"Like sands through the hourglass, these are the days of our lives." -- MacDonald Carey
"Sand, sand, everywhere nothin' but goddamn sand!" --Lawrence of
Arabia (unconfirmed)
Carter poked his head into the basement room in the little Lutheran church, where a bunch of folding chairs were set up, and checked the address on a sheet of paper in his hand: Room 27-A... sure enough. He was reluctant to actually step inside, though, until a guy lugging a giant coffee machine, with a pile of plastic-wrapped danishes teetering on top of it, staggered toward him; he stepped forward quickly, and took the pile before it could fall. "Hey, thanks. You here for the seven o'clock meeting?"
"AA? Uh, yeah. I guess so." The man smiled at him knowingly.
"New guy, huh? Let me guess - DUI?"
"Wha--? No, no, what makes you think that?"
"You have that look about you. I've seen enough new people come here - hell, I've been the new guy - to know the look. It's the look that says, 'I don't really belong here, it's all just a mistake'. Am I right?" Carter thought for a moment that he might choke - that was not him! No way!
"No. You're not." The man took in Carter's huge, almost panic-stricken eyes, and smiled reassuringly. He'd spoken out of turn - it had obviously been hard enough for this guy to come here this morning, he shouldn't be pushing.
"Well. Okay. I'm sorry. Go ahead and have a seat, the meeting will begin in just a minute - I wanna get this coffee started."
"Huh. That's a lot of coffee," Carter commented, tilting his head at the small group of people that were already seated. The man grinned, and gestured at a table where another coffee machine, equally large, was already set up and emitting an occasional burp and chuckle.
"'A lot'? This is just the backup supply." He hoisted the machine onto one of the tables, amidst some pamphlets; Carter eyed the pamphlets, but made no move to take one; instead, he went and sat down in one of the folding chairs near the back, with a last bemused glimpse over his shoulder at the coffee guy, and tried to settle himself in; he glimpsed the brown back of a head, a few rows ahead of him, that looked vaguely familiar, and he craned to try to get a better look. As if sensing his regard, the head turned, and he could see that it was, indeed, Abby. She did a slight double-take, then smiled and lifted a hand in greeting.
After the meeting, as the room was gradually emptying out and the people leaving eddied around the few people who'd stayed behind to chat, she caught up to him. "I'm surprised to see you here." He shrugged slightly.
"Well, I remembered you'd mentioned this one, and I thought--"
"No, I mean, I thought you'd... uh... had a problem with narcotics. I guess I assumed that you'd be doing NA meetings. Which, now that I say it, is kinda dumb, isn't it?" She laughed self-consciously, and he shook his head, grinning slightly.
"Nah." They left the church; Carter opened the door for Abby, and she stepped outside after a moment of surprised hesitation - Richard had never really seen a need to open doors for her. He'd claimed that it was because she was a "liberated woman"... she'd accepted the explanation because it had seemed like a compliment at the time.
"Ah. So you've got your meeting with Dr Greene and Dr Weaver today?"
"Yep. In just a couple of hours, so... wish me luck."
"Mm. Uh-huh. I hope it goes well."
"Thanks. Hey, how's it going with your surgery rotation?" Abby groaned.
"Ohhh... not as bad as before. I'm still gonna be glad when it's over, but... it has been interesting, so far."
"Yeah? Have you managed to scrub in on a surgery yet?" Her face lit up.
"Oh! Yeah, I got to scrub in on an adrenalectomy. I didn't actually get to do anything, but it was kinda neat." She casually glanced at her watch, then did a double-take and yiped. "Damn. I need to get going. I'll see you later, then." She crinkled at him, and hurried off to her car. Carter watched her get into the SUV, then turned and got into his Jeep.
* * *
"You-know-who," Doris announced, as the procession took Mr Fletcher to a curtain area and got him transferred to a bed. "Missed his dialysis again, and now he's fluid-overloaded. Again."
"Smart-ass little girl," Fletcher grouched at her, and she rolled her eyes - it was patients like this guy who made her wonder if she might not have been better off sticking with the receptionist's job she'd ditched ten years ago to become a paramedic.
"Here ya go, and welcome to him," Doris muttered, and left. Kerry put on a pair of gloves, and prepared to examine him before setting him up for dialysis.
"Well... Mr Fletcher. Back again?" Luka had made himself scarce the moment he'd heard that Mr Fletcher was being brought in; Fletcher had been one of the candidates for that new kidney, back in April, and Luka had found him to be an absolute pain in the ass. She believed him, though, when he said he'd been perfectly polite to the man... he has the patience to put up with me, after all, she thought morosely - of course he can handle someone like Mr Fletcher! She suspected, though, that Luka would respond to that observation with some quip about how she looked much nicer in her underwear than Fletcher would. Then he'd kiss her... maybe try to unbutton her blouse - he was a good man, and would never force himself on her, but he could be pretty darned relentless at times!
"You again?" The elderly man glared at her, and she glared back.
"Believe me, Mr Fletcher, I'm not enjoying this, either." She muttered the words under her breath, though, and instead settled for a breezy, "Missed your dialysis again, huh?" He grumbled at her again.
"Had better things to do."
"Ah, I see. So you decided to wait, and come down here, instead. Hurray." Just then, her belt began beeping, and she glanced down at her pager - hallelujah, saved by the page! She grabbed the first doctor she saw - well, okay, Cleo was a pediatrician, but a pediatrician could get Fletcher admitted, at least - and headed for the elevator, snapping her gloves off almost gleefully.
* * *
Carter watched the numbers light up one at a time. The thought of his upcoming meeting with Mark and Kerry was a little scary, and his back twinged a little - he absently reached back and rubbed at the scar tissue where the knife had punched into his back and through his kidney and intestines... twice. And then there was the scar tissue on his belly, where Dr Benton and Dr Anspaugh had worked on him for hours. It was--
The bell dinged as the elevator car jolted to a stop, and Carter took a deep breath and blew it out just before the doors opened and he stepped out. Shirley was pursuing Dr Benton - who was carrying Reese - with a stack of forms that she seemed to want him to sign; they saw Carter, and stopped what they'd been doing.
