had transpired with Frank.

Soon, the Judge would learn it all anyhow, but this was not the time to attack the man's myth of his quarterback son. "Well, then, " he said. "I guess that's that." He rose. "Oh, except for one other thing. I'm going to that meeting today to present Guy's case to the board. I don't expect to sway many votes, but I think Guy was right. I think we need to take a hard look at what we're willing to give up in exchange for a few shiny pieces of equipment and some black ink on the bottom line. So if you could just talk to me enough to tell me where that folder of his is, I'll-"

"It's gone, " Clayton Iverson said flatly, still not looking at his son.

"What!"

"I said the folder is gone. I… I gave it to the Ultramed people to examine. They have it. Now please, go."

Zack sighed. "You certainly underwent one heck of a change of heart there, Dad, " he said. "I asked you to leave."

"I'm going. I'm going."

As he turned, Zack's hand brushed against the instruments in his pocket.

He hesitated, took several steps toward the door, and then turned back.

"Judge, I know you want me out of here, " he said, "but… but I'd like to examine a couple of things on you if I could before I go."

Tentatively, he returned to the bedside, waiting for the man's outburst.

There was none. He lifted the sheet off his father's legs. "Thank you, Dad, " he whispered, gauging the muscle tone of one calf with his fingertips. "Thank you for trusting me this much. This will only take a minute."

In fact, Zack's examination, carried out mostly with his touch and reflex hammer, took just over five minutes. Clayton Iverson watched him work in stony silence, although there was a spark of curiosity in his eyes. By the time Zack had finished, by the time he had dropped down on a corner of the bed, shaken and mentally drained, the loose-fitting pieces of the clinical puzzle had been pulled apart and rearranged in the strangest of patterns. "Mom, can you come in here, please?" he called out, after he had regained some composure. "There's something I want both of you to hear together."

Cinnie Iverson entered, took the chair next to the Judge, and held his hand. Zack paced from one side of the room to the other, choosing each word carefully, suddenly frightened that the tendon and muscle activity he had detected were not true neurologic indicators at all, but rather the phantoms of his own hopes. "Judge, Mom, " he began, "have either of you ever heard of a conversion reaction?"

Cinnie Iverson shook her head. Clayton did not move. "An older term for it was conversion hysteria, but I never liked that phrase, because hysteria implies craziness, and a conversion reaction is much more an intense, involuntary focusing of emotional energy than it is a sign of anything crazy."

"Zachary, what are you saying?

" Cinnie asked. "I'm saying that there are certain reflexes that disappear when the spinal cord is damaged, and others that show up. The pattern I'm finding now isn't consistent with that."

"I'm not sure I understand, " Cinnie said. "Judge, I know this may not make total sense to you at the moment, but I'm picking up signs-fairly strong signs-that your paralysis may be due to factors other than spinal cord damage-emotional factors."

"Emotional factors?"

Cinnie sounded incredulous. The Judge showed no reaction at all. "I know it sounds far out, " Zack said, "but believe me, it isn't. It happens all the time. One of my first cases on my neurology service was a man with psychologically induced blindness. There was absolutely nothing wrong with his eyes, yet he positively couldn't see. In fact, after hypnotherapy, much of his vision returned. "Heart attacks in Type A personalities, gastric ulcers in situations of high stress-our emotions have power over every organ in our bodies. There's even a well-documented condition called pseudocyesis in which a woman who desperately wants to become pregnant has her periods stop, her breasts grow large, and her abdomen swell. Only a blood test or an ultrasound or X ray can prove she's not pregnant."