Robin Cook - Fever

“But he’s in pure research,” said Dr. Wiley. “He’s been away from clinical medicine for almost ten years. It’s a good argument for researchers to keep one foot in clinical medicine to keep their sense of perspective alive. After all, taking care of people is what it’s all about.”

They reached the nurses’ station, and both men leaned on the counter surveying the busy scene about them with unseeing eyes.

“Charles’s anger did scare me for a moment,” admitted Dr. Wiley. “I thought he’d totally lost control.”

“He wasn’t much better in my office,” said Dr. Keitzman, shaking his head. “I’ve dealt with anger before, as I’m sure you have, but not like this. People get angry at fate, not the diagnosing physicians.”

The two men watched an OR orderly skillfully navigate a gurney carrying a recent post-op down the corridor from the patient elevator. For a moment they didn’t talk. The gurney carrying the child from recovery disappeared into one of the rooms, and several nurses hurried after it.

“Are you thinking about what I am?” asked Dr. Keitzman.

“Probably. I’m wondering just how stable Dr. Charles Martel is.”

“Then we’re thinking the same thing,” said Dr. Keitzman. “Those sudden mood shifts in my office.”

Dr. Wiley nodded. “Even given the circumstances, his reaction seemed inappropriate. But he’s always been an odd duck. Lives someplace in the middle of nowhere in New Hampshire. He claimed it was his first wife’s idea but after she died, he didn’t move. And now he’s got this wife living up there, too. I don’t know. To each his own, I guess.”

“His new wife seems fine.”

“Oh, she’s a peach. Adopted the kids, treats them like her own. I was afraid when they got married that she’d bit off more than she could chew, but she’s adapted remarkably. She was devastated when I told her Michelle had leukemia, but I was pretty sure she’d deal with it better than Charles. In fact, that’s why I told her first.”

“Maybe we should talk just to her for a moment,” suggested Dr. Keitzman. “What do you think?”

“Let’s try.” Dr. Wiley turned to face the nurses’ station. “Miss Shannon! Could you come over here for a moment?”

The charge nurse came over to the two doctors. Dr. Wiley explained that they wanted to speak to Mrs. Martel without her husband and asked her if she wouldn’t mind going down to Michelle’s room and trying to engineer it.

As they watched Miss Shannon walk briskly down the hall, Dr. Keitzman’s facial muscles jumped. “It goes without saying that the child is desperately ill.”

“I thought as much when I saw her peripheral blood smear,” said Dr. Wiley. “Then when I saw her bone marrow, I was sure.”

“She could be a very rapidly terminating case, I’m afraid,” said Dr. Keitzman. “I think she already has central nervous system involvement. Which means we have to commence treatment today. I want Dr. Nakano and Dr. Sheetman to see her right away. Martel is right about one thing. Her chance of a remission is very slim.”

“But you still have to try,” said Dr. Wiley. “At times like these I don’t envy you your specialty.”

“Of course I’ll try,” said Dr. Keitzman. “Ah, here comes Mrs. Martel.”

Cathryn had followed Miss Shannon out into the hall, half-expecting to see Marge Schonhauser because the nurse had said someone was asking to see her. She hadn’t been able to think of anyone else who knew that she was in the hospital. Once clear of the room, however, Miss Shannon confided that the doctors wanted to speak to her alone. It sounded ominous.

“Thank you for coming out,” said Dr. Wiley.

“It’s all right,” said Cathryn, her eyes darting from one man to the next. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s about your husband,” began Dr. Keitzman cautiously. He paused, trying to choose his words carefully.

“We’re concerned that he may interfere in Michelle’s treatment,” Dr. Wiley finished the thought. “It’s hard for him. First he knows too much about the disease himself. Then he already has watched someone he loved die despite chemotherapy.”

“It’s not that we don’t understand his feelings. We just feel Michelle should have every chance at remission regardless of the side effects.”

Cathryn examined the narrow, hawklike features of Dr. Keitzman and the broad, rounded face of Dr. Wiley. They were outwardly so different yet similar in their intensity. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“We’d just like you to give us some idea of his emotional state,” said Dr. Keitzman. “We’d like to have some idea of what to expect.”

“I think he will be fine,” assured Cathryn. “He had a lot of trouble adjusting when his first wife died, but he never interfered with her treatment.”

“Does he often lose his temper as he did today?” asked Keitzman.

“He’s had an awful shock,” said Cathryn. “I think it’s understandable. Besides, ever since his first wife died, cancer research has been his passion.”

“It’s a terrible irony,” agreed Dr. Wiley.

“But what about the kind of emotional outburst he demonstrated today?” asked Dr. Keitzman.

“He does have a temper,” said Cathryn, “but he usually keeps it under control.”

“Well, that’s encouraging,” said Dr. Keitzman. “Maybe it’s not going to be so difficult after all. Thank you, Mrs. Martel. You’ve been most helpful, especially since I know you, too, have had a terrible shock. I’m sorry if we’ve said anything disturbing but we’ll do our best for Michelle, I can assure you of that.” Turning to Dr. Wiley, he said, “I’ve got to get things rolling. I’ll speak to you later.” He moved quickly, almost at a run, and was out of sight in seconds.

“He has some strange mannerisms,” said Dr. Wiley, “but you couldn’t get a better oncologist. He’s one of the top people in the world in childhood leukemia.”

“I was afraid he was going to abandon us when Charles acted up,” said Cathryn.

“He’s too good of a doctor for that,” said Dr. Wiley. “He’s only concerned about Charles because of your husband’s attitude to chemotherapy, and aggressive treatment has to be started right away to get her into a remission.”

“I’m sure Charles won’t interrupt her treatment,” said Cathryn.

“Let’s hope not,” said Dr. Wiley. “But we’re going to count on your strength, Cathryn.”

“My strength?” questioned Cathryn, aghast. “Hospitals and medical problems aren’t my strong points.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to overcome that,” said Dr. Wiley. “Michelle’s clinical course could be very difficult.”

At that moment she caught sight of Charles emerging from Michelle’s room. He spotted Cathryn and started toward the nurses’ station. Cathryn ran down to meet him. They stood for a moment in a silent embrace, drawing strength from each other. When they started back toward Dr. Wiley, Charles seemed more in control.

“She’s a good kid,” he said. “Christ, all she’s worried about is staying overnight. Said she wanted to be home in the morning to make the orange juice. Can you believe that?”

“She feels responsible,” said Cathryn. “Until I arrived she was the woman of the house. She’s afraid of losing you, Charles.”

“It’s amazing what you don’t know about your own children,” said Charles. “I asked her if she minded if I went back to the lab. She said no, as long as you stayed here, Cathryn.”

Cathryn was touched. “On the way to the hospital we had a little talk, and for the first time I felt she really accepted me.”

“She’s lucky to have you,” said Charles. “And so am I. I hope you don’t mind my leaving you here. I hope you understand. I feel such a terrible powerlessness. I’ve got to do something.”