"Hi, Dr Benton." Carter smiled weakly at his former teacher; the last time they'd seen each other, he'd been solidly in the grip of withdrawal - shaking, shivering, quivering with nausea, with his stomach struggling to reject the glass of ginger ale he'd managed to force down on the plane - and still burning with shame over having thrown that wild punch after Benton's jibe about Chase. He'd almost been glad that the riot at the hospital had prevented Benton from picking him up from the airport.
"Carter. How're you doing, man?" He shifted Reese to his other hip, to shake Carter's hand.
"Uh... I'm better than before. Wow, Reese is getting so big!" Carter managed to deflect Benton's attention with the compliment; like any proud papa, Benton beamed at his child and at the source of the compliment.
"So are you back to work?"
"Hm? Oh, no. I have a meeting with Mark and Kerry in a couple of minutes." Benton nodded; he'd been at that joke of an "intervention", and he'd delivered the kid to the rehab center himself, so he had a pretty good idea what kind of meeting it was.
"Uh-huh. Well, take care of yourself, Carter. See you later."
"Yep. Bye, Reese." Carter gave the little boy a "bye-bye" wave, and Benton nudged him gently.
"Can you say bye-bye?" Benton gave Reese a warm, private daddy-smile, and kissed the boy's little hand. "Say bye-bye, Reese. Bye-bye!" The boy turned to Carter, grinning, and returned the "bye-bye". Benton ruffled Reese's hair, and they left.
Carter watched them, smiling wistfully. He suspected that his parents hadn't known what to do with him... or Barbara, or even Bobby, when they were that age. It had been later, as the kids got older and more able to participate in the activities that Jack and Eleanor enjoyed, that they'd spent more time with their parents. Bobby had helped their father aboard the yacht until he became too sick to go anywhere, and then he and Barbara and John (Barbara, because she was a girl, and John, because he was still too little for the yacht) had helped their mother with her pursuits.
"Good to see you back, Dr Carter," Shirley told him, with a warm smile. "You're looking well."
"Thanks. It's good to be back." She clapped his shoulder affectionately - he was a good kid, and she missed him on the surgical service - and headed off in renewed pursuit of Benton. Carter watched her go, and idly rubbed the back of his neck.
* * *
"Glenda Walton, 53 years old. Friend found her down in the shower, called paramedics, but couldn't say how long she'd been unconscious. GCS 3-2-4." An anxious-looking older woman was trailing behind them; probably Ms Walton's health aide, Luka decided; she'd been able to tell them that the woman had a history of strokes, and that there were no close family members in town. Unfortunately, since there was no indication of how long ago this stroke had occurred, she wasn't a candidate for TPA treatment.
"All right. Let's bring her in here." Luka chose Trauma 2, and held up a hand when the woman tried to follow them in. "Please, wait out here. We need to examine Ms Walton."
* * *
Carter hadn't had much of a chance to speak with Kerry last week, when she and Luka had come over for that dinner-- well, that wasn't really true. He just hadn't made the time... he'd let Dr Kovac draw him aside, before the meal, to give him something... a reproduction of something the older man had called a "Vucedol dove". It was a strange little thing, looking more like a sculpture made by a child who'd never seen a live bird than an archaeological artifact, but he'd thanked Dr Kovac for it anyway; it had been drummed into him many times as he was growing up: when one received a gift, one must thank the giver sincerely... no matter what one's real feelings were about the gift. The "dove" now sat on top of his dresser... he'd wanted to put it away, on a shelf in his closet, out of sight, but somehow he couldn't.
And, getting the gift had meant that he had an excuse to leave the pre-dinner get-together, and go upstairs... far from the madding crowd. He'd set the dove on its dresser perch, and stared at the weird little quasi-headless thing for a long time. A dinosaur, perhaps, he'd thought, stroking its little tail contemplatively... a little cartoon brontosaurus. Except that they weren't called that anymore, were they? He'd been interrupted in the middle of searching his memory for the right name, by a request... nay, a demand that he get his butt back downstairs.
He was glad he'd got over his crush on Kerry long before he'd discovered that she was his aunt... to have still been in love with her at that point would have been, well, Wagnerian. God, that would make Dr Kovac his... uncle, if those two ever got married - he shook his head at the strangeness of the situation. Oh well... the Carter family had never been in any danger of being considering ordinary, or boring. Discovering that his boss was actually the grownup daughter that his grandmother had secretly borne and put up for adoption nearly forty years ago... well... that was just one more weird thing about this family; we're just a transvestite and a midget away from the Jerry Springer Show, he mused.
"John, we're ready for you." He was jerked out of his introspection by the sound of Kerry opening the door of the conference room and poking her head out to call to him.
He entered the room. Mark was already seated at the table, and gestured to a chair on the other side of the table. Carter took off his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair, before sitting down. Kerry sat down next to Mark, and opened a folder - she took out three sheets, and handed one to Carter and Mark. "Okay. This is the plan for your return to full duty. We're going to take this nice and slow - you'll work half-day shifts at first. No prescribing or administering narcotics or benzos, no traumas--"
"Carter," Mark broke in suddenly. "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this, come back so quickly? Maybe it would be better if you took some more time off." Kerry glanced over at him.
"That's why we're here today, Mark, setting up the guidelines for Carter's gradual return to full, active duty." Here we go again, she thought, treating everything that comes from me like it came from Satan himself.
"I realize that, Kerry," Mark said patiently, "but perhaps it would be in Carter's best interests to have some time off, now that he's back in Chicago, and readjust."
"No, I'm all right to return. Really," Carter reassured them.
