Robin Cook - Toxin

"It must be heart-wrenching," Marsha said.

"You've no idea," Kim said.

They boarded a crowded elevator and didn't talk until they were in the corridor leading toward the ICU.

"I don't mean to be nosy," Marsha said, "but how is your wife holding up under the strain of your daughter's illness?"

"We're divorced," Kim said. "But we're united in our concern for Becky. Tracy, my ex-wife, is taking it hard, although I sense she's doing better than I. I'm sure she's here. I'll introduce you."

Marsha shuddered. Having to share a mother's anguish was going to make the experience that much more disturbing. She began to question why she'd allowed herself to be dragged into this.

Then, to make matters worse, Marsha saw signs to the ICU that pointed in the direction they were walking.

"Is your daughter in intensive care?" she asked, hoping for a negative response.

"I'm afraid so," Kim answered.

Marsha sighed. This was going to be even worse than she'd feared.

Kim paused at the threshold of the ICU waiting room. He saw Tracy and motioned for Marsha to follow him. By the time be reached Tracy, his former wife had gotten to her feet.

" Tracy, I'd like you to meet Marsha Baldwin. Marsha is a USDA inspector who I'm hoping will help me trace the meat Becky had."

Tracy didn't answer immediately, and seeing her expression, Kim instantly knew that something else had happened. It seemed that every time he came back, Becky got worse. It was like a bad movie playing over and over.

"What now?" Kim asked grimly.

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" Tracy asked with weary exasperation.

"It didn't ring," Kim said.

"I tried to call," Tracy said. "Several times."

Kim realized he'd left his phone in his car when he'd been in Mercer Meats and when he had been with Marsha.

"Well, I'm here now," Kim said disconsolately. "What happened?"

"Her heart stopped," Tracy said. "But they got it going again. I was in the room when it happened."

"Perhaps I should leave," Marsha said.

"No!" Kim said emphatically. "Stay, please! Let me go in and see what's happening."

Kim spun on his heels and ran from the room.

Tracy and Marsha regarded each other uneasily.

"I'm so sorry about your daughter," Marsha said.

"Thank you," Tracy said. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue. She'd cried so much in the previous forty-eight hours that she was almost out of tears. "She's such a wonderful child."

"I wasn't aware your daughter was quite this ill," Marsha said. "It must be a terrible burden."

"Unimaginable," Tracy said.

"I feel terrible about intruding at a time like this," Marsha said. "I'm very sorry. Perhaps I should just leave."

"You don't have to leave on my accord," Tracy said. "Kim sounded emphatic that he'd prefer you stay. How he can even think about tracing meat at this juncture, I cannot understand. I'm having difficulty just breathing."

"It must be because he's a doctor," Marsha said. "He made it clear to me he was interested in trying to prevent other children from getting the same problem."

"I suppose I hadn't thought about it from that angle," Tracy said. "Maybe I shouldn't be so quick to judge."

"He's afraid there's a batch of contaminated meat out there," Marsha said.

"I guess that's a real possibility," Tracy said. "But what I don't understand is why he brought you here. I don't mean that to be rude."

"I understand," Marsha said. "He'd asked me to help trace the meat in some specific lots. I was reluctant; it's really not part of my job. In fact, giving out that kind of information might cost me my job if my boss found out. His idea was that seeing your daughter and witnessing firsthand what this E. coli can do might change my mind. At a minimum, he thought seeing her would give added meaning to my work as a meat inspector."

"Seeing Becky's suffering might make you the most conscientious inspector in the world. Are you still interested in knowing how sick she is? It'll take a bit of fortitude."

"I don't know," Marsha said truthfully. "And as I said, I don't want to intrude."

"You're not intruding," Tracy said with sudden resolve. "Come on. Let's make your visit."

Tracy led Marsha out of the waiting room and across the corridor. She paused at the ICU door.

"Stay close," Tracy said. "We're not supposed to be wandering in and out of here unaccompanied."

Marsha nodded. Her heart was beating rapidly, and she was perspiring.

Tracy opened the door and the two women entered. Tracy walked quickly toward Becky's cubicle, with Marsha right behind her. Several of the nurses saw the women but said nothing. Tracy had become a fixture in the ICU over the previous forty-eight hours.

"I'm afraid it's going to be difficult to see much at all," Tracy said as they reached the cubicle's threshold. Besides Kim, there were six doctors and two nurses packed into the tiny room. But it was Kim's voice that could be heard.

"I understand that she has arrested several times," Kim yelled. He was furious from a combination of fear and exasperation. Drawing on his vast clinical experience, he knew his daughter was at death's door, but no one was giving him a straight answer, and no one was doing anything but stand around and figuratively stroke their chins. "What I'm asking is why it's happening."

Kim stared at Jason Zimmerman, the pediatric cardiologist to whom he'd just been introduced. The man looked off, pretending to be absorbed in watching the cardiac monitor that was tracing an erratic rhythm. Something was terribly wrong.

Kim twisted to look at Claire Stevens. Over her shoulder, he caught sight of Tracy and Marsha.

"We don't know what is going on," Claire admitted. "There's no pericardial fluid, so it's not tamponade."

"It seems to me it's something inherent in the myocardium itself," Jason said. "I need a real EKG."

No sooner had these words escaped from the cardiologist's mouth than the monitor alarm sounded. The cursor swept across the screen tracing a flat line. Becky had arrested again.

"Code blue!" one of the nurses shouted to alert the others out in the intensive-care unit proper.

Jason responded by pushing Kim away from the side of the bed. Immediately he began external cardiac massage by putting his hands together and pumping on Becky's frail chest. Jane Flanagan, the anesthesiologist who'd responded to the initial code and who was still there, made sure the endotracheal tube remained in proper place. She also upped the percentage of oxygen delivered by the respirator.

ICU nurses brought the cardiac crash cart on the run. They practically collided with Tracy and Marsha who had to leap out of the way.

Inside the cubicle there was a flurry of activity as the doctors present all lent a hand. It was apparent to everyone that the heart had not just stopped effective beating, but that all electrical activity had ceased.

Tracy clasped a hand to her face. She wanted to flee but she couldn't. It was as if she were frozen in place, fated to watch every agonizing detail.

All Marsha could do was cringe behind Tracy, fearful that she would be in the way.

Kim initially stepped back, recoiling in disbelief and horror. His eyes swept back and forth between the monitor screen to his daughter's pitiful body being savaged by the pediatric cardiologist.

"Epinephrine!" Jason yelled while he continued his efforts.

The nurses at the crash cart responded by efficiently filling a syringe with the medication and handing it off. After several changes of hand, it was given to Jason who stopped his massage long enough to plunge the needle directly into Becky's heart.

Tracy covered her eyes and moaned. Marsha instinctively put her arms around her, but couldn't take her own eyes off the ghastly drama unfolding in front of her.