In reminiscing about the planning and development of the restaurant remodel, John became wistful when he recalled his journey in time and travel. It all started with John acquiring a huge library of books on the subject of great restaurants worldwide and following an exhaustive study narrowing his focus to French dining rooms and English pub themes. He took a lengthy tour of southern California restaurants of interest in these categories from Newport Beach to West Hollywood. Late in the evening and overly tired from his arduous trip, John encountered an owner on La Cienega Boulevard and engaged him in conversation about his plan and the trek he was undertaking. The gentleman inquired if John had hired a designer. No, he had not as of that moment but was tantalized and curious about this unexplored avenue.
As luck would have it, John learned the name of a hugely successful art and set designer in Hollywood who had worked on several restaurant projects over the years. The man, Martin Obzina, was the winner of Academy Awards for his accomplishments and novel designs throughout the years in the motion picture industry. Obzina reinforced John’s interest in restaurant books, and John increased the size of his already large library. John and Arlene had modest means at the time and any discussion of a budget was folly. Obzina came to Visalia for three months, living at a motel close to the restaurant and eating on site, literally, while the renovation took form. He was a supreme master at creating a “set” from the most humble (and inexpensive) parts and materials imaginable. He put these considerable talents to work at the VP and literally transformed it inside and out.
The VP faced fierce competition from down the street at the Depot Restaurant. The Depot had been transformed from a long-vacant Southern Pacific depot and an adjacent Railway Express shipping station into a fine dining experience for its patrons. This miraculous conversion made the Depot a great success from its beginning—so fabulous that the overflow from the Depot garnered increased trade at the VP. John resolved to compete in all features of the business: physical plant, menu, wines, and superb quality service. Locked in keen competition, the two restaurants channeled their energies into providing the best products and services in all categories, making the customers the winners in the process.
Today, Martorano ordered fresh red snapper blackened and seasoned with spices, a VP specialty for many years, and was not disappointed. He caught up on the local scuttlebutt with John and Arlene and then excused himself and drove to his office. Its location had long ago been determined by the availability of marginal land not particularly suited for farming, and it was situated as near as possible to the center of activity for his far-ranging enterprises. Most of his employees spent their time outside in the elements during the growing season (February to November) or in maintenance barns repairing equipment during the months of dormancy and inclement weather. Larry’s crews were exceptional and especially loyal, a treasured virtue held in highest regard in the agriculture business. His clerical staff was captained by Peggy Ramirez who had been with him for over twenty years. He was convinced he could not possibly have managed the far-flung operation without her invaluable help. She was competent, steady, bright, and in love with Larry, although neither of them was willing to acknowledge the fact.
The telephone seemed to be ringing off the hook this afternoon. Larry was speaking with a pest-control advisor when he realized Peggy was waving at him to get his attention. She mouthed a message to him, but he could not make out her meaning. He excused himself momentarily and put the gentleman on hold. Peggy explained that Dr. O’Connor’s nurse was on the phone and wished to speak with him as soon as possible. He acknowledged the information and picked up his receiver and apologized, indicating he had an emergency and would be back in touch in the next several minutes. His chemical man was amenable, and they bid their good-byes. Larry took the call from the nurse.
“Mr. Martorano?”
“Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”
“Well, it’s more about what we can and should do for you. Doctor received your reports and reviewed the films in this case. A little unusual, but he wanted to be sure. He just got called into an emergency surgery, some kind of athletic injury involving a fractured nose, so he asked me to call you.”
“That’s just fine. What are we looking at?” Larry inquired.
“The films show blockages of two sinus cavities above your nose. They are called the sphenoid and ethmoid sinuses. Doctor is recommending surgery to clear the fluids and blockages and asked me to schedule the procedure at your early convenience.”
Who the hell ever has time for something like this? he nearly blurted out, but caught himself in time. Instead, he too-gruffly inquired what would be involved.
“Oh, Doctor will perform the surgery at the hospital, but you won’t have to stay overnight. Usually if you report by 7:00 a.m., you’ll be on your way by noon. You’ll need a driver, and you should rest at home in the afternoon. The following day you may go to work, but you will need to take it easy for a few days. Also, please bear in mind, Doctor usually leaves packing material at the surgical sites that must be removed in a week or so following surgery.” The nurse was explaining the procedure quite succinctly, possibly a little put off by Larry’s apparent irritation.
Larry was impressed with her professional manner. He felt confidence in the medical organization that provided care to him and since any time away from the farming operation could be either disastrous or benign, he decided to leave it up to the doctor to make the scheduling decision and relayed his feelings to the nurse along with a stab at an apology for his poor telephone manner.
“That’s fine. We have a slot available a week from next Tuesday. Will that be acceptable?”
“Give me a minute, and I’ll check my calendar,” he replied. He put the receiver down and asked Peggy about the day in question. No conflicts, so he confirmed the date with the nurse.
“That’s good, Mr. Martorano. If you could actually be at the hospital at 6:30 a.m. you can finish the paperwork in plenty of time to be on schedule and ready to go when the surgical suite is available. Shall we confirm it then?”
