Eight

In the morning Cassi was up and dressed before she heard the alarm go off in the study. It kept ringing and ringing. Concerned, she ran down the hall and opened the door. Thomas was sprawled in his chair exactly as she had left him the night before.

“Thomas,” she said, shaking him.

“Wha-what?” he whispered.

“It’s quarter to six. Don’t you have surgery this morning?”

“I thought we were going to Ballantine’s party,” he muttered.

“Thomas, that was last night. Oh God, maybe you should call in sick. You never take a day off. Let me call Doris and see if she can postpone your operations.”

Thomas struggled to his feet. He swayed and steadied himself against the arm of the chair.

“No, I’m fine.” His voice was still slightly slurred. “And with the cutback on my OR time, I won’t be able to reschedule for weeks. Some of the patients this month have already waited too long.”

“Then let someone else…” Thomas raised his hand so quickly Cassi thought he was going to hit her, but instead he lunged into the bathroom, slamming the door. A few moments later she heard him turn on the shower. When he came downstairs he seemed in better shape. Probably because he had taken a couple of Dexedrines, thought Cassi.

He quickly drank juice and a cup of coffee and then headed for the garage.

“Even if I can get home tonight, I’ll be very late, so you better take your own car,” he said over his shoulder.

Cassi remained sitting at the kitchen table for a long time before she, too, began the long trip to the hospital. “For the first time,” she thought, “it’s not just Thomas I’m worried about. It’s his patients. I don’t know if it’s safe for him to operate anymore.”

By the time she reached Boston Memorial, Cassi had made up her mind to do three things the minute she was finished with team meeting. She would make an appointment to have her eye surgery, arrange to take the necessary time off, and she would see Dr. Ballantine and confide her fears about Thomas. After all, the problem affected the hospital as well as her marriage.

Joan noted Cassi’s preoccupation, but before she had a chance to ask any questions, at the end of the meeting Cassi said something about seeing her ophthalmologist and hurried off the floor.

Dr. Obermeyer interrupted his schedule the moment he heard Cassi had appeared. He came out of his inner office with his minerlike light still strapped to the top of his head.

“I trust you’ve come to the right decision?” he said.

Cassi nodded. “I’d like to be scheduled as soon as possible. In fact, the sooner the better before I have a chance to change my mind.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” said Dr. Obermeyer. “In fact, I took the liberty of scheduling you as a semi-emergency for the day after tomorrow. Is that all right with you?”

Cassi’s mouth went dry, but she nodded obediently.

“Perfect,” said Dr. Obermeyer with a smile. “Don’t you worry about a thing. We’ll take care of all the arrangements. You’ll be admitted to the hospital tomorrow.” Dr. Obermeyer buzzed for a secretary.

“How long will I be unable to work?” said Cassi softly. “I will have to say something to the chief of psychiatry.”

“That depends on what we find, but I’d guess a week to ten days.”

“That long?” said Cassi. She wondered what would happen to her patients.

Walking slowly back from the Professional Building, Cassi decided to phone Dr. Ballantine before her courage failed her. He answered the phone himself and assured her he had no surgery and could see her in half an hour.

After arranging to take sick leave, Cassi decided to kill the rest of the time before her interview with Ballantine by visiting pathology. She could tell Robert about her surgery, and just seeing him always gave her confidence. But when she reached his office, it was empty. One of the technicians told her that Robert was not due in at all. He was being admitted early that afternoon for oral surgery, and he’d decided to go out to eat what would probably be his last real meal for a week.

Cassi was back out at the elevator when she remembered Jeoffry Washington. Turning back into the lab, she asked the technician for the slides. The woman located Jeoffry Washington’s tray without difficulty but explained that only half the slides were finished. She said it took at least two days to do a case and suggested that Cassi come back the next day for the full set. Cassi said she understood, but was interested only in the H amp; E mounts of the vein, which were probably ready.

The slides Cassi wanted were available and, in fact, were the first slides she saw when she opened the tray. There were six in all, labeled LEFT BASILIC VEIN, H amp; E STAIN, followed by Jeoffry Washington’s autopsy number.

Cassi sat down at Robert’s microscope and, adjusting the eyepieces, focused on the first of the slides. There was a small collapsed ringed structure inside a smudge of pink tissue. Even under low power Cassi saw something strange. Looking closer, she identified multiple small white precipitates ringing the interior of the vein. Cassi then examined the walls of the vein. They looked completely normal. There was no infiltrate of inflammatory cells. Cassi wondered if the small white flakes had been introduced in the mounting process. There was no way to tell. She checked the rest of the slides and found the same precipitate in all but one.

Taking them back to the lab, Cassi showed them to the technician, who was also perplexed. Cassi decided to tell Robert the moment she found out his room number. Glancing at her watch, she realized it was time to see Ballantine.

He was having a sandwich at his desk and asked Cassi if his secretary could bring her something from the cafeteria. She shook her head. Given what she had to say, she wasn’t sure if she would ever want to eat again.

She began by apologizing for the scene Thomas had caused, but Dr. Ballantine cut her off and assured her that the party had been a great success and he doubted if anyone even remembered the incident. Cassi wished she could believe that; unfortunately she knew it was just the kind of scandalous scene that stayed in peoples’ minds.

“I’ve talked with Thomas several times this morning,” said Dr. Ballantine. “I happened to see him before surgery.”

“How did he seem?” asked Cassi. In her mind’s eye she could see Thomas unconscious in the leather armchair, then stumbling into the bathroom.

“Perfectly fine. Seemed to be in a good mood. I was pleased that everything was back to normal.”

To her dismay Cassi’s eyes filled with tears. She’d promised herself it wouldn’t happen.

“Now, now,” said Dr. Ballantine. “Everyone occasionally blows up under stress. Don’t place too much importance on last night’s incident. The way he’s been working, it’s entirely understandable. Maybe not excusable, but understandable. The house staff have even commented that he’s spending an unusual number of nights in the hospital. Tell me, my dear, has Thomas been acting normally at home?”

“No,” said Cassi, dropping her line of sight to her hands that lay immobile in her lap. Once she started talking, the words came out easily. She told Dr. Ballantine Thomas’s reaction to her proposed operation and confessed that their relationship had been strained for some time, but she didn’t think the cause was really her illness. Thomas had known she had diabetes before they were married, and, except for the eye problem, her condition had not changed. She didn’t think her medical complications explained Thomas’s anger.

She paused, beginning to perspire with anxiety.

“I think the real problem is that Thomas has been taking too many pills. I mean lots of people take an occasional Dexedrine or sleeping pill, but Thomas may be overdoing it.” She paused again, looking up at Ballantine.