There was a pitcher of water on the table, and several glasses; Kerry poured herself a glass, and sipped thoughtfully. "That's what this probationary period will tell us, John - whether you really are ready to return to full duty."
* * *
A young woman, just barely obviously pregnant, came in and went to the front desk. "Please... I'm having contractions, and it's much too early... please help me!" Randi glanced over the side of the desk at her, and dropped the magazine.
"Oh, oh, boy. Okay, hold on a minute." She got up and went for a wheelchair, then brought it over and helped the woman sit down in it. "Okay, okay, hang on a sec. I'll find someone to get you up to OB." She looked around, and spotted Dave, who was standing around bullshitting with Malik. "Dave! I need you to do me a big favor and get this lady up to OB."
"Huh? What is it?" Randi couldn't resist such an inviting straight line.
"It's the part of the hospital where the pregnant ladies go, but that's not important right now. She needs to get there." Dave made a face at her. "Oh, okay. She says she's having contractions--"
"It's too early!" the woman wailed. "I'm only about 22 weeks along!"
"Okay, okay. C'mon, ma'am." He grabbed the handles of the wheelchair, and set off for the elevators. Randi watched them go, and bit her lip anxiously... she hoped they'd be able to stop the contractions upstairs. And until Dave got her to OB, he could help the woman if there was any trouble.
* * *
Luka stepped out of the trauma room, and thought of something at the last minute; he paused, half-way out of the doorway.
"Conni, can you call someone down from Psych for a consult for Ms Walton?"
"What's going on?" The woman who'd come in with Glenda watched anxiously.
"Are you Ms Walton's nurse?" The woman shook her head. "And not a relative?" The woman shook her head again.
"She has a brother in Houston, but she's only seen him twice in the last ten years." Luka sighed.
"Listen. Ms, uh..."
"Judy. Judy Schulz." Judy glanced through the window at Glenda, wringing her hands slightly. If only she'd paid more attention when Glenda had complained of that headache this morning!
* * *
"--the size of a little doll, I tell ya!" Chen, who'd just entered the lounge, stared suspiciously at Dave, who'd finally returned from OB and was telling some story to a couple of the male nurses and one of the new interns, as he perched on the arm of the couch.
"What are you talking about, Dave?" He glanced up at her and smiled.
"Hey, Jing-Mei. I was just tellin' the guys about an interesting case. Pregnant woman, 22 weeks along, goes into labor while she's visitin' Chicago, right? I took her up to OB, and I figured I'd just drop her off and come right back down, but then her water broke and I got pulled in to assist." That was an overstatement, he knew, but hey... he had to blow his own horn, didn't he? "She delivers, and it's just this little thing. Tiny... but still obviously a little person." His voice was quiet, with just a little awe in it. "Just... like this small." He held his hands about eight inches apart, as though he was describing the size of a fish he'd caught, and totally missed the look of dismay on Jing-Mei's face.
"So it died?"
"Huh? Oh, it's a little boy. I think the mom - Regina Morgan, real nice lady by the way - named him 'Julian'. No, he's still alive, amazingly enough. But it's just a matter of time, at that stage of gestation. I think they're trying to track down a priest to baptize the- the little squirt. What's wrong, Jing-Mei?" He frowned, as the young woman burst into tears and fled the lounge, and turned to the others. "Was it something I said?" Malik snorted.
"It's always something you said, man!"
* * *
"We'll be doing random urine tests, which you'll be paying for, I expect you to attend ninety AA or NA meetings in the next 90 days--"
"Not a problem. I've already started going." Kerry checked off something on her sheet of paper.
"All right. That's good. Have you arranged for a sponsor yet?"
"Uh, no. I didn't really meet anyone there." That wasn't much of an excuse; his parents had taught him, through example, some of the finer points of shmoozing total strangers. But he'd felt too awkward with those people - he really didn't belong there - to talk to anybody. There'd been Abby, of course....
"You need to do that as soon as possible. Okay... and besides the State Caduceus meetings, the three of us will meet once a week, just to check in, and see how you're doing." She made another little checkmark, then bit her lip a little uneasily. "Also... I want you to start taking naltrexone. Fifty milligrams a day. It'll keep you from--"
"Naltrexone competitively binds to opiate receptors, thereby reversing or preventing the effects of narcotics." Carter recited the line. "It'll keep me from getting high, right?"
"That's right. We've already filled your first prescription for you," Mark said as he produced a vial with a label from the hospital's pharmacy, and handed it to Carter, who began to put it in his coat pocket-- and then hesitated when he realized that both Mark and Kerry were looking at him expectantly.
"You want me to take one now?"
"If you start today, then you'll be at therapeutic level in time to start back next week." Mark poured a glass of water and passed it to Carter, who took it, and then shook a small pill out of the vial and tossed it into his mouth, then drained the glass. He automatically opened up and showed Mark and Kerry his empty mouth, as he'd become accustomed to doing in Atlanta after taking a pill, but noticed their looks of discomfort.
"Uh... sorry." Kerry quirked a little smile at him.
"All right. We'll put you on the schedule for next Tuesday. Remember... very light duty, no traumas, and then later we'll try increasing your duties again, if that goes all right." Carter nodded.
"That sounds fair."
"Okay," she said, in an end-of-the-meeting tone of voice, "go ahead and sign your copy of the agreement - that'll indicate that we've gone over the current restrictions with you, and that you understand what's expected of you." He patted himself down for a pen, and Kerry calmly handed him one. "And then we'll witness it." He read the agreement quickly and signed it, then returned it to Kerry - she quickly signed it, then passed the paper over to Mark. He signed it, and Kerry put the signed copy in the folder she had. Carter got up, and began to retrieve his jacket, but paused.
"That's everything?"
"Unless you have any further questions for either of us."
"No, no... not really."