“Yes, that works just fine. I’ll be there by 6:30,” Larry confirmed.
Since he had not yet mentioned his recent health issues to Peggy, he explained the situation. She was dutifully supportive, of course, and assured her boss accordingly; she even offered to drive him to Visalia on the day of the surgery and bring him to her home if that was what he wanted. Larry was certainly grateful for the offer of support, but said he was confident he could make it on his own at home, subject to any complicating factors. Not so far as Peggy was concerned. She was now the acting field commander and would simply take care of the whole maneuver as she saw fit.
On the day of the surgery, Peggy pulled her station wagon into the hospital parking area at the appointed time. She used a parking pass that had been forwarded from Dr. O’Connor’s office several days earlier. Larry was in the right front seat and behaving himself remarkably well, she thought. They made their way to the surgical department, checked in, and took seats waiting for their next assignment. Soon enough, Larry’s name was called, and he followed a nurse into pre-op. On instructions, he slipped out of his street clothes, retaining only his boxer shorts and a general-issue gown. He was shown to a bed with sizable wheels, obviously useful for rolling patients to their destinations in the surgical suite. After a short visit from the anesthesiologist, he received an injection from his nurse, and soon he was out.
By 10:15 a.m., Larry had recovered consciousness and his bearings. He became aware of Peggy who had been close by throughout. It did not occur to him at that moment, but he was nonetheless a very lucky man. Dr. O’Connor visited him in the recovery bay, no longer dressed in his surgical gear. He explained that everything went as planned. The sinuses were indeed encumbered, and in his opinion, the surgery was not optional. He went on to explain the physics of ballast principles and the role our sinuses played in the matter. Hypothetically, if all sinuses were actually plugged and s
ealed, a person would not be able to lift his head from the pillow after a night’s sleep. He told Larry that he would be allowed to leave in roughly thirty minutes, but only if he had a driver and suitable transportation. Larry introduced Peggy to Dr. O’Connor and after assessing the situation, he appeared satisfied with the arrangement.
“I left packing in the sinuses, which is very conventional practice. The good news is that they will speed your recovery time, but there will be some inconvenience when they come out in seven to ten days, so we’ll be getting together again at that time. My nurse will call you to make the arrangements. We do that at my office. Some patients cannot tolerate that procedure without a sedative, but I think you’ll be just fine without one. You have our number, so don’t hesitate to call us if you run into any problems. You should have a quick and complete recovery. And from what I know from my own experience and from what I hear from my patients, your energy will soon return to normal or even better than you can remember! Any questions?”
Peggy stepped forward. “Doctor O’Connor, I have one.”
“Surely, what is it?”
“Are there any diet or beverage restrictions?” she asked, her expression conveying more emphasis than the plain question she asked.
“No dietary restrictions. For beverages, let’s stick with nonalcoholic fluids for forty-eight hours, then maybe one glass of wine per day for another five days. If there are no complications after a week, by which I’m referring to excessive bleeding or drainage, then return to a normal schedule, subject to good judgment, of course. Now, I’ve got to hustle back to my office for the daily routine. But checking one last time, how are you feeling now, Mr. Martorano?”
“Very well, doctor, and many thanks for the good care. We’ll see you in a week or so,” Larry pledged, and Dr. O’Connor disappeared in a rush.
7
Recovery
July 1991
Larry’s convalescence proceeded as predicted. Once Peggy delivered him to his home, he thanked her profusely and sincerely, and then dismissed her against her protestations. He gave assurances that he would be just fine, and he assured her that he had her number if he needed to call. Obviously ready to spend the rest of the day protecting him and caring for his needs, Peggy took her leave as directed but with reservations. She said nothing at the moment, but she would definitely look in on him at dinnertime.
Peggy returned to the house after six o’clock and let herself in. She found Larry alert and watching a sporting event on television. He seemed in good spirits.
Had he eaten anything since coming home?
No, wasn’t that hungry.
What about now?
Okay.
So Peggy fried some ground sirloin she found in the fridge and presented him with two gigantic patties amply covered with marinara sauce. She spied some fresh corn he had on the counter and performed a quick boil of a couple ears for him. While he protested about the size of the portions, he devoured the entire dinner in just minutes. He was feeling better, she concluded.
The week passed quickly enough. Larry made it to the office faithfully without letup. It did appear that he was feeling better, although the drainage was ample and obviously not always pleasant. The nurse called and scheduled an appointment for removal of the packing. Once again, Peggy volunteered to drive Larry to Visalia, but this time he said he felt confident he could handle the trip on his own. Anyway, the office was falling behind on the financial reports the bank was always asking for, so she would be more useful staying at the office. He tried to be pleasant, but Peggy was disappointed, naturally.
When it came time to leave for Visalia, Larry bade the staff good-bye and drove himself to the doctor’s office. It had turned out to be a very hot day, with the temperature reaching over 105 degrees. As the summer sun bore down on the Valley, farmers needed to irrigate their crops. In doing so, the relative humidity increased with the consequent effect that the heat intensified its discomfort on the population. Even the dairy cows reacted adversely by producing less milk, using the body moisture for cooling purposes. He reached Dr. O’Connor’s office without difficulty, where he was greeted cordially by office personnel. He was ushered into an examining room and waited a few minutes for the doctor.
