Robin Cook - Shock

"Forty employees is a lot," Joanna said. "It must be a godsend to a small rural community like this."

"One would think so," Dr. Donaldson said, "but in actuality we have a chronic problem recruiting help. We're forever advertising in the Boston papers, mostly for lab technicians and experienced admin people. Are you ladies interested in jobs?" Dr. Donaldson smiled teasingly.

"I don't think so," Deborah replied with a laugh.

"The only department that isn't shorthanded is the farm," Dr. Donaldson added. "We've had no problem in that arena since day one."

"The farm?" Joanna asked. "What do you mean the farm?"

"The Wingate Clinic has a large animal farm,' Dr. Donaldson explained. "It's an integral part of our research efforts. We're interested in basic reproductive research in species besides homo sapiens."

"Really?" said Joanna. "What other species are you looking at?"

"Any species that are economically significant," Dr. Donaldson said. "Cattle, pigs, poultry, horses. And, of course, we're also very much involved with the reproduction of domestic pets such as cats and dogs."

"Where is this farm?" Joanna asked.

"On the property directly behind this main building, which we affectionately call the 'monstrosity, and past a dense stand of white pine. The setting is rather idyllic. There's a pond, a dam, and even an old mill in addition to the barns, cornfields, hayfields, and paddocks. The Cabot Institution sat on over two hundred acres, with housing for its professional staff and its own farm to make it largely self-sufficient foodwise. Having the farm on the premises was one of the major reasons we leased the property. It makes our research a lot more efficient to have the farm adjacent to the laboratory, not to mention the housing."

"You have a laboratory here?" Deborah asked.

"Absolutely," Dr. Donaldson said. "A major lab. I'm particularly proud of it, probably because I'm mainly responsible for setting it up."

"Could we have a tour?" Deborah asked.

"I imagine that could be worked out," Dr. Donaldson said. "Ah, here comes Dr. Smith."

The women turned to see a large, heavyset man dressed in surgical scrubs enter the room carrying a clipboard. Just then, the front door opened and a throng of employees swarmed in, abuzz with conversation. One woman headed for the receptionist's desk while the rest crowded into the hall that Smith had just exited.

Joanna felt herself stiffen. Seeing the anesthesiologist's operating room garb made the reality of the upcoming procedure more difficult to suppress.

After introducing himself and shaking hands with both women, Dr. Smith sat down, crossed his legs, and positioned the clipboard on his lap. "Now then," he said as he took one of the many pens from his breast pocket. "Miss Cochrane, I understand your preference is local anesthesia."

"Correct," Deborah said.

"May I ask why?" Dr. Smith questioned.

"I just feel more comfortable with it," Deborah answered.

"I assume you've been informed that we prefer light general anesthesia for egg retrievals."

"Dr. Donaldson said as much," Deborah said. "She also said the decision was mine."

"That's very true," Dr. Smith said. "At the same time, I'd like to tell you why we prefer to have you asleep. Under light general anesthesia, we do the retrieval under direct laparoscopic observation. With local, paracervical anesthesia the retrieval is done with an ultrasound-guided needle. Comparatively speaking it's like working in the dark." Dr. Smith paused and smiled. "Any questions about what I've said so far?"

"No," Deborah said simply.

"There's one more issue," Dr. Smith said. "Under local anesthesia we don't have the control of pain coming from intra-abdominal manipulation. In other words, if we have any trouble getting to either ovary and have to do some maneuvers to make it possible, you might experience some discomfort."

"I'll take my chances," Deborah said.

"Even considering the pain issue?"

"I think I can handle it," Deborah said. "I prefer to be awake."

Dr. Smith glanced briefly at Dr. Donaldson, who shrugged. He then went through a brief medical history with both women. When he was finished he stood. "That's all I need for now. I'll have you two get changed, and I'll see you upstairs."

"Will I be getting a sedative?" Joanna asked.

"Absolutely," Dr. Smith said. "It will be administered as soon as you get your IV. Any other questions for the moment?"

When neither woman responded, Dr. Smith smiled and left. Dr. Donaldson then escorted the women down the main hall and into a separate, smaller waiting room. On one side were several changing cubicles with louvered doors and on the other a bank of lockers. A rack of hospital johnnies, paper slippers, and bathrobes was next to the lockers. A pleasant-faced, petite nurse was restocking the patient apparel. Several gurneys were parked by the double swinging entry doors. In the middle of the room were a grouping of chairs, a couch, and a coffee table littered with magazines.

Dr. Donaldson introduced the women to the nurse, whose name was Cynthia Carson. She in turn supplied the women with sets of the in-patient hospital garb, gave each of them a key to a locker along with advice to pin the keys to their johnnies, and opened the doors of two adjacent changing cubicles. At that point Dr. Donaldson took her leave. A few moments later Cynthia also left, to get the IV supplies. She said she'd be right back.

"That was a rather hard sell for general anesthesia," Joanna called out from her stall.

"You can say that again," Deborah agreed.

The women stepped out from their respective changing rooms, each holding her thin bathrobe closed with one hand and clutching her street clothes with the other. They burst out laughing when they saw each other.

"I hope I don't look as pathetic as you," Joanna managed.

"I hate to break it to you,' Deborah responded, "but you do."

They went to the lockers to secure their belongings.

"Why didn't you give in and take the general anesthesia?" Joanna asked.

"You're not going to start in on me, too, are you?" Deborah asked.

"The anesthesiologist's points made a lot of sense to me," Joanna said. "Especially when he explained about pain from intra-abdominal manipulation. It was enough to make me feel lightheaded. Don't you think you should reconsider?"

"Listen!." Deborah said as she slammed the locker door and yanked out the key. She faced her friend. Her cheeks had a sudden flush. "You and I have already had this discussion. I have this thing about being put to sleep. Call it a phobia. You don't like needles, and I don't like anesthesia, okay?"

"Okay!" Joanna said. "Jeez, calm down! I'm the one who's supposed to be unnerved by this, not you."

Deborah sighed. She closed her eyes briefly and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I suppose I'm on edge, too."

"No need to apologize," Joanna said.

At that moment Cynthia reappeared with an armload of paraphernalia, which she dumped on one of the gurneys. In her other hand she had an IV bottle, which she proceeded to hang on the gurney's IV pole. "Which one of you is Miss Meissner?" she called out.

"Joanna raised her hand.

Cynthia patted the gurney's padded surface covered with a fresh bedsheet. "How about hopping up here on this contraption so I can start an IV? Then I'm going to be giving you a cocktail that will make you feel like it's New Year's Eve."

Deborah reached out and gave her friend's arm a squeeze as they exchanged a compassionate glance. Joanna then did as she was told. Deborah came around to stand on the other side of the gurney.

Cynthia went through the preparations of starting the IV with a practiced economy of motion. At the same time she kept up a distracting stream of conversation about the weather, and before Joanna had a chance to work herself up into a dither, Cynthia was already putting a tourniquet around Joanna's left arm just below the elbow.