"Okay, then. We'll see you next Tuesday morning." Carter nodded, and Mark and Kerry watched him leave, his jacket draped over his arm in an eerie echo of that tense evening back in May.
"You really think he's ready to come back?" Kerry turned at Mark's question.
"I was there when you assured him, back in May, that we'd support him. Have you changed your mind about that?"
"Of course I haven't, Kerry. You know that. I just... wonder if he's coming back to work a little prematurely." She smiled bitterly.
"You didn't seem to think so when he came back the first time."
"Neither did you," he shot back.
"No, I didn't," she admitted softly. "And we were both wrong."
"So which of us is wrong this time, Kerry? Do you really want to find out you were wrong after he has a relapse and does manage to kill a patient? By then, it'll be too late to do anything."
"Okay, and how long do you propose we sideline him, keep him away from patients? You tried that with Jeanie, as I recall--" He sniffed, and shook his head.
"So we're back to that?"
"Why not? You went into her confidential records--"
"And how many times has Dr Kovac violated some official policy? Or doesn't that count, since you're sleeping with him?"
"I- I don't know what you mean," she protested weakly, but Mark just laughed humorlessly.
"No, I suppose you don't," he snipped at her. "Excuse me. I have to go downstairs and start seeing to patients." He walked out of the room, leaving Kerry there to think.
* * *
Chen worked on coding charts in an exam room, snuffling and swiping at her eyes every few minutes. She'd just come back down from OB, where she'd completed a made-up errand and got a look at the Morgan baby. She'd had to elbow her way through the residents and students who were observing, but she'd seen it-- him. Just as tiny as Dave had said... just as tiny as-- well. She didn't see the face appear, for a moment, at the window in the door, through the blinds, and then move away, but jumped when Dr Weaver tapped on the door as she entered. "Um, hi Dr Weaver. Did, uh, did a casualty come in?"
"No. I heard you'd become upset about a case that came in earlier, and was sent upstairs." Jing-Mei sniffled and nodded, and Kerry leaned forward to touch her arm. "How far along are you?" Jing-Mei looked up, startled by Kerry's gentle words.
"What-- how?" She looked down again for a moment, then met Kerry's eyes again and the words began spilling out of her. "It... just happened, you know? It didn't seem real. I found out, and it was just 'huh, that's interesting', but I didn't want to think about it - just push it out of my mind until weeks went by... eight, then twelve, then twenty. It was abstract, you know, that I have this little baby growing inside of me, until I saw this premature baby, and he's... he's the same age as mine, a-and so tiny," Jing-Mei said softly, her voice threatening to break at any moment.
"Have you told your parents yet?" Kerry saw the other woman's teary eyes, and guessed that she hadn't.
"Dr Weaver, they'd kill me if they knew! It's bad enough that I've shamed them, but--" She cut off and wiped her eyes again, then tried to laugh; it came out as more of a sob.
"Do you know what you're going to do? You have options--" Jing-Mei put her hand over her belly in a protective gesture.
"No! I can't kill it! I can't!"
"I wasn't talking about an abortion, but I think it's safe to say that none of us would think any less of you, if you decided to do that." Jing-Mei relaxed slightly, but she was still tense and a little wary.
"That- that's right. You said you were adopted." Kerry nodded.
"Yes. And I know that there are a lot of couples out there who would be overjoyed by the gift that adopting your baby would be to them. It's something for you to think about, anyway. I can put you in touch with some people, if you like?" Jing-Mei snuffled again, and nodded.
"Please."
"Okay. Come see me later. In the meantime, why don't you head home and get some rest? You're close enough to the end of your shift, and it looks like you got a lot done with these charts."
"Thank you, Dr Weaver." She stood up, wobbling a little, and exited the exam room. Kerry watched her go, and sighed. First Carol, and now Jing-Mei. At least Carol and Doug had been trying for a pregnancy - she suspected that Jing-Mei's pregnancy had come as a complete and unwelcome surprise. As to who the father was... that wasn't any of Kerry's business, or the business of anybody but Jing-Mei and the father. It was a good thing that Luka had been the one to spot Jing-Mei in here, and had fetched her; she didn't want to think about what might have happened if someone else had been the first to come in this room.
* * *
Cleo paced for a little bit, outside of the curtain area, and then grabbed Peter when he came by. "I have a patient for you, Peter." He shook his head.
"Oh, no. I already heard you got stuck with Mr Fletcher... I don't want him!"
"Take him, Peter," she ordered, a little more sharply than she would have, otherwise - being around that guy really did not do wonders for her temper!
"What? No way. I have other things to do, Cleo."
"Oh, and I don't? In case you didn't realize it, I'm a pediatrician - he's just a little out of my age range - and I have pedes cases starting to stack up."
"He yelled into my stethoscope last time!" Cleo arched an eyebrow at his indignant objection.
"And he grabbed my ass, last time! Suck it up, big boy." She could tell he was wavering, and held back a little grin. Then she played her trump card - stretched up slightly, so she could whisper in his ear and tell him exactly how grateful she'd be if he'd take Mr Fletcher off her hands.
"Really? You, uh, you mean the dark blue one with all the lace and the slit up to--" She stroked his cheek.
"Mm-hm. That one. Exactly." He rolled his eyes, and sighed.
"Oh, all right. All right. Bring on the old geezer."
"Thank you, Peter."
* * *
"Ms Schulz. I can't give that kind of information to non-family. I'm sorry."
"But we are family, Dr Kovac." She gazed through the window at Glenda, who appeared to be sleeping peacefully. "We- we've been together for 27 years. That's longer than some people stay married. That's got to count, right?" Luka sighed, and rubbed his forehead.
"I-- let me consult the department chief."
