[Gina Mazzio RN 01.0 - 03.0] Bone Set

by JJ Lamb

  She walked up to him and rested her hand on his shoulder. “Trying to protect other people is usually a pretty thankless job.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “People don't like you assuming that you know what's best for them.”

  “You always have some dumb answer for me, don't you?”

  “That's right, kid—good questions, dumb answers.”

  * * *

  Gina was jittery. It was the kind of uneasiness that comes from thinking and rethinking every action you take—something like how you feel if you concentrate on watching your legs when running down the stairs. Since almost being trapped last night, trying to focus on any one thing had been near impossible. Her mind jumped from one thought to another, even while caring for her patients.

  What would have happened if Harry hadn't shown up? She asked herself that over and over and over.

  And why would anyone in the hospital want to hurt her?

  The bigger question was, who?

  She tried to clear her head as she walked into the nurses' station, carrying Vinnie's throat culture. Helen was at the computer terminal checking lab values, a frown on her face.

  “Have you seen Kessler this morning?” Gina asked, tossing the culture into a cylinder to be vacuum-tubed to the lab.

  “Not yet, but I had to beep him. Deana Oldham's turning sour. He'll be here soon.”

  Gina rested a hand on Helen's shoulder. “I'm sorry. I know how fond you are of Deana.”

  “Hey,” Helen said, flicking away a tear. “They all love us and leave us one way or another. Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing here. Maybe I ought to write a book instead, let everyone know the kind of stress nurses—”

  Gina put an arm around Helen and hugged her.

  Helen sucked in her stomach and stood a little taller, smiled at Gina. “Maybe sometimes I do wonder what I'm doing here, but not today. Today, I'm all right ... and Deana will be all right, too. It's just a small setback.”

  “I'm worried about Vinnie, also.”Gina took Helen's place at the terminal and brought up Vinnie's blood values. “The kid's neutropenic. The last thing he needs is an infection. He's going to need that marrow as soon as possible.”

  “Not until Kessler clears up the Chapman business.”

  Gina took Helen's hand and led her into the medication room, looked around quickly, and said,” I sneaked into Pathology last night, took a look at Chapman's autopsy report.”

  Helen's mouth dropped open. “Are you crazy, Gina? Vasquez is going to eviscerate you if he finds out.”

  “What our administrator doesn't know won't hurt him.” She squeezed Helen's hand. “I really had to know.”

  “So, what did you find out?”

  “Chapman had septicemia ... overwhelmed by GI pathogens.”

  “Not too surprising,” Helen said. “E. Coli?”

  “Yeah. That and the whole coliform spectrum. But in tremendous numbers, unbelievable numbers. He never stood a chance, poor guy.”

  Mark Kessler stuck his head through the door, interrupting their conversation. “Fill me in on Deana, will you, Helen?”

  Helen started rattling off the patient's latest lab values as she left the room and started toward the computer terminal.

  “Mark?” Gina said, following them into the nurses' station. “When you finish with Deana, I need to talk to you about Vinnie Capello.”

  Kessler's eyes rolled to the ceiling. “For Christ's sake, not him too?”

  Chapter 25

  “I don't understand,” Gary Bernstein said, glaring at Alan Vasquez and Mark Kessler from the edge of Tracy's bed. He'd left her side only once since returning, and then just long enough to rush home for a shower and change of clothes. While now more comfortable in his customary corduroy jacket and faded denims, the nerve-wracking tension remained.

  “Yesterday,” Gary continued,” you canceled Tracy's engraftment on some flimsy pretext. Now, you're saying it may be yet another twenty-four hours before you can proceed.”

  “I thought Dr. Kessler explained the situation to the both of you,” Vasquez said. He looked expectantly from Gary to Kessler, then nervously stretched his neck inside his collar and adjusted his tie.

  The doctor crimped his lower lip between thumb and forefinger, pulled at it, and said to Gary,” Whatever I said or didn't say, I'm doing what I think is best for Tracy.”

