by Larence Gold
“Thank God,” Izzy said.
“I hate to say this, as I’ve all but abandoned the thump, but it probably saved his life.”
“I didn’t know what else to do, Sharon. I was all alone—I panicked.”
“Do me a favor, Izzy.”
“Anything.”
Sharon smiled. “No more thumping, okay?”
“Okay, but that means we need to have our own cath lab at home.”
“God forbid,” Sharon said. “Let’s give Ross a couple of days, and if we see no further complications, I’m sending him home.”
“Stress had to be a part of this, don’t you think, Sharon?”
“That’s never good for the heart, Izzy, but we have difficulty drawing a straight line relationship between stress and a heart attack.”
“May I see him?”
“Of course,” Sharon said. “Follow me.”
They walked into CCU and into room 3 where Ross was leaning back chatting with his nurse. Izzy rushed over and gave him a powerful hug. “Easy, girl, you’ll dislodge my monitor leads and create some unneeded excitement around here.”
“I was so frightened.”
Ross took her hand. “I know, but Sharon says that I’m going to be fine.”
“But…” Izzy said.
“No buts,” Sharon said. “If you want to fuss over Ross, then go ahead, but don’t do it because of his heart.”
Izzy studied Sharon, and then looked back at Ross. Tears filled her eyes. “I could have lost you. From now on, you’re number one on my agenda.” She paused. “I’m dropping out of the Boston Marathon.”
Ross sat bolt upright. “Like hell you are.”
“Ross—,” she pleaded.
“You want to upset me even more by quitting, then get to it while Sharon’s standing around to help me with my next cardiac event.”
Sharon sat back in the easy chair by the bedside. “Izzy, I understand, but hat gesture is not necessary, and moreover, it’s not needed.”
“Sharon,” Izzy said, “it’s not a gesture, it’s a legitimate concern.”
“Dealing with two shrinks requires hazardous duty pay,” Sharon said. She turned to Izzy. “I know you guys. Think about it for a moment, Izzy, and you’ll see that the easiest way of hurting Ross is for you to drop out and make him feel responsible. If, at any time we’re concerned with Ross’s heart, we’ll deal with it—I promise.”
Ross picked up the phone. “I’m dialing Mitch and putting him, too, on notice. If he tells me you’re slacking off, you’re going to answer to me. Get it?”
Izzy smiled and grasped his hand. “Okay, okay, let’s get the testosterone under control.” She paused. “Now, let me see you deal with your overprotective daughter.”
When Izzy struggled into her office on crutches, Connie asked, “How’s Ross?”
“Much better. The whole thing scared the hell out of me.”
“You two have the perfect trifecta,” Connie said, “injured legs, a USADA ban for using steroids, and now, Ross’s heart attack. What more could go wrong?”
“Don’t tempt the fates,” Izzy said as she walked over to her desk wincing with pain.
“That bad?” Connie asked.
“Not really,” Izzy said. “I’m just keeping the pressure off during the healing process.”
“What about the Boston Marathon?”
“Good question, Connie. Come hell or high water, I’m running. Moreover, Ross will kill me if I don’t run.”
“But…”
Izzy raised her hand to stop him. “Please, Connie. I understand.” She paused. “Originally, this was just for me, but now I’ve become the ‘great wrinkled hope’. I hate disappointing my ageing fans, and now, Ross, too.”
“I don’t think that’s possible, Izzy. You’ve already made your mark with the public and nothing can change that. Disappoint Ross, not in your life.”
“You’re wrong, Connie. A positive test for performance enhancing drugs changes everything. The world sees me in a new light, not a flattering one.”
“I had a call from the DA’s investigator, Al Russo. He said that you’re expecting him. He should be here any moment.”
Ten minutes later, Connie showed Al Russo into Izzy’s office. Al was in his fifties, medium height, balding, and rumpled.
Al offered Izzy his hand. “Michael Rose has nothing but great things to say about you, Doctor.”