* * *
Jing-Mei took off her stethoscope and hung it neatly on the hook in her locker, then put her labcoat on the hook with it and got out her coat and purse. She hesitated a moment, and put her hand on her belly, where she was just beginning to show; soon, not even baggy shirts and sweaters would hide the bulge. It just didn't seem real... even though she'd seen the baby on the ultrasound monitor and Dr Coburn had pointed to what she thought was "turtle sign", it had been nothing but a picture on a screen to her. She shut the door of her locker, glanced quickly out the window to make sure nobody was coming, then sagged back against the bank of lockers, letting the silent tears come again for a little while.
No... no, Jing-Mei, she scolded herself. You are going to be a pillar of strength and you are going to walk out of here and to your car before you start crying again.
She sniffled, then got a pair of sunglasses out of her purse - thank goodness the sun was out today! - and slipped them on her face so that her red and blotchy eyes didn't show. There. That was better. It was still pretty warm, though, so she didn't put her coat on... just tucked it under her arm and walked out of the lounge. On her way to the exit, though, she bumped into Dr Kovac. "Oh! I'm sorry, Dr Kovac," she murmured, as he took hold of her shoulders to keep her from losing balance.
"Not at all. You're in a bit of a rush, huh?" Jing-Mei smiled at his quiet, concerned tone. "You're not sick, I think, otherwise you wouldn't be on your way out of a hospital, but are you all right?" She nodded.
"I'm... I'm okay. I just need to go home early." He nodded, and put his arm around her shoulders to give her a friendly little squeeze. Neither of them saw Kerry emerging from the exam room where she'd spoken to Jing-Mei earlier - she watched the two of them, and frowned when Luka's arm went around Jing-Mei.
"Okay. Get some rest, take care of yourself, and we'll see you back here next time, eh?" Jing-Mei smiled, and nodded.
"Sure. Thanks, Dr Kovac."
"Any time, Jing-Mei." He turned slightly, and saw Kerry; Jing-Mei was instantly forgotten. "Ah! Kerry, I was looking for you. I need your help with a patient."
* * *
"Sats are still dropping, Dr Weaver." Kerry sighed at Conni's words, and looked at Judy, who was sitting at Glenda's side and stroking her hand gently.
"Ms Schulz, we may have to intubate, since Glenda is starting to get insufficient oxygen to her brain, due to the pneumonia. Do you know if Glenda has any advance directives regarding her medical care?"
"No, she doesn't."
"At any time, did she give you power of attorney to make decisions about her medical care?" Judy hesitated a long time, then reluctantly shook her head. "Ohhh... Conni, has Psych been down to see Glenda yet?"
"Yeah." The nurse handed Kerry the chart. "They said she wasn't oriented... she's not competent to make her own medical decisions."
"Does she have any family members? Ms Schulz, unless we can find someone legally empowered to request a DNR, we'll be obligated to intubate." Judy sighed.
"Her only living family member is a brother in Houston. But I don't think he'll be willing: when their father was dying, Glenda wanted to let him go peacefully, but Bob kicked up a fuss until their father was hooked up to all kinds of machines. He lasted for two weeks with a tube down his throat." Her gaze slid along Glenda, and Kerry wondered if she and Luka would ever be in that position.
At least they could legally marry, unlike these two women. Some of her friends were in the same position as these women - unable to legally celebrate their union - but then again, most of them had had the foresight to provide for each other with legal documents that allowed each other the powers that would be automatic with a simple ceremony for a man and woman.
"I'll need to call him anyway, Ms Schulz," Kerry said gently. "It's possible that he may have changed his mind in the meantime." Judy smiled humorlessly.
"I doubt it, but since you'd have to intubate even if you don't talk to him, you might as well." Kerry glanced at Luka for the first time since she'd entered the room with him - he looked upset, and about ready to burst something.
* * *
Benton groaned, wondering - once again - if an evening of Cleo modelling her very best lingerie for him was worth the hassle of dealing with Mr Fletcher. At least the guy would be admitted soon, and then he'd be out of their hair. As if on cue, a woman with dark hair pulled back into a severe style, and carrying a thick folder, approached him.
"You're Dr Benton?" She barely gave him a chance to nod. "I'm Maureen Conway, from the financial services office," she told him. "You're wanting to admit Julius Fletcher for... dialysis and a new shunt, is that correct?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Dr Benton, Mr Fletcher cannot be admitted. He sold his Medicare coverage to an HMO that went bankrupt - it hasn't paid any claims for the last nine months. In that time, Mr Fletcher has managed to pile up $200,000 worth of charges for services that could have been avoided - that's $200,000 that we'll never see."
"Look, his HMO, that's not his fault that it went under--" Conway made a facial expression that could have been an attempt at a smile.
"But it is his fault that he continuously skips his dialysis treatments to the point that - in this case - he needs surgery. You're to stabilize him, and then transfer him to another facility." Benton shook his head in disbelief.
"No way... that can't be right. Look, get Dr Romano down here, and see what can be done." Conway slanted him a "whatever" look, but nodded.
"Fine."
* * *
Romano came strutting into the department, looking around and surveying the nether regions of his realm; he took a moment to insult the motto on the t-shirt that a random stranger was wearing, and then he spotted Benton and Conway. "Ah... Peter, Peter, Peter. Always a delight. And how may I help you today?"
"I have a patient who needs dialysis and a new shunt, and Ms Conway is saying that I can't admit him."
"Really? Well, let's see what I can do about that." He reached for the thick folder that Maureen Conway was carrying, and leafed through it. "Oh, that guy. Yes. He's abusing the system, Peter. He misses his dialysis appointments because he can't be bothered to show up, and meanwhile he's been in here 28 times for renal failure because of that. Cut him loose." Benton stared at him, dumbfounded by what seemed like a new low for Romano.
"Dr Romano," he said quietly, "you haven't even seen the patient."
"Okay, let's go see the patient, then," Romano declared. The three of them - Conway wasn't about to let that folder out of her sight - trooped over to the curtain area, and Romano brusquely jerked the curtain open. "Mr Fletcher, I see you're back again." Fletcher looked up, and looked even less pleased to see Romano than he'd been to see Kerry.
