by Alton Gansky
“She’s not in her office,” the receptionist said. “Shall I page her?”
“No,” said Adam. “I’ll just stop by. If you talk to her though, would you please tell her that Adam Bridger is on his way over?” The hospital operator said she would, and Adam hung up.
“Fannie,” Adam said as he walked through the door that joined their offices. “I’m going to be gone for the afternoon.”
“That must have been an important call,” Fannie said.
“I don’t know how important, yet.”
“Martin St. James,” Fannie said quizzically. “Is he related to Anna St. James?”
“The very one.”
“Why haven’t I seen him at church?” Fannie asked.
“Lord willing, you will someday.”
“Oh, you mean he’s not a believer? That’s too bad. If he’s related to Anna, you’d think that he would be a church person.” Adam smiled at Fannie. “I’m sure Anna would appreciate your prayers for him.”
“I thought I might find you here.”
Rachel jumped. She had been so engrossed in the heart surgery going on in the OR below her that she had not noticed Dr. Morgan enter the observation deck and sit next to her. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“I’m sorry, I guess I was more entranced than I realized.” Morgan’s unexpected arrival made Rachel’s heart race.
“And well you should be,” Morgan said casually. “That’s Dr. Yuri Sarlov down there.”
“The Dr. Sarlov?” Rachel said with amazement. “Of Boston General?”
“The very one.” Morgan smiled. “He came on staff here last week. He’s been working with our cardiac department for months, flying in every few weeks. He’s setting up a heart transplant team here.”
“I hadn’t heard.” Rachel was still amazed. A pioneer in the field, Dr. Sarlov was considered the most successful and brilliant heart surgeon in the world.
“We’ve been keeping it under wraps. We weren’t sure we would be able to get him. He was well established in Boston. You can’t get a man like that with money.”
“So how did you get him to come here?” Rachel’s eyes were fixed on the video monitor.
“I don’t want to reveal too many secrets,” Morgan said. “But I can tell you this: we offered him a free hand in setting up the program, and as much research time as he wants. We also have to share him with the UCSD medical school. That’s where his lab will be.” Morgan sounded like a proud father. “I don’t mind telling you this whole thing is costing a bundle.”
“I can imagine.”
“We almost lost him when this Healer thing began.” Rachel turned and looked at Morgan. In the dim light he looked weary. “He said he didn’t want to be associated with a hospital that had ‘mystic’ overtones. I was able to convince him that the matter would be cleared up soon.”
One of the other doctors in the observation deck turned and said pointedly, “Do you mind? We’re trying to concentrate. If you want to talk, then . . .” The doctor stopped mid-sentence when he recognized Dr. Morgan. “Oh, sorry, Dr. Morgan, I didn’t know it was you.”
“Actually you’re right, Doctor.” Then to Rachel he said, “Let’s go where we won’t be so distracting.”
Exiting the observation deck, they walked slowly down the hall.
“Did you want to go to your officer Rachel asked.
“No. The last place I want to be is my office. Let’s just walk.” After a moment’s silence Morgan continued, “This is not easy for me to say, Dr. Tremaine, so I would appreciate it if you’d allow me to finish without interruption.”
Rachel’s stomach tighten. It sounded like one of those things employers say to employees just before they fire them.
“Certainly,” Rachel said, attempting to sound confident.
“Our last meeting was neither productive, nor professional. Such confrontations should not be allowed to go on in a hospital. As you’ve probably noticed I value team effort very highly. That team effort has not been present in our investigation.”
Morgan paused as they passed a nurses station. Once out of hearing range he resumed: “This problem of ours, and by that I mean the mysterious healings, must be solved soon. The number of people in our lobby is increasing daily. There’s no more room for them. Many are refusing to eat unless we admit them. We’ve hired extra security, put up additional surveillance equipment, and still the Healer slips by us. The media is hounding us day in and day out. One station even sent a reporter to spend the night in the lobby, to see how we are treating the unadmitted ill. Other hospitals are losing money and blaming us. The editorial pages of the city’s newspapers are filled with opinions. Our board of directors is pressuring me to solve the problem, but not one of them can suggest a means of doing so.”