“We were partners in the bad old days, but I still love the guy, and Al, please call me Izzy.”
Izzy showed him to the sofa and they sat together.
“You’ve become quite famous, Izzy,” Al said.
“Famous then, infamous now. Can you help me?”
“I don’t know. From what I know, you’re not a doper, so the question is, how did androgenic steroids get into your body? The why seems obvious, and perhaps, the who will be, too.”
“I agree,” Izzy said. “The marathon, especially the Boston Marathon is highly competitive yet, as far as I know, this has never happened before.” She stood and paced the room. “How much do you know about me and my training?”
“Quite a bit. I spent three hours yesterday with Mitch Silverman. I’m sure you know this, but he’s a great fan and supporter, and he knows with a moral certainty that you’re innocent.”
“It’s those damned tests, Al. They deprive me of the presumption of innocence.”
Al shook his head. “The tests were positive, Izzy. Twice positive. No denying that you had steroids in your body. The question is how did they get there?”
“I don’t have the slightest,” Izzy said.
“I’ll repeat what I said to Mitch, and I want you to repeat this to everyone who’s been with you for the last month. I want a list, a complete list of everyone you had contact with during that entire time period. I don’t care how casual. I don’t care if they were across the room. I don’t care if they were passing by in a taxi—well, that’s a little much, but you get the picture. Then, I want you and Mitch to imagine who might be responsible. I don’t care how far out the possibility is— I want to know.”
“My family, too?”
“Everyone. It’s possible that even your family could have inadvertently exposed you. We’ve got to know, and we’ve got to know soon.”
Izzy was pleasantly surprised and, yes, gratified, when everyone in her world agreed to participate. Even though her contacts with some had been transient or casual, they all knew about the doping charges and willingly went to work on what would prove to be an onerous task.
At home, Ross got right into it while Jennifer was upset and a bit offended. “How can anyone think that I would do something to sabotage my own mother?”
“Nobody’s suggesting any such thing, Jen. It may have been inadvertent or someone planted something that eventually got to me. I know it’s far-fetched, but a lot of good people are trying to help. We can’t place obstacles in their way.”
Jennifer shook her head in anger. “You two are supposed to be the worldly ones, but I don’t believe for one second that this whole thing occurred by accident. Someone was out to get you, and they succeeded.”
“But who?” Ross asked. “I know you’ve had your run-ins with Hunter—do you think it’s possible?”
“Not Hunter,” Izzy said, “I don’t think she has it in her, but Cedric Blake—that’s another story.”
“It makes sense,” Ross said. “Disqualify you and he gets a twofer; he eliminates the competition and he pays back Mitch for throwing him out on his ass. The Cedric Blakes of the world don’t take that type of treatment well.”
Ross grasped Izzy’s hand. “You’ll talk with Al about this.”
“You bet, but Cedric’s no dummy. If he did this, it’s going to be difficult to prove.”
Jodie failed to look Izzy’s way when she arrived at the virtual reality lab.
Izzy walked up to Jodie. “I’m sure looking forward to a restful jog today. I’m beat.”
In barely audible
tones, Jodie said, “David would first like a word with you.”
Izzy felt her stomach cramp. “What about?”
“He’s in his office. Go right in.”
David was at his desk and looked up as Izzy approached. He signaled for her to enter.
“What’s up?” Izzy said with a smile.
“Please, take a seat,” David said. “We have a problem.”
“What is it,” Izzy said, suddenly even more alarmed.
“We’re in a cooperative study with other centers, and the study coordinator refuses to let you participate.”
“My God, why?”
“You know, Izzy.”
“Dammit—Dammit!” she cried. “Is there no end to this?”
“This isn’t easy for us, Izzy. You’ve made friends here in the lab, and nobody I know distrusts you or questions your ethics.”
“This may not be as bad a being labeled a pedophile,” Izzy said, “but guilty or not, the accusation leaves a permanent stain.” She paused. “You know me. Jodie knows me, in fact, everyone on your staff knows me. They know that I’d never dope.”
David looked into Izzy’s eyes. “I agree, and if I had control, I’d try to make this work, but I can’t.”
“I don’t understand, David.”
“If you stop and think for a moment, I’m sure you will.”
“It’s the positive test for steroids,” Izzy said, that invalidates your test results on me, and on my performance.” Izzy bent over, held her hands to her face and sobbed. “This is a nightmare.”
As Izzy was leaving the lab, Jodie grasped her arm. “Let me walk with you.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be seen with me.”
“This entire situation is bad enough without the melodrama,” Jodie said. “I’m with you and so are a lot of good people. They’ll come through, trust me.”
Izzy hugged Jodie. “You’re the best, but the positive tests for steroids unequivocally proves that they’re in my body. The presumption of guilt is overwhelming.”
“Even if you’re the victim? Even though someone gave it to you without your knowledge?”
“That would be a start, but we need to know who, what, where, when, and why.”
Ross was home early. He was sitting at his desk when Izzy entered the room. “Why home so early? I thought you’d be at the VR lab.”
Izzy reprised the essence of the study. “I really can’t blame them. They invested all that time and money on me—for what? None of the data on me is useful as I tested positive.”
“Michael and Al called,” Ross said. “Al’s determined and Mike’s pissed. They’ll come up with some explanation. In the meanwhile…
“Yes, I need to get my legs healed.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Four days later, when Izzy arrived at Redwood Park at 7:00 a.m., Mitch and Hunter were deep in conversation.
Mitch looked up as she approached. “Maybe you’re rushing this a bit?”
“Maybe so, Mitch, but one way or another, I need to know. My legs feel better and all I’m considering today is a light jog.”
“I can sympathize,” Mitch said, “but another injury could end it all for you. Remember, we have only four weeks left.”
Hunter walked over. “How are you feeling, Izzy?”
Izzy forced a grin. “I’m better, but you’d best run alone today. I don’t want to hold you back.”
Hunter studied her feet. “I’m upset that you’re going through this, and even more angry that they’d consider, for even one moment, that you’d use steroids.”
Izzy recalled the techniques of Paul Ekman on the facial clues that indicate lying, but as much as she studied Hunter’s face, she saw none.
Hunter’s telling the truth, she thought.
When they met afterwards, Izzy was icing her shins, and smiled when Mitch walked up with Hunter. “How are they feeling?”
“A little sore at the onset, but much better after about ten minutes. Now, on ice, at least, they feel great.”
Izzy was in her La-Z-Boy chair when Ross got home from work. He smiled and gave her a hug. “How did it go?”
“It went well. I was a little sore at first, but I’m great now.”
When the Gmail alarm sounded for a message, Izzy ignored it.
“Aren’t you going to check it?” Ross asked.
“No. It’ll wait. It’s either another vicious personal attack on me, or spam.”
“Hell, I’ll get it,” Ross said.
Ross sat at the computer and brought up their email. “Hey, Izzy. Get over here.”
“What is it,” she asked.
“I thought it was a scam until friends chimed in with congratulations,” he said.
“Congratulations for what?” Izzy asked.
“You have an email from the First Lady.”
“The First Lady of what?”
Ross laughed. “The First Lady of the United States.”
“This is a joke,” Izzy said.
“I don’t think so,” Ross said. “The email looks real. Maybe she’s a fan.”
“What does it say?”
Ross read from the screen. “Dr. Kramer, my mother (a senior, too), the President, and I are wishing you a rapid recovery and success in the Boston Marathon. You’re an inspiration to us all.”
Izzy hung her head. “They’d better dissociate themselves from me as quickly as possible or the House of Representatives is likely to launch another investigation.”
“I don’t think they need to worry about that,” Ross said. “And, by the way, Izzy, that was the First Lady. Even you should be impressed.”
Izzy lifted her head. “I would be if this drug thing weren’t hanging over my head.”
“We’re going to get this thing resolved.”
“I think it’s my karma—injuries and now the doping charges—bad karma for sure.”
When the phone rang, Ross picked it up, listened, and handed the phone to Izzy. “It’s Rick.”
“How’s it going baby sister?” Rick asked.
“I think I’m a little better.” She paused, and said, “And thanks for caring.”
“I’ve been beating the bushes for you. I talked with a dozen or more sports medicine specialists, sports physiologists, and wound care specialists.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Izzy said, “but,” she paused, “I’m glad you went through the trouble.”
“No trouble at all.”
“Did they come up with anything?” Izzy asked.
“You know what they say, Sis, if specialists have many ways for dealing with a problem, they’re all suspect. In any case, the one that most prefer is the injection of platelet-rich plasma into the affected area. Several suggested hyperbaric oxygen and others, shock wave therapy.”
“I think I’ll go for the one with a sacrificial chicken and drums.”
“Well,” Rick laughed, “you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
“That may be all that I have left.” Izzy paused. “The plasma injections sound like Prolotherapy. I’ve tried that already.”
“Don’t ask me,” Rick said. “You’ve heard the full extent of my knowledge—trust me, I did the best I could.”
“You’re great. One way or the other we’re going to visit. Love ya!”
Izzy had headed for bed at 8:30 p.m. “Might as well give these tortured limbs as much rest as possible.”
“Frankly, sweetheart, I’ll be glad when this is all over,” Ross said. “When is the USADA hearing?”
“Two weeks.”
“What are your chances?”
“Nil,” Izzy said. “If Al and Michael don’t come up with something, I’m dead meat.”
Izzy tossed and turned in bed, but finally got to sleep at around 10:12 p.m. When she got up to pee at 1 a.m., her legs were sore. At 5:15 a.m., Izzy awakened with a scream. “My God! What’s wrong? My legs are killing me.”
Ross turned on the light, and pulled the sheet from Izzy’s legs. They w
ere swollen to twice their normal diameter with red-purple coloring and several fissures. Ross stared at them, shook his head in disbelief, and said, “Terrible—they look just awful. Can they be infected?”
Izzy dropped her legs to the floor, and gasped in pain “I don’t know what this is, except it’s the end of my short-lived running career.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Jennifer had come over after dinner. She joined Ross and Izzy in the great room.
Izzy was on the sofa with her legs elevated on three pillows. She’d crossed her arms as Jennifer paced before her.
“Mother, you can’t quit now—I won’t let you.”
“Why?” Izzy responded. “That’s what you’ve wanted all along—be happy.”
“That’s so unfair, Mother. At the beginning, I was simply worried that you would injure or simply frustrate yourself. I wanted to save you from that.”
“Well,” Izzy said, “that’s all academic now. I’m done.”
“Rick went to the trouble of getting suggestions to deal with your injury,” Ross said. “Maybe one or more of those treatments might be worth trying?”
Izzy pulled the sweatpants legs to expose her legs. “Look at them,” she said. “Run a marathon? I can barely walk.”
Ross took Izzy’s hand. “I wish I could give you one of those half-time motivational speeches, but I don’t have it in me. You’re stuck, and so am I. We’re rational people. It’s not sexy, but it works.”
“Rationality, demands that I ‘call it a day.’’’ Izzy said.
“If you exhaust all possibilities, and can live without regret, okay, Izzy,” Ross said, “then give it up. But, I know you. You’ll ‘what-if’ yourself into despair, unless you try everything. Don’t let remorse hang over your head or mine. Regret is the one ingredient missing from the perfect dish.”
Izzy wrapped her arms around herself. She looked from Ross to Jennifer and back. After five minutes, she said, “Okay, you two. I surrender. I’ll do anything you wish, but if you think you can sow the seeds of optimism, my land is barren and parched, like me.”
“I like the metaphor, but not the thought,” Ross said. “When’s your next visit with Abbie?”