[Gina Mazzio RN 01.0 - 03.0] Bone Set

by JJ Lamb

  There was a pause before Faye responded. “Uh, what do you need?”

  “Could you check the repository for me, make sure one of our patient's marrow is there?” She read off Vinnie Capello's hospital number.

  “I guess...”There was a longer pause. “Maybe we shouldn't—”

  “Listen, Faye, I don't want you to get into any trouble over this. If you can't do it, say so. I'll understand.”

  “Why do you need to know?”

  “I can't answer that right now.” She held her breath as she waited for Faye's answer.

  “Hold on for a moment.”

  “No, wait!” But Faye was gone and the infuriating music was back again.

  Gina stood there self-consciously twisting the telephone cord, afraid someone might enter the nurses’ station, overhear her conversation.

  Within a short time, Faye was back.

  “It's there, Gina.”

  * * *

  She needed time to think; so many questions. Gina tapped her fingers on the cafeteria table while she waited for Harry. She'd just taken a sip of iced tea when he came striding across the room; she smiled to see his hair flying in every direction. He saw her, waved, and smiled back. His eyes were so bright, so warm; she wondered again why she continued to avoid commitment.

  “Hi, beautiful,” he said, slipping into the chair next to her and reaching for her hand.

  “Thanks for coming.” Gina squeezed his hand. “You're the only one I can trust.”

  “Any news about the kid?”

  “Nothing.” She told him about the Capellos. “I don't know what to do,” she said. “I don't want to make things worse, but I can't stand by and let the kid die, provided we even find him.”

  “But you said the marrow was in the repository.”

  “No, I said Faye said it was there. I want to believe her, but I haven't checked it out myself. I don't dare.”

  “So you're suddenly not so certain about this new friend of yours?”

  “Harry, I don’t know what to think. I keep seeing that scarf, Tracy's scarf. I don't understand how Faye could have gotten it unless she stole it.”

  “So? Even if she does have Tracy's scarf, that doesn't mean she's also involved in this business with the marrow.”

  “Perhaps you're right. I hope so. But there's still something strange going on with that woman and her creepy boyfriend.”

  “All right, supposing the marrow is where it's supposed to be: what did this guy send to the Capellos? I mean, you said they had it checked, but checked for what? That it was marrow, or that it was the kid's marrow? Maybe the guy's bluffing.”

  “How can we be sure? I mean, Chapman, Bernstein, Capello, there must be a connection. Yet, the pattern keeps changing—no one's ever found Chapman's marrow; Tracy's was missing, then suddenly turned up; and with Vinnie, some of it was supposedly destroyed, but now I'm told it's all in the deep freeze.”

  “Maybe they're not connected.”

  “I don't believe that, but there doesn't seem to be much I can do about it. While Kessler and I have reached a tenuous truce, the lab people turn the other way when they see me, and Vasquez pretty much has everyone convinced I'm a neurotic idiot. So, if I go to the police without the Capellos, I'm nowhere.”

  Harry laughed. “Come on, let's not make it worse than it is.”

  “Oh? If you remember, up until last night, you didn't believe me, either.”

  “I know, and we still don't have any solid proof.”

  “That wasn't my imagination chasing me last night.”

  “I can testify to that,” he said, rubbing his stomach. “But it isn't proof of anything.”

  She sighed. “And wouldn't Vasquez have a heyday making me appear an even worse fool after all the trouble I've caused him? And this time he'd have the backing of the Capellos.”

  “Are you positive you can't get them to change their minds and go to the police with you?”

  “Absolutely!” She thought for a moment. “Do you think Vinnie ran away because he knows about his marrow being held for ransom?”

  “No, I don't think so. At least if I were his parent, I wouldn't have told him.”

  Gina swirled the ice in the bottom of her glass, sucking up the last of her tea with the straw. “I've got to do something, Harry. I'm not going to back away from this ... or anything else, for that matter ... not again, not ever!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Gina ran her fingers through her hair, then kneaded her brow. “I've told you before, I ran away from Dominick because he abused me. I've let that hang over me all these years—running away from confrontation, not standing up for myself.”

