"Thank God!" Phil said.

And thank modern-day cardiac surgery, Kim mused. He bent over and examined the incision that ran down the center of Phil's chest. Gently Kim palpated the raised ridge of healing tissue with the tips of his fingers. By such observation and touch Kim could accurately tell the internal state of the wound.

"And the incision looks great," Kim added. He straightened up. "Well, as far as I'm concerned you can start training for the Boston Marathon."

"I don't think that's in my future," Phil joked. "But come spring I'll certainly be out on the links."

Kim gave the man a pat on the shoulder and then shook his hand. "Enjoy yourself," he said. "But remember to maintain the change we've made in your lifestyle."

"Don't worry about that," Phil said. "I read all the material you sent home with me. And I've taken it to heart. No more smoking for this fellow."

"And don't forget the diet and exercise," Kim added.

"Don't worry," Phil said. "I don't want to go through this again."

"Now, it wasn't that bad," Kim joked.

"No, but it was scary," Phil said.

Kim gave Phil another pat on the back, jotted a quick note on the chart, and left the examination room. He stepped across the hall to exam room B but noticed there was no waiting chart in the rack on the door.

"Mr. Norton was the last patient," Cheryl said from behind Kim.

Kim turned around and smiled at his office nurse. He ran a tired hand through his tussled hair. "Good," Kim said. "What time is it?"

"It's after seven," Cheryl said.

'Thanks for staying," Kim said.

"You're welcome," Cheryl said.

"I hope this chronic overtime doesn't cause you any trouble at home," Kim said.

"It's not a problem," Cheryl said. "I'm getting used to it and so is my husband. He knows now to pick my son up from day care.

Kim reversed direction and went into his private office. He collapsed into his desk chair and eyed the stack of phone messages he'd have to respond to before leaving. He rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted yet on edge. As per usual the stresses of the day had accumulated. He would have loved to play some tennis, and he vaguely thought about stopping in at the athletic club on his way home. Maybe he could at least use a StairMaster.

The door to his office opened and Ginger leaned in.

" Tracy just called," she said with an edge to her voice.

"What about?" Kim asked.

"She wouldn't say," Ginger reported. 'All she said was to have you call."

"Why are you upset?"

Ginger exhaled and shifted her weight. "She's just rude. I try to be nice and all. I even asked how Becky was."

"And what did she say?"

"She said just to have you call."

"Okay, thanks," Kim said. He picked up the phone and started to dial.

"I'm leaving for aerobics class," Ginger said.

With a wave, Kim acknowledged that he'd heard.

"Call me later," Ginger said.

Kim nodded. Ginger left and closed the door behind her. Then Tracy answered.

"What's up?" Kim asked with no preamble.

"Becky is worse," Tracy said.

"How so?"

"Her cramps are worse to the point of tears and there's blood in her diarrhea."

"What color?" Kim asked.

"For chrissake, what do you mean what color?" Tracy demanded.

"Bright red or dark?" Kim asked.

"Chartreuse," Tracy said impatiently.

"I'm serious," Kim said. "Bright red or dark red, almost brown?"

"Bright red," Tracy said.

"How much?"

"How am I to tell?" Tracy responded irritably. "It's blood, and it's red, and it's scary. Isn't that enough?"

"It's not so abnormal to have a little blood in diarrhea," Kim said.

"I don't like it," Tracy said.

"What do you want to do?"

"You're asking me?" Tracy questioned with disbelief. "Listen! You're the doctor, not me."

"Maybe I should try to call George Turner in Boston," Kim said.

"And what is he going to do a thousand-plus miles away?" Tracy complained. "I want her seen, and I want her seen tonight!"

"Okay, okay." Kim said. "Calm down!"

Kim paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. With George gone, he didn't have any handy contacts in pediatrics. He considered having one of his internal medicine acquaintances take a peek at Becky but was reluctant. It seemed excessive to call someone out at night because of mild diarrhea of a couple days' duration even if it were tinged with a small amount of bright red blood.

"I'll tell you what," Kim said. "Meet me over at the University Med Center emergency room."

"When?"

"When can you be there?" Kim asked.

"I guess in about a half hour," Tracy said.

"I'll see you then," Kim said.

Since he was only about ten minutes away from the hospital now that peak traffic time had passed, Kim used the intervening twenty minutes to return as many phone calls as he could. When he got to the emergency room, he discovered he'd still beat Tracy, so he stood out on the receiving dock and waited. While he stood there, several ambulances pulled up to the platform with their screaming sirens trailing off. Hurriedly the EMT's unloaded a couple of patients in dire need of emergency care. One of them was being given CPR. Kim watched them disappear inside, and it made him nostalgically recall his days as a surgical resident. Kim had worked hard and had been rewarded by being told repeatedly he was one of the best residents who had ever come through the program. It had been a heady time and in many ways more fulfilling than now.

Kim was just about to use his cell phone to try to contact Tracy when he saw Tracy 's Volvo station wagon round the corner and pull to a stop. Kim dropped to the pavement and trotted over to the car as the doors were being opened. He went directly to the passenger side and helped Becky. She smiled at him weakly as she got out.

"Are you okay, Pumpkin?" Kim asked.

"My cramps are worse," Becky said.

"Well, we'll get them taken care of," Kim said. He glanced at Tracy. who'd come around the car. Kim noticed she looked as irritated as she had the night before.

Kim led the way back to the platform and up the half dozen steps. He pushed open the swinging doors, and they entered.

As the major emergency room in a large, sprawling, Midwestern city. the unit was so jammed it looked like a busy, urban bus station. Monday nights tended to be particularly busy because of a leftover effect from the weekend.

With his arm around his daughter, Kim steered her through the throng in the anteroom where the main admitting desk was located and past the crowded waiting room. He was almost past the nurses' desk when an enormous, Brunhild-type nurse stepped out from behind the counter. Her bulk effectively blocked Kim from proceeding any further. Her name tag read: MOLLY MCFADDEN. Her height was such that she just about looked Kim in the eye.

"Sorry," Molly said. "You can't come in here on your own. You have to check in at the receiving desk."

Kim tried to push by, but Molly held her ground.

"Excuse me," Kim said. "I'm Dr. Reggis. I'm on the staff here, and I'm bringing my daughter in to be seen."

Molly gave a short laugh. "I don't care if you're Pope John whatever," she snorted. "Everyone, and I mean everyone, checks in at the front desk unless they're carried in here by the EMT's."

Kim was so shocked he was rendered momentarily speechless. He could not believe that not only wasn't he being deferred to, he was being openly challenged. Kim stared disbelievingly into the woman's defiant blue eyes. She seemed as formidable as a Sumo wrestler dressed in white. If she'd heard Kim identify himself as a member of the professional staff she gave no indication whatsoever.

"The sooner you check in, Doctor," Molly added, "the sooner the girl will be seen."

"You did hear me, didn't you?" Kim questioned. "I'm a senior attending in the department of cardiac surgery."