  “That's still not an explanation,” Gary growled. “Before, we were merely informed that there was some kind of procedural delay. Now the two of you are giving us a bunch of double talk, trying to delay everything another twenty- four hours.”

  “I think you misunderstand, Mr. Bernstein—our primary concern is always the safety of the patient,” Vasquez said, nodding toward Tracy. He looked to Kessler for help, received only a noncommittal stare.

  “Stop giving me this public relations mumbo-jumbo,” Gary said, taking Tracy's hand. “Dr. Kessler has repeatedly emphasized that the timing of Tracy's engraftment is critical. Suddenly, you're playing games with us, apparently stalling for time.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, still sore from being kneed in the kidney.

  “I felt the delay was necessary, and wouldn't significantly alter her prognosis,” Kessler said.

  “There seems to be a damn serious conflict of priorities working here, gentlemen.”

  Behind the anger, Gary was terrified. He wanted to confront Vasquez and Kessler—ask them point blank whether or not Tracy's marrow was where it was supposed to be. But he knew he couldn't risk that. What if they said no? In front of Tracy? It would destroy her. He looked down at her and was alarmed by her gauntness, her lack of vitality.

  “I'm not sure what you are accusing us of,” Vasquez said.

  Instead of responding, Gary squeezed Tracy's hand, felt her return the pressure.

  “Does this delay have anything to do with the man who died the other day?” Tracy asked, suddenly coming out of her silence.

  Vasquez' eyebrows shot up; Kessler gave the barest nod, as if confirming something to himself.

  “I'm sorry,” Vasquez said,” it's against the hospital's confidentiality policy to publicly discuss—”

  “I'm not the public,” Tracy snapped. “I think I have a right to know.”

  Kessler started to say something, but was interrupted when Gina Mazzio entered the room, carrying a small tray of medications.

  “Could you come back in a few minutes, nurse?” Vasquez said, more an order than a request.

  “It's time for Tracy's meds,” Gina said.

  “Can't they wait a few minutes?” Vasquez asked irritably.

  “The meds should be given as scheduled,” Kessler interrupted, over-ruling Vasquez.

  Gina looked from Vasquez to Kessler, and frowned. “Is there some kind of problem?”

  “No,” Tracy said. “And as long as you're here,” she added,” I'd like you to stay.” She gently touched her headscarf with her fingertips.

  “I'm sure Nurse Mazzio has other duties that require her attention,” Vasquez said.

  “I want her here,” Tracy insisted, motioning for Gina to bring her medicine to her. “Gary and I need someone we can trust.”

  Vasquez opened his mouth, but Tracy impatiently waved him quiet. “Now, will one of you please tell me the specific reason for delaying my transfusion?”

  “The delay,” Kessler said,” resulted from a sudden and so far unexplainable bacterial infection in the patient you were concerned about.” He moved around and sat down on the side of the bed opposite Gary.

  “What does that have to do with me?” Tracy asked.

  “Probably nothing, particularly since it occurred prior to his engraftment.”

  “Was there any problem with his marrow,” Tracy continued,” any problem directly related to his death?”

  “None whatsoever,” Kessler said.

  “So his transfusion was never delayed, for any reason?” Tracy asked Gina, ignoring Kessler.

  “Absolutely not!�
�� Vasquez said, intercepting the question.”

  Gary sat down on the other side of the bed and asked Kessler,” Is there any specific reason now why Tracy can't have her marrow?”

  “Hospital policy—”

  “We originally stopped all invasive procedures throughout the unit,” Kessler said, cutting off the administrator's protest. “We then conducted a thorough investigation to make certain the bacterial infection wasn't something more than an isolated incident. We wanted to forestall any possibility of general bacterial contamination.”

  “And?” Tracy demanded.

  “So far, we've found nothing. The final step in our investigation was to test your marrow.”

  “Do you know the results?” she asked nervously.

  “It tested negative, I'm pleased to report.”

  “Then there's really no reason why you can't proceed, is there?” Gary said.