  “If you're trying to convince me you're a wimp, forget it. I know better.”

  She reached across the table for his hand. “Thanks, but I still have trouble facing things head-on. It's about time I changed that, don't you think?” She leaned across the table and gave him a lingering kiss, which quickly drew applause from nearby tables.

  Harry squeezed her hand, smiled warmly at her. “I think this may be the luckiest day of my life.”

  “Okay, Lucky Lucke, help me work this out before I go nuts.”

  Harry thought for a moment. “There's nothing here for you to work out—”

  “Can't you see there has to be a connection between Faye and Tracy's scarf—”

  “Don't hit me with that scarf business again. As I said before, what if she did steal it? It's a long stretch between that and stealing someone’s marrow.”

  “I know. I know. But the connection must be there.”

  Chapter 28

  Tracy was limp with exhaustion.

  It was evident that her future was out of her hands; she had no control over what was going to happen to her. If she was destined to die, so be it.

  No!

  An inner force rejected that; recognized it for what it was: a lie!

  Gary was suddenly back in her life and she wanted to live, wanted her life to continue.

  She closed her eyes, immediately receded into a frightening nothingness. She fought to escape the emptiness, only to be confronted by a single, terrifying question:

  What if they were lying about her getting the marrow?

  She forced her eyes open, found Gina standing next to her bed, adjusting the tree of IVs. She focused on the nurse, vaguely aware that Gary was holding her hand. Why was Gina so serious, so seemingly preoccupied with the IV setup? Had Gary lied, had the creep taken the money and kept her marrow?

  No, no, no! She couldn't allow herself to think that way.

  She fingered her headscarf with trembling fingers, tucked in the ends while Gina continued to read and reread the label on each bag of solution, acting as if it was the first time she'd ever seen them.

  Something's gone wrong! I know it!

  Gary squeezed her hand; she turned to him, tried to smile. He looked tired. No, not tired. Something else. It was something she hadn't seen in his face in a long, long time—a deep inner expression of love. It infused her with warmth, then confusion.

  It's because I'm ill. If I live, he'll be gone again.

  She glanced back at Gina, watched as the nurse rolled, slid, and adjusted the IV tubing's blue release valves; read and rechecked the solutions all over again.

  Why does she keep fussing with everything?

  “It won't be much longer before we start,” Gina said, pushing the unit of IVs off to one side, then quickly glanced at her watch.

  “Is ... is everything all right?” Tracy asked.

  “Couldn't be better. We're right on schedule.”

  Tracy wanted to ask more but a woman in a lab coat, pushing a metal cart, interrupted them. On top was a Styrofoam cooler, not much different from the kind she used to take on picnics; on the bottom was a large plastic basin, filled with an assortment of medical supplies.

  After the woman had washed her hands, Gina said, “Eva, I want you to meet Tracy Bernstein. Tracy, Eva's the one who has wo
rked with your marrow from the very beginning, from the moment it was harvested.”

  Eva came to the side of the bed, took her hand. “Big day for you,” she said, pointing at the cart. “Don't let any of this stuff frighten you.”

  “There isn't very much there,” Gary said. “I mean, I thought it would be a large complicated machine of some kind.”

  “Most people are surprised at how simple this part of the procedure is. It's not much different than any blood transfusion. The most complicated part is getting the right marrow. When it's your own, even that part's simple.”

  Tracy couldn't wait any longer. “You do have my marrow,” she blurted. “I am going to have it today, aren't I?”

  “You bet!” Eva said firmly. She walked back to the cart and placed the cooler on the floor and patted the top of the box. “It's right in here.”

  Tracy released an audible sigh and smiled widely. Gary leaned down to kiss her cheek and whispered in her ear, “That's a relief.”

  Tracy nodded, squeezed his hand against her hip and asked Eva: “Is it thawed and ready?”

  Gina and Eva both laughed.

