Robin Cook - Godplayer

“I’m not going to the hospital today,” said Cassi as brightly as she could. “I’m not expected in psychiatry, and I have an enormous amount to read. I brought home an entire bag full of reprints.”

“Suit yourself,” said Thomas, pushing himself up to a sitting position. “I’m on call tonight, so I’m not sure when I’ll be home. I’ll let you know later.”

Cassi went down to the kitchen to make something for Thomas to eat in the car.

Thomas sat on the edge of the bed while the room whirled around him. He waited until his vision cleared, feeling each pulse like a hammer in his head. He stumbled first to the desk where he got out one of his plastic containers. Then he made his way into the bathroom.

Avoiding his image in the mirror, Thomas tried to get one of the small, orange triangular pills out of the container. It was no easy task, and it wasn’t until he’d dropped several that he got one into his mouth and washed it down. Only then did he venture a glance at his face. It didn’t look as bad as he feared nor as bad as he felt. With a bit more agility he took another pill, stepped into the shower, and turned on the water full blast.

Cassi stood by the window in the living room watching as Thomas disappeared into the garage. Even through the glass she could hear the roar of the Porsche as it started. She wondered what it sounded like in Patricia’s apartment. The thought made her realize that she’d never visited Patricia; not once in the three years Cassi had been living there.

She watched until Thomas’s Porsche had accelerated down the driveway and disappeared into the damp morning fog that hung over the salt marsh. Even after the car was out of sight, its low-frequency roar could be heard as Thomas shifted gears. Finally the noise vanished and the stillness of the empty house enveloped Cassi.

Looking at her palms, Cassi noticed they were damp. Her first thought was that she was experiencing a mild insulin reaction. Then she realized it was nervousness. She was going to violate Thomas’s study. She’d always felt that trust and privacy were necessary parts of a close relationship, but she simply had to know if Thomas was taking tranquilizers or any other drugs. For months she’d been closing her eyes, hoping her marriage would improve. Now she knew she could not continue to wait passively any longer.

As she opened the door to Thomas’s study, she felt like a burglar: a very bad burglar. Each little sound in the house made her jump.

“My God,” said Cassi out loud. “You’re being an idiot!”

Her own voice had a calming effect. As Thomas’s wife she had the right to enter every room in the house. Yet in many ways she still felt like a visitor.

The study was in partial disarray. The sofa bed was still open, the covers piled in a heap on the floor. Cassi eyed the desk but then saw the open bathroom door. She pulled open the medicine cabinet. Inside were shaving gear, the usual litter of patented medicines, several old tooth-brushes, and some out-dated Tetracycline antibiotics. She looked through all the packages and containers. There was nothing remotely suspicious.

As she was about to leave, her eye caught a flash of color on the white-tiled floor. Bending down, she found herself holding a small triangular orange pill stamped with SKF-E-19. It looked familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Back in Thomas’s study she scanned the bookshelves for a Physician’s Desk Reference . Not finding one, she walked back to the morning room and took out her own. Quickly she turned to the product identification section. It was Dexedrine!

Holding the pill in her hand, Cassi stared out at the sea. There was a lone sailboat about a quarter mile out moving slowly through the swells. Watching it for a moment helped her organize her thoughts. She felt a weird mixture of relief and increased anxiety. The anxiety came from confirming her fear that Thomas might be taking drugs. The relief stemmed from the nature of the pill that she’d found-Dexedrine. Cassi could easily imagine an achiever like Thomas taking an occasional “upper” in order to sustain his almost superhuman performance. Cassi was aware of how much surgery Thomas did. She could understand how he could fall into the trap of taking a pill to sharpen his attention when he was otherwise exhausted. For Cassi it seemed to be in keeping with his personality. But as much as she tried to calm herself, she was still afraid. She knew the dangers of abusing Dexedrine and wondered how much she was to blame for Thomas’s need for the drug, and how long he’d been taking it.

She put the innocent pill down on the desk and returned the PDR to the shelf. For a moment she was sorry she’d gone into Thomas’s study and found the pill. It would have been easier to ignore the situation. After all, it was most likely a temporary problem, and if she said something to Thomas, he would only get angry.

“You’ve got to do something,” said Cassi, trying to build her resolve. As ridiculous as it seemed, the only person who exerted any kind of authority over Thomas’s life was Patricia. Although Cassi was reluctant to discuss the issue with anyone, at least she could expect Patricia to keep Thomas’s best interests at heart. Briefly weighing the advantages and disadvantages, she decided to discuss the situation with her mother-in-law. If Thomas had been abusing Dexedrine for a long time, someone should intervene.

The first thing she had to do, Cassi decided, was to make herself presentable. Pulling off her terry robe and her nightgown, she went to the shower.

Thomas enjoyed presenting cases at Grand Rounds. The entire departments of internal medicine and surgery attended, including residents and medical students. Today the MacPherson amphitheater was so full people had even been forced to sit on the steps leading up from the central pit. Thomas always drew a crowd even when, as today, he split the schedule with George.

As Thomas finished his talk, which had been titled “Long-Term Follow-Up of Patients Undergoing Coronary Bypass,” the entire amphitheater broke into enthusiastic applause. The sheer volume of Thomas’s work was enough to impress anyone, and given his good results, the statistics seemed superhuman.

When he opened up the floor for questions, someone from the upper tier yelled out that he’d like to know what kind of diet Thomas ate that gave him so much energy. The audience laughed heartily, eager for a morsel of humor.

When the laughter died down, Thomas concluded by saying: “I believe from the statistics I’ve presented there can no longer be any residual doubt as to the efficacy of the coronary bypass procedure.”

He gathered his papers and took a chair at the table behind the podium next to Dr. George Sherman.

The topic of George’s presentation was “An Interesting Teaching Case.”

Thomas inwardly groaned and glanced longingly at the exit. He had a splitting headache that had gotten progressively more intense after his arrival at the hospital. What a ridiculous topic, Thomas thought. He watched with mounting irritation as George made his way over to the podium and blew into the microphone to make sure it was on. As if that weren’t enough, he tapped it with his ring. Satisfied, he began to speak.

The case was a twenty-eight-year-old man by the name of Jeoffry Washington who’d contracted acute rheumatic fever at age ten. He’d been a sick child at the time and hospitalized for an extended period. When the acute disease had run its course, the child had been left with a loud holosystolic heart murmur, indicating his mitral valve had been severely damaged. Over the years the problem gradually worsened to the point that an operation was needed to replace the damaged valve.

At that point Jeoffry Washington was wheeled in and presented to the audience. He was a slight, callow-appearing Negro with angular, precise features, bright eyes, and skin the color of blond oak. He held his head back and stared up into the multitude of faces that were looking down at him.