"What do you want?" he grumbled. "Oh, it's you again. Come on, then, poke and prod me, that's what you damned surgeons always want to do, right? Damned little frog, is what you are."
"Uh-huh," Romano said casually, but careful observation revealed the tensed muscle in his jaw and the simmering anger in his voice. "Can I talk to you elsewhere, Peter?" They walked away from Fletcher, and Romano turned to face Benton. "Get him outa here."
"Dr Romano, you can't just--"
"I can, and I am." He reached into his pocket, brought out his wallet, and handed Benton a twenty-dollar bill.
"What's this for?"
"For Mr Fletcher's bus ticket to Milwaukee." He saw Benton's look of disbelief, and shook his head. "He's abused the system. Let him go up to... Milwaukee, and piss off a whole new set of doctors." He'd heard that Greene had interviewed for a job in Milwaukee a few years back... ah, if only that had worked out, Greene could be getting Fletcher dumped into his lap!
* * *
"Kerry..." He knew better than to try to use their relationship to make her change her mind - it wouldn't work, and he hadn't liked it when Carol had used what she knew about him in order to make an end-run around Kerry - but there had to be some way to make her see what was right.
"Would you excuse us, please, Ms Schulz?" Kerry escorted Luka into the other room before he could say something inappropriate in front of Judy.
"Kerry, they've been together 27 years! They are a couple. She hasn't seen her brother more than twice in the last ten years - he's only family by accident of birth."
"I agree with you. But unfortunately the law doesn't. If her sats drop below 80, and we don't hear otherwise from the brother, I want you to intubate her."
"No! If that's the way you want this case managed, then you manage it," he told her angrily, and walked away. She started to follow him, then changed her mind and returned to his - her - patient.
"I'm sorry," she told Judy, unsure whether she was apologizing more for Luka's behavior or for what she was probably going to have to do soon.
* * *
Benton sighed, as Romano walked away - what was wrong with that guy? He shook his head, and smiled. What wasn't wrong with Romano? Talented surgeon, but the guy had all the charm and bedside manner of a Rottweiler. True, he was sometimes a little brusque with people, but he thought he probably wasn't as bad as he'd been before. He thought he had certainly softened up since Reese was born - there was something about being responsible for another little life that could have that kind of effect on a person.
"Let's go, Mr Fletcher." The man glared at him.
"Where we goin'?"
"You need a new shunt, so I'm taking you up to Surgery to do that." The man grunted, but didn't object.
It was when Benton had brought Fletcher up to Surgery on a gurney, though, that things started to get a little complicated. Shirley stopped him, shortly after he and Fletcher had emerged from the elevator. "Where are you going with him?"
"I'm taking Mr Fletcher to get him a new shunt. What's open?"
"For you, nothing. Dr Romano figured you'd try to bring him up here, and he told me that he'd fire me if I let you into an OR. I mean it." Benton sighed, and backed up. He happened to turn his head in the direction of the OR where Romano was elbow-deep in an aneurysm repair; Romano turned his head at the same time, caught Benton's eye, and freed up his right hand long enough to wag a scolding finger at Benton... a big bloody "nuh-uh, don't you even think it!"
* * *
The call finally came through - Glenda's brother had checked his messages, and found the one that Kerry had left. "Miss Weaver?"
"This is Dr Weaver, yes."
"Uh-huh. Whatever. This is Bob Walton - you left a message that my sister's in your emergency department." There was something about the man's drawl that had her back up - some Southern accents were very pleasant, and she didn't even mind the sound of a Texan accent. But there was a condescending undertone to this man's voice, combined with something she couldn't identify, that made her feel almost as though Bob Walton was somehow checking out her breasts via long-distance; she pulled her labcoat closed, without really thinking about it.
"That's right. Glenda appears to have had a stroke, and she has aspiration pneumonia." She glanced over at the unconscious woman. Judy was talking softly, and holding Glenda's hand. "Neurology has already been down," she said, more quietly, "and they don't believe that - given the injury to her brain indicated on the cat scan - there's any possibility of a meaningful recovery. The kindest thing to be done, at this point, would be to let her go, instead of submit her to invasive procedures."
"Kill Glenda? No. She may be a dyke, but she's still family. You do whatever you have to do to keep her alive."
"But is this what Glenda would have wanted? I understand that she was in favor of a quick, easy death, rather than something more protracted, with very little dignity."
"I suppose that girlfriend," he spat the word out, as if it was a curse, "of hers told you that?"
"Would you like to talk to her?" There was a surprised grunt from the other end of the line.
"Oh, no. That woman has done quite enough for my sister! You intubate her, put her on whatever machines are necessary to keep her alive, and that's final!"
"Mr Walton, have you ever had an endotracheal tube shoved u-- down your--" But he'd hung up, before she could finish. "I'm sorry," she repeated inadequately. Judy smiled thinly, and tried to blink away tears.
"It's no more than I expected from him. I suppose he has ideas about 'saving her soul' at the last minute."
"I wish there was some other way." Judy gave her a teary smile that plainly said, please, leave us alone for a moment. Kerry nodded, and walked away, taking a moment to squeeze the woman's shoulder sympathetically on her way out.
* * *
Romano returned downstairs - he'd just got the message from his secretary that the woman was waiting for him... poking around and sticking her nose where it didn't belong. Malucci was the first person he saw.
"Hey. Malatucci. Have you seen an OIG officer snooping around down here?" The resident thought for a moment, and Romano could almost swear he heard the creaking of rusty gears.
"Short battleaxe with no sense of humor?" Romano nodded, and Malucci shrugged. "Yeah. She's over there." He pointed in the direction of the curtain area where Fletcher was still taking up a bed, even though Romano had told Benton to cut the guy loose. Great. Oh... and even worse: a woman with very short hair - probably a dyke, Romano thought sourly - was talking to Fletcher.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked, as he strolled in that direction and determinedly put on his "I'm a helluva great guy!" façade.
