The Sisterhood - Michael Palmer [28]
David reached out his hand and Thomas shook it uncertainly. During the seconds they stood appraising one another, Thomas seemed perceptibly to calm down.
“Well, Dr. Shelton,” he said finally, “what do you think of my wife’s chances?”
David looked down momentarily and closed his eyes. Somewhere in a remote corner of his mind a voice kept telling him that if he could just stall for a few minutes his clock radio would go off, waking him up. With consummate effort he brought his eyes up until they connected once more with Thomas’s.
“Mr. Thomas, I just reviewed your wife’s hospital record and met her for the first time,” he said deliberately. “It really is impossible at this time for me to assess her whole situation accurately.”
Thomas opened his mouth to object to what he considered an inadequate answer, but David stopped him with a raised hand. “However,” he continued, hoping that his tone would not give away the fact that he had no desire to continue at all, “I will tell you that I see her as a critically ill woman whose chance of surviving this illness rests not only with receiving the best possible medical and nursing care—which, incidentally, she has been receiving—but also in having the will to make it through. This is the part I cannot assess yet. That strength comes not only from inside her, but from you, from Dr. Huttner, and from the rest of those who love and care for her.
“I know you’d like to hear a more clinical evaluation of her prospects, but right now I’m just not in a position to give you that.”
Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Huttner beaming his approval. Holy shit, I got out of it! was all David could think. Then, even before Thomas responded, he felt a spark of anger at himself. He had not given even a hint of his true, bleak feelings about Charlotte’s chances. As Thomas spoke, the spark grew white hot.
“You really don’t see it, do you?” Thomas said, looking wildly around him. “None of you do. Charlotte and I have been married for over thirty years. Thirty full and happy years. Don’t you feel we should have some say as to what kind of tortures she must be put through to prolong the agony of what has until now been a totally rich and fulfilling life?”
This time David did not look away. For several seconds a painful silence held. Finally he spoke. There was anguish in his voice, but also the power of conviction. “Dammit, I do feel that way. Exactly as you do, Mr. Thomas. I feel that very strongly.”
Again there was an agonizing silence. David felt Huttner’s eyes and sensed the world sinking beneath him. His tone mellowed. “But you must understand,” he said. “I am not your wife’s primary physician, Dr. Huttner is. And he is more experienced than I am in every aspect of medicine and surgery. It is his final say as to what kind of treatment your wife will or will not receive. I intend to carry on his therapies to the absolute best of my abilities.”
Thomas glared at Huttner, then snapped, “I understand, all right. I understand completely.” Spinning so fast that he nearly lost his balance, he stalked down the corridor toward his wife’s room.
His outburst was the last straw for Huttner. It had been a long and trying day. He stepped back so that David and everyone at the nurses’ station was included in his gaze. “I am going to say this one time and one time only.” His voice was dry ice. “Charlotte Thomas is to be treated as aggressively as necessary to save her life. Have I made myself clear? Good. Now all of you get back to your jobs. Dr. Shelton, perhaps you had better go home and get some rest. Straightening out my practice could prove an exhausting experience for you.”
With that, he marched down the hall and followed Peter Thomas into Room 412.
David stood alone in the center of the corridor. The group behind the nurses’ station some fifteen feet away was frozen and silent. He glanced about with the sheepishness of a janitor sweeping center stage when the curtain suddenly opens before a packed house. For an instant he had the impulse