Robin Cook - Foreign Body

Jennifer was trying to locate the world-famous spice bazaar on the guidebook’s cutaway map when the TV caught her attention. The woman anchor announced, “Following up on the news of two deaths in the heretofore vaunted Indian medical tourism hospitals, there has now been a third only an hour or so ago. Although the first two deaths occurred at the Queen Victoria Hospital in New Delhi, tonight’s tragic death occurred at the Aesculapian Medical Center, also in New Delhi, and involved a healthy, although obese, forty-eight-year-old from Jacksonville, Florida, named David Lucas. He’d undergone stomach-stapling surgery this morning. He is survived by a wife and two children, aged ten and twelve.”

Mesmerized, Jennifer sat up straight.

“Such a tragedy,” the male anchor agreed, “especially with the children involved. Did they say what the cause of death was?”

“They did. It seems that it was some sort of heart attack/stroke combination.”

“It’s awful. People going to India to save a few bucks, and wham, they come home in a box. If I were facing surgery and had to choose between it costing a little less and dying versus spending a bit more and living, there’s no doubt what I’d chose.”

“No question. And apparently a number of other clients are reacting the same way. CNN has been getting a rising blizzard of reports and e-mails of people canceling surgery scheduled to be done in India.”

“I’m not at all surprised,” the male anchor said. “As I said, if it were me, I certainly would.”

When the anchors switched to another subject dealing with Halloween coming up in a mere two weeks, Jennifer lowered the TV’s volume. She was again stumped. Another cardiac death in a private Indian hospital involving a healthy American occurring about the same time postsurgery.

Jennifer looked at the clock and tried to figure out what time it was in Atlanta. She came up with about eleven-thirty in the morning. Impulsively, she grabbed her phone, and by using AT&T directory assistance got herself connected to CNN. After explaining what she was interested in and being switched around from several different departments, she finally got a woman on the line who seemed to know what she was talking about. The woman introduced herself at Jamielynn.

“I just saw a segment on CNN International about a medical tourism death,” Jennifer said. “What I’d like to know is, who—”

“I’m sorry, we don’t divulge anything about our sources,” Jamielynn said, interrupting Jennifer.

“I was afraid of that,” Jennifer said. “But what about the time the story came in. That wouldn’t compromise your source in any way.”

“I suppose not,” Jamielynn agreed. “Let me ask! Hold the line!” Jamielynn was gone for a few minutes before coming back. “I can tell you when it came in but that’s all. It came in at ten-forty-one a.m. EST and was broadcast the first time at eleven-oh-two.”

“Thank you,” Jennifer said. She wrote it down on the pad by the phone. She then called down to the concierge and asked for the phone number of the Aesculapian Medical Center. Once she had it, she dialed it. She had to wait for a number of rings. When it was answered, she asked to be connected to David Lucas’s room.

“I’m sorry, we are not allowed to ring patient rooms after eight.”

“How do family members call after eight?” Jennifer thought she knew but wanted to ask anyway.

“They have the direct-dial number.”

Jennifer hung up without saying good-bye. She felt she was on a roll, and called down to the front desk. She asked if there was a guest in the hotel by the name of Mrs. David Lucas. As she waited, she wondered if she’d be able to muster the courage to call the woman so soon after the event.

“I’m sorry, but we have no Mrs. Lucas registered at the hotel,” the front desk clerk said.

“Are you certain?” Jennifer questioned. She felt an immediate letdown.

The clerk spelled the name and asked if Jennifer had an alternate spelling. Jennifer said no and discouragingly was about to hang up when she thought of something. “I’m here at the Amal Palace Hotel because of the Queen Victoria Hospital. Do other private hospitals put their international patients’ next of kin at other hotels?”

“Yes, they do,” the clerk said. “Even the Queen Victoria does as well if we are fully booked.”

“Can you tell me what hotels I might try?”

“Yes, of course. Any of the other five-star hotels. The Taj Mahal, the Oberoi, the Imperial, the Ashok, and the Grand are the most popular, but the Park and the Hyatt Regency are used as well. It depends on availability. If you’d like to be connected to any of these hotels, the operator will be happy to do it.”

Taking the clerk’s advice, Jennifer called the other hotels in the order in which they had been given. It didn’t take long. Jennifer scored on the third hotel, the Imperial.

“Can I connect you?” the Imperial operator asked.

Jennifer hesitated. She would be seriously disturbing and upsetting the woman, no matter whether the woman was aware of her husband’s status or not. Yet with the similarities between her grandmother’s case, Mr. Benfatti’s, and this current one, she felt she had little choice. “Yes,” Jennifer said finally.

Jennifer grimaced as she heard it ring. When it was answered she rapidly jumped and initially stumbled over her words as she explained who she was and apologized effusively for being a disturbance.

“You are not disturbing me,” Mrs. Lucas said. “And please call me Rita.”

You won’t be asking me to call you Rita as soon as I tell you why I’m calling, Jennifer thought to herself as she struggled to find the courage to begin. It was already clear to her that like herself and Mrs. Benfatti, Rita had not yet been informed of her husband’s fate, even though CNN already had it on the air. To soften the blow, Jennifer went ahead and explained to the woman what had happened to her and Lucinda vis-à-vis CNN.

“That’s awful learning like that,” Rita said sympathetically, but her voice trailed off as if she reluctantly sensed why Jennifer was calling her after nine at night.

“Yes,” Jennifer agreed, “especially since in the U.S. the media go to great lengths to avoid it because they want the family informed first. But Mrs. Lucas, just a few moments ago I had CNN International on, and the anchors discussed the tragedy of your husband’s passing.”

After finally getting herself to say it, Jennifer fell silent. As the seconds ticked by, Jennifer didn’t know if she should express sympathy or wait for Mrs. Lucas to respond. As the time passed, Jennifer could no longer stay silent. “I am so sorry to have had to be the one to tell you this awful news, but there is a reason.”

“Is this some cruel prank?” Rita demanded angrily.

“I assure you it is not,” Jennifer said, feeling the woman’s anger and pain.

“But I just left David only a little more than an hour ago, and he was perfectly fine,” she yelled.

“I understand how you feel, Mrs. Lucas, with a stranger calling you up out of the blue. But I assure you it was broadcast around the world that a David Lucas of Jacksonville, Florida, passed away at the Aesculapian Medical Center an hour or so ago, and he is survived by a wife and two children.”

“My God!” Rita voiced in desperation.

“Mrs. Lucas, please call the hospital and make sure of this. If it is true, which I hope it isn’t, please call me back. I’m only trying to help. And if it is true, and they try to pressure you into agreeing to cremation or embalming immediately, please do not do it. Because of my experience with the hospital where my granny and Mr. Benfatti had had their surgery, I’m thinking there is something wrong, something very wrong, with Indian medical tourism.”