She looked up from Fletcher, and didn't even smile at him. "Sandy Walker, Medicare compliance officer. I got an anonymous call that there was a problem with a possible EMTALA violation with Mr Fletcher. Please tell me you don't have a policy of transferring patients who don't pay." Romano affected an expression of indignant surprise... shit! As if he didn't know who that anonymous call had come from. Son of a bitch.
"That's ridiculous, Ms Walker. This is a county hospital, we treat everybody, regardless of their ability to pay! In fact," he continued, unsure whether or not Walker was buying his story, "I just came down to personallyget Mr Fletcher and take him upstairs myself, now that we have an OR ready for him." Walker bared her teeth at him.
"Marvelous. In that case, you won't mind if I audit all of your patients for the last month."
"Be my guest, Ms Walker. I have nothing to hide! Ready to go, Mr Fletcher?"
"Yeah, yeah," the man grumbled.
Romano dropped his "helluva nice guy" mask the second that he, Benton and Fletcher had reached the elevator. "Tell me you didn't," Romano hissed, but Benton stood firm.
"What you did was wrong, Dr Romano." Romano shot him a glare that was filled with so much venom that he instinctively backed off a couple of steps.
"Don't. You. Say. Another. Fucking. Word." Romano got out between clenched teeth. And of course Fletcher had to throw in his two cents on the matter.
"Am I gonna have a scar from this? I don't want a big scar on my gut, 'cause--"
"Shut up!" Romano snarled at him.
* * *
Kerry got Glenda transferred up to the ICU, then went in search of Luka. She found him outside, crouched on a concrete bumper and sucking on a cigarette. "I'm sorry," he told her, without turning around. "I just couldn't do it."
"I know it was difficult for you--" she began, but he cut in.
"It's not just that," he insisted. "I want to give you power of attorney, in case I'm ever in that sort of situation. It really scared me." He was hesitant to ask her to reciprocate... hell, he was hesitant to ask her to do what would make power of attorney unnecessary! He wanted to... but he was afraid. Afraid she might say no... or that she might say yes, but he'd lose her. He sighed - it was starting to get close to November again: it had always been a rough time of the year for him, even before Vukovar. Marko had been born in late November, and Danijela had liked to joke that Luka was the only man she'd ever known with post-partum depression.
"If that's what you want to do. I'll give you the same - now that I have biological family, who would be able to make those decisions for me otherwise, even though I don't know them and they don't know me."
"You and your... your mother have spoken again recently?"
"Yeah. She... well, I'm not really sure what she expects from me. I've already offered to waive any claim on the name and the money." He smiled, and took another drag off the cigarette.
"That's fine with me - I don't want anybody thinking, even for a moment, that the money is why I'm with you. "
"I know that's not why you're with me."
"I know." He sighed, then finished off the cigarette and stubbed it out, before shredding the remains of the butt and crumpling the paper in his hand. When he caught her staring, he laughed softly.
"I thought you quit."
"Yeah, so did I. I was so stressed, though, that I came out here and begged one from the first person I saw. Several years, and it all went away like that.
"Luka." Her voice was quiet, and he looked up at her. "I'm not happy that you refused to intubate Ms Walton. But at least you did hand her off to me, rather than cover up that you were refusing to do it."
"I still don't think it was right," he told her stubbornly.
"Neither do I, Luka. But she knew she had a medical problem - that there was a chance that the issue could come up - and she didn't give her partner power of attorney." She put her hand on his head, even though there was the risk that somebody could come out at any moment and see them. His hair was so thick and silky, though, that she couldn't resist... and she really wanted to comfort him, as upset as he seemed to be. She was still a little shaken by what Mark had said to her, earlier, though... what he'd implied. "You haven't spoken to anyone about... us, have you?" He thought about it for a moment.
"No. I haven't." Technically, that was true; he hadn't been the one who initiated any of the conversations. He knew that was hairsplitting on a grand scale, but he also knew that it would upset Kerry to learn that some of their coworkers had figured out, all on their own, that they were a couple. He took advantage of her willingness to touch him, though, and reached up to squeeze her hand quickly and briefly. "Kerry, I love you. It's driving me crazy to keep quiet about us, but I'll do it as long as you want."
She kept hold of his hand, when he would have retrieved it, and kissed it. "I know you love me. I'm really trying, you know, to reach a point that I feel comfortable being open about us."
"Just so that point comes at some time before our children have graduated from high school." He chuckled, and Kerry smacked him gently.
"You can be such a jerk sometimes, have I mentioned that?"
"A time or two," he acknowledged a little smugly, and she groaned.
"Whenever you'd like to join the rest of us inside, Dr Kovac." She couldn't hold back her laugh, though.
* * *
Abby followed Dr Benton around with her little notebook, writing down everything he told her. Carter was right... the man was incredibly demanding, but she was learning a lot. Even though she had no intention of specializing in surgery, he was teaching her so much about medicine in general, and surgery in particular... which would be handy in whatever specialty she wound up deciding to pursue.
"And... pick up the labs - all of them - on the Sanders kid, and put them in his chart."
"I've already done that, Dr Benton."
"You did? How's his calcium level?"
"Well within normal limits." He laughed softly, and made a little shooing motion with his hand.
"Okay, get outta here. See you tomorrow, bright and early."
"Yes, Dr Benton. Thank you," she said hurriedly, as she rushed into the locker room and changed out of her scrubs - it seemed so strange to be going around in blue scrubs, instead of the pink that she was used to wearing - and back into her street clothes. She grabbed her backpack out of the locker and draped her coat over her arm - she'd throw it on, once she was downstairs, at the stop, but for now she had to hurry! She tossed a quick wave to the nurses she passed on her way to the elevators; she lucked out, and a downward-bound car was just arriving as she got there. Ding, shwurmp, and she was aboard; she checked her watch hastily. Good, there might still be time to make it.
