Robin Cook - Terminal

“You indicated a preference for floor duty,” Ms. Richmond said as she consulted her notes.

“Correct,” Janet said. “Floor duty gives me the type of patient contact that I find the most rewarding.”

“We have an opening for days on the fourth floor,” Ms. Richmond said.

“Sounds good,” Janet said cheerfully.

“When would you like to start?” Ms. Richmond asked.

“Tomorrow,” Janet said. She would have preferred a few days’ delay to give herself a chance to find an apartment and get settled, but she felt an urgency about delving into the medulloblastoma protocol.

“I’d like to use today to try to find a nearby apartment,” Janet added.

“I don’t think you should stay around here,” Ms. Richmond said. “If I were you I’d go out to the beach. They’ve done a nice job restoring the area. Either that or Coconut Grove.”

“I’ll take your advice,” Janet said. Assuming the meeting was over, she stood.

“How about a quick tour of the hospital?” Ms. Richmond asked.

“I’d like that,” Janet said.

Ms. Richmond first took Janet across the hall to meet Dan Selenburg, the hospital administrator. But he wasn’t available. Instead, they went to the first floor to see the outpatient facilities, the hospital auditorium, and the cafeteria.

On the second floor Janet peered into the ICU, the surgical area, the chemistry lab, the radiology department, and medical records. Then they went up to the fourth floor.

Janet was impressed with the hospital. It was cheerful, modern, and appeared to be adequately staffed, which was particularly important from a nursing point of view. She’d had her misgivings about oncology and the fact that all the patients would be cancer patients, but given the otherwise pleasant environment and the variety in the patients she saw — some old, some gravely ill, others seemingly normal — she decided the Forbes hospital was definitely a place in which she could work. In many ways, it wasn’t dissimilar to the Boston Memorial, just newer and more pleasantly decorated.

The fourth floor was arranged in the same configuration as other patient floors. It was a simple rectangle with private rooms on either side of a central corridor. The nurses’ station was situated in the middle of the floor near the elevators and formed a large U-shaped counter. Behind it was a utility room and a small closet-like pharmacy with a dutch door. Across from the nurses’ station was a patients’ lounge. A housekeeping closet with a slop sink was across from the elevators. At either end of the long central hall were stairways.

Once their tour was completed, Ms. Richmond turned Janet over to Marjorie Singleton, the head nurse on days. Janet liked Marjorie immediately. She was a petite redhead with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She seemed in a constant flurry of activity and never without a smile. Janet met other staffers as well, but the profusion of names overwhelmed her. Aside from Ms. Richmond and Marjorie, she didn’t think she’d remember a single person to whom she’d been introduced except for Tim Katzenburg, the ward secretary. He was a blond-haired Adonis who looked more like a beach boy than a hospital ward secretary. He told Janet he was taking pre-med courses at night school since discovering the limited utility of a philosophy degree.

“We’re really glad to have you,” Marjorie said when she rejoined Janet after taking care of a minor emergency. “Boston’s loss is our gain.”

“I’m happy to be here,” Janet said.

“We’ve been short-handed since the tragedy with Sheila Arnold,” Marjorie said.

“What happened?”

“The poor woman was raped and shot in her apartment,” Marjorie said. “And not too far from the hospital. Welcome to big city life.”

“How terrible,” Janet said. She wondered if that was the reason Ms. Richmond had warned her against the immediate neighborhood.

“Currently we happen to have a small contingent of patients from Boston,” Marjorie said. “Would you like to meet them?”

“Sure,” Janet said.

Marjorie bounded off. Janet practically had to run to keep up with her. Together they entered a room on the west side of the hospital.

“Helen,” Marjorie called softly once she stood beside the bed. “You have a visitor from Boston.”

Bright green eyes opened. Their intense color contrasted dramatically with the patient’s pale skin.

“We have a new nurse joining our staff,” Marjorie said. She then introduced the two women.

The name Helen Cabot immediately registered in Janet’s mind. Despite the mildly jealous feelings she’d had back in Boston, she was pleased to find Helen at the Forbes. Her presence would undoubtedly help keep Sean in Florida.

After Janet had spoken briefly with Helen, the two nurses left the room.

“Sad case,” Marjorie said. “Such a sweet girl. She’s scheduled for a biopsy today. I hope she responds to the treatment.”

“But I’ve heard that you people have had a hundred percent remission with her particular type of tumor,” Janet said.

“Why wouldn’t she respond?”

Marjorie stopped and stared at Janet. “I’m impressed,” she said. “Not only are you aware of our medulloblastoma results, you made an instantaneous and correct diagnosis. Are you endowed with powers we should know about?”

“Hardly,” Janet said with a laugh. “Helen Cabot was a patient at my hospital in Boston. I’d heard about her case.”

“That makes me feel more comfortable,” Marjorie said. “For a second there I thought I was witnessing the supernatural.” She began walking again. “I’m concerned about Helen Cabot because her tumors are far advanced. Why did you people keep her for so long? She should have been started on treatment weeks ago.”

“That’s something I know nothing about,” Janet admitted.

The next patient was Louis Martin. In contrast to Helen, Louis did not appear ill. In fact, he was sitting in a chair fully dressed. He’d only arrived that morning and was still in the process of being admitted. Although he didn’t look sick, he did appear anxious.

Marjorie went through introductions again, adding that Louis had the same problem as Helen, but that thankfully he’d been sent to them much more swiftly.

Janet shook hands with the man, noting his palm was damp. She looked into the man’s terrified eyes, wishing there was something she could say that would comfort him. She also felt a little guilty realizing that she was somewhat pleased to learn of Louis’s plight. Having two patients on her floor under the medulloblastoma protocol would give her that much more opportunity to investigate the treatment. Sean would undoubtedly be pleased.

As Marjorie and Janet returned to the nurses’ station, Janet asked if the medulloblastoma cases were all on the fourth floor.

“Heavens no,” Marjorie said. “We don’t group patients according to tumor type. Their assignment is purely random. It just so happens we’ll currently have three. As we speak we’re admitting another case: a young woman from Houston named Kathleen Sharenburg.”

Janet hid her elation.

“There’s one last patient from Boston,” Marjorie said as she stopped outside of room 409. “And she’s a doll with an incredibly upbeat attitude that’s been a source of strength and support for all the other patients. I believe she said she’s from a section of town called the North End.”

Marjorie knocked on the closed door. A muffled “Come in” could be heard. Marjorie pushed open the door and stepped inside. Janet followed.

“Gloria,” Marjorie called. “How’s the chemo going?”

“Lovely,” Gloria joked. “I’ve just started the IV portion today.”