The Sisterhood - Michael Palmer [17]
“No problem, take your time.” Dalrymple gave her a perfunctory smile and headed down the hall. Christine felt as though she were going to be sick. The notes on Charlotte Thomas were a crumpled ball in her fist.
“Evelyn, are you still there?” she said weakly.
“Yes, Miss Beall. Can you continue now?”
Christine thought, No, but said, “Yes … yes, I’m okay. I mean, just a second while I arrange my notes.” Her fingers felt stiff, unwilling to respond. First Peg’s phone call, then the agony of John Chapman’s wife, then Charlotte, and now Miss Dalrymple showing up on this, of all days, and seeming to be watching her more than any of the other nurses. Barely connected or unconnected events, yet suddenly she was nearly paralyzed, her imagination braiding a cord of panic that tightened around her chest and throat. Awkwardly she smoothed the notes on the counter, fighting to regain control.
“The … the home health agency. Did I tell you about the home health agency?” The sound of her own voice began to loosen the fear.
“Yes, you did,” Evelyn said patiently.
“Oh, okay. Let’s see. Oh, yes, I was here.” The words blurred in and out of focus. “Mrs. Thomas has been on hyperalimentation through an in-dwelling subclavian line for nearly two weeks and is still on intravenous antibiotics, hourly pulmonary therapy, and continuous oxygen.” At that moment she realized that she had skipped a whole page. In fact, she was not certain what she had already covered. “Evelyn, I … I seem to have passed over some things. Is it all right to go back?”
“It’s all right to do anything, dear. We’ll be able to figure things out. Now just relax and give me what other information you have.”
The woman’s first warm words had an immediate effect. Christine took a deep breath and felt much of her tension vanish. “Thank you,” she said softly. Evelyn’s reassurance had reminded her: she was not functioning in isolation. She was part of a team, a movement committed to the highest good. If her role was difficult, at times frightening, so were those of the rest of her sisters. For the first time a note of calm appeared in her voice. “What I left out was that shortly after her surgery she had to be operated on again for drainage of an extensive pelvic abscess. One week ago she developed pneumonia, and last night a nasogastric tube was inserted because of the possibility of an intestinal obstruction.”
She was still shaking, but now the words came more easily.
“Recently she developed a large, painful sacral pressure sore and is now requiring around-the-clock Demerol as well as the usual local therapies. The physician’s notes in her chart as of yesterday state that her pneumonia is worsening. Despite all her problems, she has been designated a full resuscitation should she arrest.” Almost done, she thought. Thank God. “Mrs. Thomas is married, has two children and several grandchildren. That is the end of my presentation.” She sighed deeply.
“Miss Beall,” Evelyn asked, “could you please tell me if there is documented evidence in her record of the spread of her tumor to other organs?”
“Oh, yes, I’m sorry. I missed part of a page. There was one thing. An X-ray report. It’s a liver scan dated last week. The report from the radiologist says, ‘Multiple filling defects consistent with tumor.’ ”
“When was the last case that you handled?”
“The only case. Nearly a year ago. Mrs. Thomas would be my second.” It wasn’t like this the last time, she thought. That was beautiful, not an ordeal. Her legs felt boneless. Instinctively she looked about for a chair.
“Thank you for your call,” Evelyn said, “and for your excellent case presentation. The Sisterhood of Life Regional Screening Committee will evaluate this patient and contact you within twenty-four hours. In the meantime, as you know, you are to take no action on your own.”
“I understand.” It was almost over.
“Oh, one more thing, Miss Beall,” Evelyn added. “The name of this patient’s physician?”
“Her physician?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Dr. Huttner. Wallace