The elevator finally stopped at the ground floor, and she raced off it, and outside... just as the bus she'd wanted sped by. "Dammit!" she muttered, barely refraining from stamping her foot like some petulant child. "Damn, damn, damn!" She shook her head, and smiled sadly. Oh, well. She'd go across the street, and have some coffee and a smoke while she waited for the next bus. She decided against putting on her jacket - she was just going to be outside for a couple of minutes, after all - and was soon strolling through the door of Doc Magoo's. She stepped up to the counter and ordered a large coffee.
"Abby?" She turned, and was startled to see Carter sitting at a booth by the window. He indicated the seat across from himself with an eyebrow raised in query, and she flopped down in it thankfully; she couldn't think of the last time she'd managed to get off her feet since lunchtime, which seemed like it had been ages ago.
"Hi! Are you camping out here until next week?"
"Nah. I have a meeting in about an hour, so I figured I might as well wait it out here and get some reading done." She nodded.
"Yeah. I just missed my bus, so I have about..." she checked her watch, "twenty minutes until the next one."
"Bus? I thought you had--"
"My car? Yeah. I took it home at lunchtime. I usually don't even run it most of the time, except when I have to get somewhere in a big hurry... like I did this morning. Usually I take the bus or the El. Thanks," she said, as the waitress brought her the coffee.
"I've got it," Carter told the waitress. "Look, why don't you stick around and keep me company for a while? The meeting's not that long, I could give you a ride home afterwards. Uh, unless you have to get home, of course." Abby shrugged.
"I dunno. I have a lot of reading to do tonight - the perils of getting Dr Benton as a teacher." She eyed the lit cigarette in his hand, almost hungrily. "Do you mind if I have some of that?" He shrugged and passed it to her.
"Go ahead and have the whole thing." He watched her inhale the smoke, a nearly-rapturous look gradually coming across her face, and mused at how... sexual the act of smoking a cigarette could be. He'd heard of pornographic movies - one of the ones that fell into one of the many specific niches of fetish - that involved beautiful women smoking cigarettes for the camera; the way Abby half-closed her eyes when she inhaled, and then closed them the rest of the way when she blew the smoke back out... there was something about it that made him wonder if maybe she also looked like that when she was on the verge of an orgasm.
"Oh, I needed that," she sighed. "At least when I was a nurse, I could take breaks occasionally and go outside for a smoke. Chasing after Benton all day... well, you know all about that, right?"
"Yep. That's still going all right?"
"Yeah. One thing's for sure - the best way to keep fit is to be Dr Benton's student." Carter laughed.
"No arguments here." He hesitated a moment. "You said you've been sober for five years, right?" She paused as she was lifting the coffee cup to her lips, and gave him a long, wary look - she knew that tone of voice. It was the tone of voice of somebody who was going to ask her for a favor, and she wasn't sure whether or not a favor was something she could handle at this point.
"Yeah, that's right. Why?"
"So you could sponsor somebody, if you wanted to, right?" He tried to keep his tone casual, but the eagerness was leaking out around the edges, and spilling over.
"I could. I've never sponsored anybody before, though." She shot him a surprised look. "You don't mean you want me to be your sponsor, do you?" He shrugged.
"Why not? We work toget--"
"Why not?! Male-female sponsoring is strongly discouraged in AA. Besides, I have a hard enough time keeping my own shit together, let alone helping someone else keep it together! I can't."
"Oh, c'mon, Abby," he pleaded. He'd been told that he had "puppy-dog eyes", and now he cranked it up. "I need a sponsor, and I didn't meet anybody at that meeting. You and the coffee guy were the only two people who talked to me." Abby smirked at him.
"Well, there was the guy who told you to... how did he put it? 'Get your feet the fuck off my chair'?" Carter blushed, and Abby whooped with laughter at his embarrassment. "Okay, okay. All right. I'll be your sponsor... temporarily. I'll introduce you around at the next meeting we attend together, and see if we can't get you set up with somebody on a more permanent basis. You probably won't want to ask 'Fuck-feet' to do it, though." The impromptu nickname sent her off into another round of laughter, until she began to cough. "Oh, my. Well, if I'm going to be your sponsor, I suppose I should set a good example, shouldn't I? Start with this." She held up the cigarette, and stubbed it out with a flourish. And now, I'm gonna splurge, with a hot fudge sundae. And you should order one too, so I don't feel alone in my splurginess." He chuckled.
"'Splurginess'? Is that even a word?"
"It is now," she said loftily. "C'mon...." He shook his head, although she suspected that he was thinking about it.
"Oh, I don't know. I think I already have too many vices, as it is."
"We'll get two spoons, then," she said firmly. "C'mon. As my second act as your sponsor, I hereby order you to be... splurgy right along with me." She deliberately used the neologism again, so that he'd laugh again - he had a pleasant laugh! - and he didn't disappoint her.
"All right. One sundae, two spoons. And then you'll let me give you a ride home." She'd just given her order to the waitress, and turned back toward him enquiringly. "If I'm not mistaken, that was your bus that just went by." She sighed.
"Great. Well, I have some reading material in my pack, so at least I have something to keep me busy while you're in your meeting." Carter nodded, very pleased with himself for his double coup.
"Hey, has Dr Benton showed you how to make one-handed knots yet? 'Cause I can show you sometime, if you like." Abby giggled.
"Migod, that sounds like the kind of pick-up line that Dave would try to use!"
"Now, that is not a nice thing to say!" he pretended
to scold, and nearly took her hand. Whoa, John, he reminded himself
before he actually made physical contact with her. So many
things wrong with this picture - she's a student, she's your sponsor,
she's not even blonde!
POST-OPERATIVE NOTES: