Robin Cook - Foreign Body

Jennifer was going to miss Maria terribly. She was the person with whom Jennifer was the closest, and had been since Jennifer was three years old. Besides her two brothers, neither of whom she spoke with for months on end, her only relatives that she knew were in Colombia, and she’d met them only once back when her grandmother had taken her there for that expressed purpose. Relatives on her mother’s side were a complete mystery. As far as Jennifer was concerned, her father, Juan, didn’t count.

Just as Jennifer had passed through the revolving entrance of the main redbrick hospital building, her cell phone sounded. Checking the screen, she could see it was India calling back. She answered the phone and in the process stepped back outside into the sunlight.

“I have good news,” Kashmira said. “I’ve been able to make all the arrangements. Do you have a pencil and paper?”

“I do,” Jennifer responded. Getting a small, stiff-backed notebook from her shoulder bag and tucking her phone into the crook of her neck, she was able to write down the flight information. When she learned she’d be leaving that afternoon but not arriving until almost the wee hours of Wednesday, she was appalled. “I had no idea it would take so long.”

“It is a long flight,” Kashmira admitted. “But we are halfway around the world. Now, when you land here in New Delhi and reach passport control, go to the diplomatic corps line. Your visa will be waiting there. Then once you have your baggage and come out of customs, there will be a representative from the Amal Palace Hotel holding a sign. He will handle your luggage and get you to your driver.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Jennifer said, while she was trying to figure out from the departure times and the arrival times just how many hours she would be in the air. She quickly realized she couldn’t do it without knowing all the time zones. In addition, she found herself confused by having to cross the international date line.

“Wednesday morning we will arrange a car to pick you up from the hotel at eight. Will that be alright with you?”

“I guess,” Jennifer said, wondering how human she would be feeling after being on a plane for nine years and having no idea how much sleep she would be able to get.

“We look forward to meeting you.”

“Thank you.”

“Now I’d like to ask you once again if you have made up your mind between cremation and embalming?”

A wave of irritation washed over Jennifer just when she was beginning to like the case manager. Didn’t she have any intuition? Jenifer wondered with amazement. “Now why would I change the way I thought just a couple of hours ago,” she questioned irritably.

“The administration made it clear to me they believe it would be best for everyone, even best for your grandmother’s body, if we got on with it.”

“Well, I’m sorry. My feelings have not changed, especially since I have been so busy that I haven’t had time to think about anything. Furthermore, I don’t want to feel like you are pushing me. I’m coming just as soon as I can.”

“We certainly are not pushing you. We are just recommending what is best for everyone.”

“I don’t consider it the best for me. I hope you people understand, because if I get there and my grandmother’s body has been violated without my consent, I’m going to make a big stink. I’m serious about this, because I can’t believe your laws are that much different than ours in this kind of situation. The body belongs to me as the responsible next of kin.”

“We certainly would not do anything without your expressed approval.”

“Good,” Jennifer said, recovering to a degree yet surprised about the vehemence of her response. It wasn’t lost on her that she was probably experiencing a significant amount of transference with her emotions, blaming the hospital and even Maria. Not only was she sad about her grandmother, she was also mad. It hardly seemed fair that Maria had not confided in her about running off to India, having major surgery, and then getting herself killed.

After terminating the call, Jennifer stood where she was, recognizing it was probably going to take her some time and effort to sort through her psychological issues. But then she realized what time it was and that she had to catch a flight whose departure was not that many hours away. With that in mind, she hustled back through the revolving door and headed for the emergency department.

As per usual, the emergency room was bedlam. Jennifer was looking for Dr. Neil McCulgan, who had risen in rapid fashion from chief emergency-medicine resident to his current position as an assistant emergency-room director in charge of scheduling. Jennifer had met him during her first year, when he was still a resident. As a character unknown on the East Coast, he was entirely unique to her, and she found him intriguing. Neil was a stereotypical Southern California “surfer dude” sans blond hair, which, in his case, was nondescript brown. What Jennifer found so distinctive was his openly friendly laid-back attitude that was in total contrast to his being a closet intellectual and a compulsive studier with a near photographic memory. When she’d first met him she truly couldn’t believe he’d been attracted to a tense, highly demanding medical specialty like emergency medicine.

Although Jennifer was well aware she didn’t share his social graces, she did share his general interest in knowledge for knowledge’s sake and his study habits, and found him a fertile source of all sorts of information. Over a period of a year Neil became the first man with whom she felt she could truly converse, and not only about medicine. As a consequence, they became best friends. Actually, Neil had become her first real boyfriend. She thought she’d had boyfriends before, but after meeting Neil she realized that was not exactly true. Neil had been the first person to whom Jennifer had been willing to confide her most private secrets.

“Excuse me!” Jennifer called out to one of the harried nurses at the chaotic central station. The nurse had just shouted something to a colleague who was leaning out a doorway several rooms down the main corridor. “Can you tell me where Dr. McCulgan is?”

“I haven’t the faintest,” the man said. For some reason he had two, not one, stethoscopes draped around his neck. “Did you try his office?”

Taking that suggestion, Jennifer hurried over to the triage area, where the office was located. Glancing in, she felt lucky. He was sitting at his desk with his back to her, dressed in a starched white coat over green scrubs. Jennifer plopped herself down in the chair squeezed between the desk and the wall. Startled, he looked up momentarily.

“Busy?” Jennifer managed, with a catch in her voice. Her question only elicited a scoffing chuckle from the man, whose attention had returned to the massive ER schedule for the month of November that he was poring over.

Neil had pleasant features, intelligent eyes, and a slight dusting of premature gray along his temples. He also had the broad shoulders and exceptionally narrow waist of a surfer. On his feet he wore white-leather wood-soled clogs. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” she questioned. As she spoke she had to choke back tears.

“If you can make it quick,” he said, but with a smile. “I have to have this schedule ready for the printer in one hour.” He looked up again and only then became aware that she was struggling with her emotions. “What’s wrong?” he said with sudden concern. He put down his pen and leaned toward her.

“I had awful news this morning.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, reaching out and gripping her arm. He didn’t ask what the news was about. He knew her well enough to know that she would tell him if she was inclined but wouldn’t tell him if she wasn’t, despite any amount of cajoling on his part.