Morgan paused again as two nurses walked by. Rachel had not realized the pressure Morgan was under.
“Our in-patients are giving us trouble now as well,” Morgan continued. “Several have put up impassioned signs on their doors begging the Healer to pick them. Many are refusing medications that make them sleepy, because they’re afraid the Healer won’t stop by if they’re asleep. The more paranoid patients are afraid that if we catch him, we will hide him somewhere so that we won’t lose money.” Morgan ran his fingers through his silver hair. Then, stopping by some windows that overlooked Interstate 805, he turned and faced Rachel.
“That’s why I’m glad I found you today, and why I need to say what I’m about to say.”
Here it comes.
Taking a deep breath, Morgan said, “I’m sorry for the scene I made in my office yesterday. I let the pressure get to me. What I said was uncalled for, and certainly unprofessional. I hope you will forgive me. I also hope that you will stay on staff here. It would be a great loss to lose a surgeon of your skill and dedication.”
Rachel’s jaw dropped; receiving an apology instead of being dismissed left her dumbfounded.
“Are you all right, Dr. Tremaine?”
“Yes.” Rachel cleared her throat. “Yes, of course. And I too want to apologize.”
“Good,” Morgan smiled broadly. “Now that is taken care of, let’s get back to work, shall we?”
“Absolutely,” Rachel said, shaking Dr. Morgan’s hand. “Absolutely.”
ADAM BLINKED IN DISBELIEF at the sight before him. Standing with his back to the information desk, Adam estimated that 300 people were crammed into the lobby. The hospital had set up one corner of the lobby as a makeshift hospital wing. Gurneys served as beds. Two nurses roamed the lobby treating patients the best they could. Many refused treatment in hopes that the Healer would be especially moved by their plight.
The lobby chairs were filled with those whose illness did not confine them to bed. Many others lay on the floor. One man, thin and frail looking, held a hand-lettered sign that simply read, “PLEASE.” A pathway through the crowds had been cordoned off. The unadmitted ill were required to stay behind the nylon ropes in order to allow foot traffic through.
“She’s on the phone now, sir,” the woman behind the information desk said. Adam had Rachel paged when he couldn’t reach her on her office phone.
Taking the phone, Adam said, “Rachel? Good. Martin has called and he wants to see us. I thought we might catch a bite to eat and then head to his place.”
“What kind of information does he have?” Rachel asked.
“He wouldn’t say. He just asked us to come over.”
“Do you think it’s important?”
“If I know Martin, it is. How about it?”
“All right,” Rachel said. “Meet me at the second floor doctor’s lounge; you can get some coffee there. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”
The doctor’s lounge was the same one where Adam had met Rachel, when she questioned him about David Lorayne. That event seemed like months ago, when in reality it had only been days. The lounge was empty.
Twenty minutes passed before Rachel appeared.
“So
rry to be late,” she said. “I was asked to help with a problem patient.”
“A problem patient?” Adam asked.
“Yes,” she said with disgust. “She’s with some religious group that doesn’t believe in medical treatment. Jehovah’s Witness, I think.”
“Are you wanting to give her blood?”
“That’s right.” Rachel replied. “How would you know?”
“It’s one of their beliefs. It has something to do with a verse in Leviticus about not eating meat with the blood still in it, because the life is in the blood. From that they have determined that blood transfusions are sinful. They’re even willing to die, if need be.”
“Well, not only is this woman going to die, but so is the baby she’s carrying.”
“She’s pregnant?” Adam was shocked.
“That’s why she needs the transfusion. She’s suffering from placenta previa.” Adam looked puzzled so she continued. “That means that the placenta is located too low in the uterus and causes hemorrhaging. With prompt treatment the bleeding can be stopped, but she’s refusing treatment. She began to hemorrhage hours ago and has lost a dangerous amount of blood. If she doesn’t let us treat her soon, both she and the baby will be in real trouble.”
