Robin Cook - Fever

Fearful of intruding on the nurses’ important tasks, Cathryn tentatively called out to her. The nurse swung around in her chair, her face expectant.

“There wasn’t anyone on the line,” explained Cathryn.

“That’s strange,” said the nurse. “The caller said it was an emergency.”

“Was it a man or a woman?” asked Cathryn.

“A man,” said the nurse.

Cathryn wondered if it were Charles. Maybe he had gone over to Gina’s. “Could I make a local call from this phone?” asked Cathryn.

“We don’t usually allow that,” said the nurse, “but if you make it quick… Dial nine first.”

Cathryn hurried back to the phone and quickly dialed her mother’s. When Gina answered, Cathryn was instantly relieved. Her mother’s voice was normal.

“What have you had to eat?” asked Gina.

“I’m not hungry,” said Cathryn.

“You must eat!” commanded Gina, as if the consumption of food solved all problems.

“Has Charles called?” asked Cathryn, ignoring her mother.

“Not a word. Some father!” Gina made a disapproving clucking sound.

“How about Chuck?”

“He’s here. You want to talk with him?”

Cathryn debated about discussing the need for a marrow transplant with Chuck, but remembering his previous reaction, decided to wait to do it in person. “No. I’ll be home soon. I’ll make sure Michelle is sleeping soundly, then I’ll come home.”

“I’ll have some spaghetti waiting,” said Gina.

Cathryn hung up, intuitively convinced that the mysterious caller had to have been Charles. What kind of an emergency could it have been? And why didn’t he stay on the line? Passing the nurse, Cathryn thanked her for allowing her to use the phone.

She walked quickly, passing the partially opened doors of the other rooms, smelling pungent medical aromas, hearing the occasional cry of a child.

Reaching Michelle’s room, Cathryn noticed that she had left the door completely open. As she stepped into the room, she hoped that the light from the corridor had not bothered Michelle. Quietly she pulled the door almost closed behind her and walked carefully over to her chair in the near dark. She was about to sit down when she realized that the bed was empty. Afraid to step on Michelle in case she’d tumbled onto the floor, Cathryn quickly bent down and felt around the bed. The narrow shaft of hall light glistened on the polished vinyl and Cathryn immediately could see that Michelle was not there. In a panic, she hurried to the bathroom and turned on the light. Michelle was not there, either. Returning to the room, Cathryn switched on the overhead light. Michelle was not in the room!

Cathryn ran out of the room and down the long hall, arriving back at the nurses’ station out of breath. “Nurse! My daughter’s not in her room! She’s gone!”

The charge nurse looked up from her writing, then down at her clipboard. “That’s Martel?”

“Yes! Yes! And she was there sleeping soundly when I came down here to answer the phone.”

“Our report from the day shift said she was very weak?” questioned the nurse.

“That’s the point,” said Cathryn. “She might hurt herself.”

As if she thought Cathryn was lying, the nurse insisted on returning to Michelle’s room. She glanced around the room and checked the bathroom. “You’re right, she’s not here.”

Cathryn restrained herself from making any disparaging comments. The nurse put in a call to security telling them that a twelve-year-old girl had vanished from Anderson 6. She also flipped on a series of small signal lights that called back the team of RNs and LPNs who’d been out working on the floor. She told them of Michelle’s apparent disappearance and sent them back out to search all the rooms.

“Martel,” said the charge nurse after the others had left. “That rings a bell. What was the name of the child taken down to radiology for that emergency flat plate?”

Cathryn looked bewildered. For a moment she thought the woman was asking her the question.

“That’s probably it,” said the nurse, picking up the phone and dialing radiology. She had to let it ring almost twenty times before a harried technician picked it up.

“You’re doing an emergency flat plate on a patient from Anderson 6,” said the charge nurse. “What is the name of the child?”

“I haven’t done any emergency flat plates,” said the technician. “Must have been George. He’s up in the OR doing a portable chest. He’ll be back in a minute and I’ll have him call.” The technician hung up before the charge nurse could respond.

Charles wheeled Michelle into the emergency room and, without any hesitation to suggest he didn’t belong there, pushed the gurney into the examination area. He selected an empty cubicle and, pulling aside the curtain, brought Michelle in next to the table. After closing the curtain, he got out Michelle’s clothes.

The excitement of the caper had buoyed Michelle’s spirits and, despite her weakness, she tried to help her father as he dressed her. Charles found that he was very clumsy, and the more he hurried, the clumsier he was. Michelle had to do all the buttons and tie her shoes.

After she was dressed, Charles left her for a few moments to find some cling bandage. Luckily he didn’t have to look far. Returning to the cubicle, he sat Michelle up and eyed her.

“We have to make it look like you were in an accident,” he said. “I know what we’ll do!”

He tore open the bandage and began winding it around Michelle’s head as if she’d suffered a laceration. When he was finished he stepped back. “Perfect!” As a final touch, Charles put a regular bandage over the bridge of her nose, making her laugh. Charles told her she looked like a motorcyclist who’d fallen on her head.

Pretending that she weighed two hundred pounds, he picked up his daughter and staggered out through the curtain. Once in the corridor he quickly became serious, heading toward the entrance. To his satisfaction the emergency room had become even busier than when he’d first entered. Tearful children with all manner of cuts and bruises were waiting, while mothers with coughing infants queued up to check in. Amidst the confusion Charles was unnoticed. Only one nurse turned as Charles and Michelle passed by. When Charles caught her eye he smiled and mouthed the words, “Thank you.” She waved back self-consciously as if she thought she should recognize them but didn’t.

Approaching the exit, Charles saw a uniformed security man jump up from the nearby chair. Charles’s heart fluttered, but the man didn’t challenge them; instead he scurried to the door and said: “Hope she’s feeling better. Have a good night.”

With a welcome sense of freedom, Charles carried Michelle out of the hospital. Quickening his steps, he hurried to the parking garage, settled Michelle in the van, paid his parking fee, and drove off.

Cathryn tried to be both patient and understanding, but as time passed she became increasingly nervous. She castigated herself for leaving Michelle to answer the telephone. She should have had the call transferred directly to Michelle’s room.

As she paced the lounge, she involuntarily thought about Michelle’s comment: “I think it would be better if I were dead.” She’d initially put the statement out of her mind, but now that Michelle had not reappeared, it kept coming back to haunt her. Cathryn had no idea if Michelle could do herself harm but, having heard all sorts of grisly stories, she could not dismiss her fear.

Checking her watch, Cathryn walked out of the lounge and approached the nurses’ station. How could a hospital lose a sick twelve-year-old child who was so weak she could barely walk?