  “No, it's all been a matter of taking the appropriate precautions,” Kessler assured him, then said to Tracy,” I've rescheduled your engraftment for two o'clock this afternoon.” He turned to the others: “Now, I think we should leave Tracy alone so she can get some rest.”

  “Other questions?” Vasquez asked.

  When there was no other comment, the administrator took a moment to silently, but pointedly, reestablish his displeasure with Gina by scowling at her, then quickly preceded Kessler out of the room.

  * * *

  Gina lingered in Tracy's room after Kessler and Vasquez had departed, fussing with this and that. She knew Tracy's marrow had been missing, but she couldn't prove it unless one of the Bernsteins was willing to confirm it.

  But they were only involved with each other. As she quietly left the room, they were holding hands, their foreheads touching.

  “What's with all the high-level activity down in the Bernstein suite?” Helen asked when Gina returned to the station.

  “All I know is that the engraftment is on again—two o'clock this afternoon.”

  “What was Vasquez doing there?”

  “Who knows why administrators do anything.”

  “So Mark changed his mind about the engraftment?”

  Gina nodded. “I think he finally realized he was over-protecting Tracy. In any case, I'm happy to say she seems to have gotten over her antagonism toward me.”

  “Speaking of antagonistic patients, I couldn't find your teenage terror while you were pow-wowing with the high and mighty in Bernstein's room.”

  “Vinnie?”

  “Who else?”

  “He should be in his room,” Gina said. “He wasn't scheduled to be off the floor for any reason.” She checked his chart, though, to make certain. “Are you sure he wasn't hiding out in his john? He does that sometimes.”

  “The door was wide open; no Vinnie.”

  Gina thought for a moment. “Let's check around the unit.”

  “I already did that,” Helen said. “No one's seen him since morning rounds.”

  “Damn! I hope he hasn't gone off and done something stupid.”

  “Anything’s possible with that brat.”

  “He's got to be here. He promised me he would stick with the program.” She picked up the phone and called hospital security to request a facility-wide search, then took off on her own, checking every room, closet, and bathroom on the entire floor.

  When she finally came back to the nurses' station there were tears in her eyes. Helen looked at her questioningly, but she merely shook her head and sank down onto one of the station chairs. She called security again, listened to their negative report, and put in a call to Kessler to tell him that their teenage patient apparently had gone AWOL.

  Chapter 26

  Alan Vasquez paced back and forth in front of the nurses' station, even though the nurses' sidelong glances made it clear they wanted him to return to the administrative wing where he belonged.

  He moved away from the station to greet a middle-aged couple who stepped out of the elevator.

  “Are you the Capellos?” When they nodded, he introduced himself. “I'm sorry I don't have anything new to report about your son.” They eyed him suspiciously. “Perhaps it would be better if we went to my office so we can discuss this privately.”

  “Mr. Vasquez,” the man said,” I have no intention of leaving this floor until I know where my son is.”

  “I certainly understand how you and your wife must feel, Mr. Capello; and I want you to know we're doing everything humanly possible to find Vinnie.” He put a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder.

  Capello took a half step back, allowing Vasquez' hand to drop heavily. “No!” he shouted. “You don't have any idea how we feel.” He started to raise his fist, but his wife grasped his arm and held him back.

  “We want to wait in Vinnie's room ... where his things are,” Mrs. Capello interjected, pulling on her husband's arm.

  Capello planted his feet and refused to move. “If anything happens to my son, I'm going to hold you personally responsible—then we'll find out how much you understand.”

  Vasquez, chagrined, watched the couple disappear down the corridor.

  * * *

  Maria Capello was sitting on the edge of her son's bed, holding his well- worn Giants baseball cap in her hands when Gina entered. Tony Capello had his back to her, staring out the window, hands jammed into his pockets.

  “Wouldn't you be more comfortable waiting at home?” Gina asked, needing to say something, anything. She looked from one to the other. Finally, Mrs. Capello looked up and said:

  “We'll wait here.” She lowered her eyes and continued to work her fingers around the circumference of the baseball cap.