Soon the door opened, and Dr. O’Connor entered the room. After exchanging greetings, the doctor explained what he planned to do.
“You may have noticed that I’ve avoided being specific about this part of your treatment. I’ve learned over time that my patients actually benefit from limited knowledge of the mechanics of the process. All you need to know is that it’s best if you don’t jerk your head while I’m removing the packing. The sinuses we’re working on in your head are close neighbors of your frontal lobe.”
Larry really appreciated his doctor’s affable and self-confident manner. It bolstered his sense of well-being. He was aware that the doctor was moving a probe around in a sinus cavity, but no details were discussed. Not certain why he thought so, Larry expected Dr. O’Connor to announce when the packing would be coming out. Instead, he continued to probe gently and try to urge the material to come out by itself in a single wad. As it turned out, the first packing was unraveling, so it was necessary to slowly reel it out. Larry swiftly became aware of a sensation like nothing he had ever known or felt before: some minor pain, a rush of a tickling sensation, and finally huge improvement in his breathing pattern. Of course, and why not? Both nostrils had been blocked previously, and he had been breathing through his mouth all the time since the surgery.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor apologized. “I was hoping to get that chamber emptied by taking the entire packing all at once, but it didn’t work out that way. Are you ready for the next one?” he asked with obvious optimism.
“Of course,” Larry responded, “but could you scratch my nostrils while you’re in there this time? I’ve never been tickled like that before.” What other options were there, anyway? he questioned to himself silently.
Larry’s curiosity got the better of him. He was damn sure he would see what the material looked like upon removal, this time. Dr. O’Connor could have been a magician he was so deft in the movements of his hands and fingers.
“Wow!” Larry whispered respectfully as he caught a peripheral view of the wadded packing on its way to the waste canister. “Was it a boy or a girl?” he playfully wondered in feigned awe.
Dr. O’Connor said nothing in reply as he watched his patient carefully. Larry then felt a swoon and became just a little dizzy, but the sensation passed without incident. Satisfied Larry would not pass out, the doctor assisted his patient to an upholstered chair from the rolling stool he had been seated on during this latest procedure. His color was good, and his breathing appeared normal, so Larry was encouraged to stand up. No problem; Larry was doing studied breathing exercises, carefully filling his lungs to capacity and slowly breathing out through his uncluttered nostrils. What a wonderful experience! It was plain to him that restoring the two sinus cavities to their normal functions was not just prudent—it was truly exhilarating. Larry thanked the doctor sincerely, said he would send all his friends to him for this kind of work, and started to take his leave.
“Larry, I need to speak with you before you go today. If you have a moment now; would you mind taking a seat in my office down the hall? I’ll be there in just a minute after I freshen up,” the doctor said, spinning on one heel to reach the sink.
“Certainly. I’ll be waiting for you,” Larry said pensively, and left for the office.
Moments later, Dr. O’Connor came in and found Larry gazing out the window. “You were a trooper back there when the packing came out. I won’t belabor the point, but not everyone can handle that process as well as you did.” The doctor seemed genuinely impressed with Larry’s earthy disposition and steadiness. “But I’m afraid we’re not finished with one another quite yet,” his eyes focusing on Larry.
Larry picked up the signal immediately. “Is there a problem, doctor?�
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“Well, your blood test, immunoglobulin test actually, was abnormal. Everything looked good but with one significant exception. Did I mention that we would be doing an immunoglobulin test? I don’t remember if I explained that part of the blood tests.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember one way or the other,” Larry replied nonchalantly.
“Just as well, then. The test I’m describing evaluates the condition of your body’s immune system. According to these test results, you have something, more likely you don’t have something that normal people have, which should concern us greatly. To put it simply enough, a significant part of your immune system is missing. This is not a healthy situation, as you can imagine.”
“Can I take vitamins or something?” offered the ever-optimistic patient.
“You’re kidding! No, I can see that you’re not. No, vitamins are fine, but they won’t touch this problem. As I said your immunoglobulin count is down, and your immune system is not as strong as it should be. If this problem is confirmed, you’re in line for lifetime treatment whereby we infuse your system every three or four weeks with the living antibodies that your body does not manufacture, apparently,” the doctor explained.
“I … I don’t understand. I’ve had my colds, okay, but I’ve never gone to the hospital with pneumonia, for example,” Larry protested.
“So far, so good, is the best I can say at this point. Making this diagnosis is out of my specialty, and I’m obliged to refer you to a qualified immunologist before we start making plans that may not otherwise be required. It’s my advice that you consult with someone at a university medical school, like UCSF, Stanford, or UCLA.”
“UCLA is out. I’m a graduate of USC, and I can’t take any chances,” Larry said, holding a straight face for a short time while Dr. O’Connor studied the expression of his patient. Shortly, Larry broke into gales of laughter, surprising himself even. Maybe nervous energy accounted for his bizarre conduct.
(2012) The Court's Expert Page 9