“Are there others with her?” Adam asked.
“Three of them. They stand around her bed guarding her. They’re polite enough, but they encourage the mother to refuse the needed blood.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“There’s nothing I can do,” Rachel said. “She’s not even my patient. I was called in because they thought a female doctor might help. Unfortunately, it didn’t. Her regular doctor is helpless. The only thing he could do is declare her mentally incompetent. Unfortunately, she’s very competent.”
“Why not let me try?” Adam said. “It can’t hurt.”
Rachel looked at Adam. “Are you serious?”
“Sure, why not?”
“I don’t know if that’s wise,” Rachel said reluctantly.
“Rachel,” Adam’s voice was serious, “we’re dealing with a life here, maybe two. Even if the mother survives, she’ll live the rest of her life knowing that she let her unborn baby die.”
“I’d have to clear it with her doctor.” Rachel paused and thought for a moment. “Okay, I’ll ask. Let’s go, maybe we can still catch him at the room.”
Going to the maternity ward and then walking quickly through the corridors, they arrived at room 288. As they did, a chubby, balding man in a white smock stepped from the room.
“Dr. Abrams,” Rachel said, “do you have a moment?”
“A moment.” His face, drawn and creased with a frown, revealed his weariness.
Rachel took him by the elbow and led him out of voice range from the room.
“I want you to meet someone,” she said. “He might be able to help. This is Reverend Adam Bridger and he’s asked for a chance to speak to your patient in 288.”
Dr. Abrams peered at Adam as though analyzing every feature of his face. “Just what do you have in mind?”
“Just a simple conversation with the woman alone,” Adam said.
“And what do you hope to accomplish by speaking with my patient?”
“I hope to save her and her baby’s life,” Adam said matter-of-factly.
“What kind of minister are you?” Abrams asked.
“I pastor a community church not too far from here.”
“You’re aware that she’s a Jehovah’s Witness?”
“I am.”
Abrams took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I don’t suppose it would hurt. Go ahead. Her name is Angela Pierce. I’ll be waiting at the nursing station. You said, however, that you’d like to speak to her alone. I’m afraid her friends may make that a little difficult.” Abrams turned and walked away.
“Do you mind if I watch?” Rachel asked.
“Not at all.”
“What are you going to do?”
Adam shrugged and said slowly, “I don’t really know.”
Adam entered the room, followed closely by Rachel. Inside, he was greeted with the stares of three individuals: two middle-aged women and an elderly man.
“Hello,” Adam said cheerfully, and a broad smile crossed his face. The smile was not returned. The only acknowledgment was a slight nod by the man. Looking at the patient, Adam saw a pale, slim, and very young, pregnant woman.
“You must be Angela,” Adam said. He moved to the edge of the bed and gently took her hand. “I hear you’re not doing so well.”
“Are you another doctor?” Angela asked softly.
Adam could see fear in her eyes. He wondered how committed she was to refusing treatment.
“Me? No. I’m just here doing what I do best, visiting people like you. People who want someone to respect them and care for them.”
Looking past Adam, Angela said, “I know her. She was here earlier.”
“Dr. Tremaine?” Adam said. “She’s a good friend of mine. We were just about to go to lunch, but I wanted to stop by and see you first.”
“Why?”
“Because you are special and because your life is about to change.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m not sure I can explain it.” Adam didn’t want to pursue that thought yet, so he changed the subject. “I hear you’re a religious person. Is that true?”
“I’m a Jehovah’s Witness.”
“How long have you been with them?”
“Two years.”
“Is your husband a Jehovah’s Witness?” Adam continued to hold Angela’s hand, even though she made no pretense of holding his.
“No,” she said averting her eyes.
“Angela,” Adam said softly. “Where is your husband now?”
A solitary tear rolled down her face. “He’s very angry with me. He thinks I should have the blood transfusion.”
“But you don’t think you should, do you?”
Angela shook her head. “I must have faith. If I take the blood, Jehovah will think I don’t have faith. Besides, the Bible says not to.”
“Does it?”
“Yes, it does,” said a stem voice behind Adam. Adam turned toward the man who looked to be near seventy. He had a dignified air about him. “The Bible says that the life is in the blood, and we are not to take the life. We are not to eat meat with the blood still in it.”
Adam smiled nonchalantly. “Thank you. I’ve read the Book of Leviticus too.” Returning his attention to Angela, Adam continued, “Do you like reading the Bible, Angela?”
“Yes, very much.”
“And you believe the Bible is the authority for your life?”
“Of course,” she said. “So long as it is properly interpreted.”
Adam had heard that line many times before. It was usually used by those who felt certain portions of the Bible might be contrary to their thinking. The best way to deal with those passages was to declare them improperly interpreted.
“I love the Bible myself,” Adam said. “It’s been my companion for a long time. Tell me, Angela, what’s your favorite part of the Bible?”
Angela thought for a moment. “I have so many favorites it’s hard to choose. I like the Old Testament a lot. I like the story of Joseph.”
Adam smiled. “That’s a favorite of mine too. What part of Joseph’s story do you like best?”
Angela perked up, thankful to have something to distract her from her troubles. “I like the part where he’s sold into Egypt and rises in power because of his hard work and dedication to Jehovah.”
“He was a faithful man, wasn’t he?”
“Oh, yes. Because of that, Jehovah could use him.”
“All right, Angela, how about a trivia question? How did God use Joseph’s captivity in Egypt?”
“Lots of ways, I guess. One of the most important things was to save the Egyptians and his own family from the famine that was to come.”
“Did it work?”<
br />
“Oh, yes. Jehovah revealed that a famine was to come to the land, and so Joseph commanded that all the people bring in a portion of their crops to be saved for later. Because of that all the people, including Joseph’s family, were saved from starvation.”
There was more to the story than Angela was telling, but that didn’t matter. She was describing the portion he had hoped she would.
“I have always loved that story,” Adam said. “I’d like to ask you something about it.”
Angela looked at him suspiciously. “What?”
“Well, why did God use Joseph to save the people from starvation? Why didn’t God just stop the famine?”
“Because that was Jehovah’s choice. He could have stopped the famine, but He chose to work His will through Joseph.”
“You mean that Jehovah God sometimes works His will through people?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Do you know what I think, Angela?” Adam said quietly. “I think your unborn baby and you are just like the Egyptians, and Dr. Abrams is your Joseph. I also believe that Jehovah God can work His will through people like Dr. Abrams.”
“Now just a minute here, Mister,” the old man said. “I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.” The ladies talked simultaneously. The room was filled with chatter. Adam never took his eyes from Angela.
“I think it would be better if you left, sir,” one of the ladies said coldly. “You’re not going to change her mind.”
“Angela,” Adam said kindly, “I have a story to tell you; a joke actually, but if you want me to leave, I will.”
Angela paused for a moment and stared at Adam. Then she gently squeezed his hand. Adam’s smile broadened.
“There was this man who lived in a small town. One day a big storm came through. It rained so hard that the dam overflowed and the town was flooded. The man escaped the rising water by climbing onto the roof of his house. Pretty soon the water had risen all the way to the eaves and he was trapped. Then a man in a small boat came by and said, ‘Hop in and I’ll take you to safety.’ But the man refused, saying, ‘God will save me.’ Despite the pleas of the boat owner, the man would not come off the roof and the waters continued to rise. A little while later another man came by in a rubber raft. He said, ‘I’ve got room for one more; get in and I’ll take you to safety.’ But the man refused, saying, ‘I have great faith. God will save me.’ The waters continued to rise. Finally, a helicopter hovered overhead and a man with a bullhorn shouted down, ‘I’ll lower a rope. Tie it around you and we will save you.’ But again the man refused and waved the helicopter off, shouting at the top of his lungs, ‘God will save me.’ So, do you know what happened next?”