  It was close to noon when Gina again entered Vinnie's room. This time she went to Maria Capello's side and gently placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. “You really would be more comfortable in the hospitality room. There's coffee, tea—”

  Neither of the Capellos looked at her.

  “Look, I'm sorry to intrude, but it could be a while before we hear anything. The police are looking for him, and the media hotline has agreed to help.”

  “And they'll bring him back here when they find him?” Mrs. Capello finally asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then we'll wait here.” She still didn't look up.

  “But what if he goes home before someone finds him? Shouldn't one of you be there?”

  “My sister's at the house,” Mrs. Capello said. “I feel closer to Vinnie here.” She patted the bed lightly with the palm of one hand.

  Tony Capello, for the first time, turned away from the window. His skin was sallow, his eyes sunk deep within their sockets. Absently, he ran the fingers of both hands through his salt-and-pepper hair. His shifted uneasily in his jacket, shirt, and tie—his teaching clothes. He opened his mouth to speak but instead chewed on his lower lip.

  “Why?” he suddenly blurted out. “What could have gotten into him to do such a stupid thing?” He shook his head, shoved his hands back into his pockets and rattled his loose change to the beat of each word. “How could he just walk away like that? Irresponsible! Irresponsible and selfish!” He looked across the room at his wife as if expecting a confirmation from her.

  Maria Capello raised her head; her sorrowful eyes suddenly flashed in irritation. “Will you please stop jangling that money in your pocket, Anthony? Stop it! Please!” She glared fiercely at him; their eyes locked in battle for several seconds. Finally, she turned away and carefully put Vinnie's baseball cap on the pillow. She reached into her purse, withdrew a string of rosary beads, and began working them between thin, restless fingers.

  “I also wish I knew why he left,” Gina said to the father.

  Capello continued as though neither his wife nor Gina had spoken: “He knows how dangerous it is for him to be out there in his condition. Dr. Kessler told us even a minor infection could kill him...” His voice trailed away as he turned his back on both women and again stared out the window.

  “Did anything unusu
al happen today, something that would make Vinnie run away?” Mrs. Capello asked, looking up at Gina with widened eyes. “I know I'm asking the same questions over and over, but it's so unlike him to act this way.”

  “Vinnie's been upset ever since he checked in,” Gina said. “He didn't want to come back again, and every day has been an emotional roller coaster. But under the circumstances, it's not too surprising.”

  “Then explain it to me!” Tony Capello roared, turning away from the window, his hands extended, palms up. “I certainly don't understand any of it.”

  “Try to see it from his point of view—he thought he was cured the first time he came to the hospital. Having to come back while he was still feeling physically okay was hard to take. And what happens? We make him sick all over again. That's hard for anyone.”

  “But he's always been such a sensible boy,” Mrs. Capello said.

  “I don't think being sensible has anything to do with it,” Gina said. “He was angry when he got here, and he stayed that way right through this morning.” Gina reached over and gently touched the back of the woman's hand. “I tried to get him into counseling several times, but he wouldn't have any part of it.”

  “Yes, I know. We tried also,” Mrs. Capello said. “He wouldn't even discuss it.”

  Gina looked across the room and studied the calendar Vinnie had pinned to the wall, trying to find some message in the red Xs he'd drawn through each day. After a moment, she said,” I keep trying to think of what might have set him off, made him leave the hospital. He seemed pretty much himself this morning...” She hesitated. “Well, maybe a little sadder. He's usually pretty feisty, but today, it was more like ... resignation.”

  “And you didn't call us?” Capello accused, pointing a finger at her.

  “What would I have said? Vinnie's having a bad day? I'd be on the phone every day ... no ... two or three times a day. Besides, it didn't seem that unusual at the time.”

  Maria Capello slipped her hand from beneath Gina's and resumed working her rosary beads. “I feel like I'm responsible in some way. Maybe ... maybe it was our fault.” She looked up at her husband. “We should have waited for him to finish his senior year ... like he wanted. He pleaded with us. Now, it seems like such a small request.”