  “Actually, it's still hard as a rock,” Eva said. She reached for the square plastic basin from the bottom of the cart and filled it with water, then set the basin on top of the cart on a special warming unit that she plugged into the wall. “We'll thaw it, bring it to body temperature as we use it ... one bag at a time.”

  Gina opened the cooler, releasing a foggy mist. She pulled out one of the packages of marrow and quickly showed it to Tracy—a small, bright-burgundy, almost square plastic package with two valves protruding from the top. Gina juggled it for a second, then returned it to the cooler. “It's icy cold,” she said, shaking her fingers.

  “Such a small package ... so flat,” Gary said. “Not at all what I visualized.”

  “That's so the preservative comes in contact with all of the cells,” Eva said. “The DSMO gives them that bright color and keeps them from bursting when they're frozen.” As she spoke, she began setting out the equipment, naming each item for Tracy's and Gary's benefit: “Ten 50cc syringes ... three-way stopcock ... Kelly clamp.” She pulled some plastic tubes from her pocket and explained how they would be used to culture the remains of each cell package. Studying the temperature reading of the water, she nodded almost imperceptibly. “The protocols are very rigid. Either do it right or the cells are useless.”

  “Not as simple as it looks,” Gary said.

  “We harvest it, filter it, remove the bone chips and fat. Then it all goes through a cell separator ... that's when we get the white cells.”

  “What do you do with the other cells ... the red ones?” Tracy asked.

  “We gave those back to you a long time ago.”

  “Everything seems so ... diminutive,” Tracy said. Her throat constricted, cutting off anything else she might have said. All she could do was wonder when would they start? Get it over with?

  Mark Kessler rushed into the room. “I know, I'm late. I'm sorry.” He smiled at Tracy and Gary, gave an I-couldn't-help-it shrug to Gina and Eva, and bent over the sink to wash his hands. “I overheard your last comment, Tracy. I want you to know there's nothing diminutive about the number of cells we collected. We have 1000ccs of your marrow, and we'll probably only use half of that.” He pulled several paper towels out of the dispenser and carefully dried his hands. “The rest we'll stash in liquid nitrogen and keep it in frozen storage for at least ten years.”

  Tracy's insides seemed to turn as frigid as the nitrogen freeze Kessler was talking about; she swallowed hard against a suffocating sensation that crushed down on her chest. This was what she'd thought she was waiting for, but all she could visualize now was an hourglass being flipped over, her life force rushing away.

  Kessler placed a hand on Tracy's shoulder. “Well, we finally made it.”

  Tracy could just barely nod.

  Eva pressed a button on the heating unit and the basin began rocking. She called out the temperature: 37 degrees centigrade. Tracy watched the tech clamp onto one of the marrow packages with a metal instrument, apparently so she could retrieve it easily, then let it float alongside another package. The basin gently rocked back and forth, heating and agitating the water.

  “It'll just be a few more minutes,” Gina said, moving the IV unit closer to the bed, then giving her a thumbs-up sign.

  Tracy was light-headed, forced herself to slow her breathing. At the same time she clutched frantically at Gary's hand.

  He leaned over, whispered in her ear:”I'm right here, Trace. I'm not leaving ... ever.”

  She turned to him. Tears filled his eyes. He mouthed,” I love you.”

  Kessler pulled a stand alongside the bed and adjusted the height, while Gina swabbed off the access port to one branch of the central line, just as it had been explained to her when she'd initially agreed to do the autologous marrow procedure. Kessler immediately plunged the needle from the IV tubing into the rubber port; Gina taped it into place and loosened the IV lock. Sodium chloride ran slowly into one leg of the “Y” tubing, backing down and filling the other leg of the access device. She realized everything was now ready for the infusion of her bone marrow.

  Tracy's heart pounded in her ears as Kessler took the first burgundy-colored syringe from the lab tech and attached it to the tubing. A three-way stopcock allowed him to remove any air bubbles in the line before injecting the marrow, yet continued to control the flow of the sodium chloride.

  As a metallic smell spread throughout the room, Gina reached over and pulled up the wick in a bottle of mint deodorizer.

  “What smells so horrible?” Tracy asked, alarmed.

  “That's the DSMO,” Eva said. “Probably the worst thing about the whole procedure.”

  Tracy began to relax. “I'm sure it's my imagination, but my mouth tastes like ... like wild onions, with a tinge of garlic ... kind of nice.”

  Kessler, Eva, and Gina laughed together.

  “Not only that,” Gina said,” by the time we're finished, you'll feel like you've had the humongous meal that went with it.”

  Tracy closed her eyes; a soft, calm grayness greeted her. She felt different, she was different: larger, potent, more connected.

  Opening her eyes, she looked around the room: Kessler was infusing syringe after syringe of marrow into her body; Eva was lifting the packages of her cells from the cooler, warming them, drawing them up into the syringes; Gina was checking the IVs, reassuring her; Gary was solid, supportive, squeezing her hand.

  A strange feeling of detachment overcame her—and with it came an unexpected sense of serenity.

  No more painful feelings about Gary's betrayal …

  no driving ambition …

  no more hopes …

  no more fears ….

  What remained was surrender; total surrender to each and every moment left of her life.

  * * *

  Gina had carefully watched Tracy and Gary throughout the engraftment. She knew that they'd paid to get Tracy's marrow back.

  Tracy Bernstein had paid to live while Carl Chapman had chosen to die.

  And Vinnie? What was his fate? Would he die as Chapman had?

  She scribbled more sign-off notes in one of the charts and put it back into the rack.

  Why wasn't Vinnie's marrow missing? Faye said it was safe in the lab. Was it or wasn't it?

  It was almost time to leave. Harry had called—they were to meet outside the hospital.

  But she kept stalling, knew what she had to do. Instead, she kept working at her nurse's notes—putting off the moment. Twice she started down the hallway toward Tracy's room, but each time she returned to the safety of the nurses' station.

  She had to know. Talking to the Bernsteins was the only way she was going to find out.

  They were still holding hands when she walked into the room. Tracy looked tired, but at the same time there was a contradicting calmness and radiance about her—certainly not what yo
u would expect of someone who had just spent six weeks undergoing grueling chemotherapy.

  “How do you feel, Tracy?” Gina knew the engraftment had gone well. Hopefully, the purged cells would now return to their home ground and regenerate, creating the embryonic network of healthy cells Tracy needed to survive.

  She smiled brightly at Gina. “Human, for the first time in ages.”

  “She's even starting to get feisty,” Gary said, laughing.

  Was there some diplomatic way to question them? Probably not. “How much did you have to pay?” she blurted.

  Both looked at her.

  “What was it, fifty thousand?”

  Tracy looked at her with pleading eyes—pleading for her to stop. Gary was stone faced.

  “You've got to tell me,” Gina said, feeling the first twinges of desperation tighten the muscles of her neck. “Other people's lives are at stake.”

  “That's exactly why we can't say anything,” Tracy whispered.

  “Please! One person has died already. If you don't help, there may be more.”

  “I'm not sure what to do?” Gary said.

  “Sure? You want a sure thing?” Gina shook her head, looked directly at Tracy. “You, of all people, know that's not possible.”

  “Gina, we're not trying to be difficult, we want to help—”

  “What happened to your scarf, Tracy?” Gina interrupted.

  Tracy automatically touched the beige silk covering her head. “What are you talking about? It's right here, I'm wearing it.”

  “Not that one. The one you bought in Italy, the Michaelia original.” She moved toward the closet. “Where is it? I'll get it for you; it's so much more attractive than the one you're wearing.”

  Tracy looked at Gary; he shrugged weakly.

  “Someone stole it,” she said flatly.

  Chapter 29

  Vinnie huddled in a corner of the garage, a hand pressed against his mouth to stifle the sound of his labored breathing. It had taken him almost three hours to cover the five miles from the hospital to home, a distance he could have jogged in about 40 minutes in the past.

  Despite the warm spring day, he shivered from the cold sweat that continued to accumulate and saturate his clothing. What he needed was a shower, something dry to change into.