Nobility in Small Things by Craig R. Smith M.D

Author:Craig R. Smith, M.D. [Craig R. Smith, M.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

8

BYPASSING A PRESIDENT

That’s the strangest thing about this life, about being in the ministry. People change the subject when they see you coming. And then sometimes those same people come into your study and tell you the most remarkable things.

—MARILYNNE ROBINSON, GILEAD

ACT ONE

Friday morning of Labor Day weekend 2004, Trish and I were driving to the Adirondacks. Our thirty-fourth wedding anniversary was just ahead, and we planned to be at our summer home for the long weekend, the same place we’d spent our honeymoon in 1970, when it was still owned by my grandparents. Just after 08:00, my office manager, Diane Amato, called my cell phone. She had just hung up with Ron Wallach, an excellent Westchester County cardiologist I knew well, who had made it clear that something big was afoot, but he wouldn’t say more to anyone except me.

When I reached Ron, his first question was, “Do you think you can operate on a president?”

“Of course,” I said.

Ron explained that he was the cardiologist responsible for President Clinton’s overnight admission to Westchester Medical Center with chest pain. An angiogram done an hour or so before our conversation had revealed extensive “three-vessel disease,” a shorthand term of art for coronary artery atherosclerosis significantly compromising all three major circulatory territories. The cardiologists who had seen the films agreed that stenting was not advisable because of the complexity of the obstructions in his coronary arteries. Ron added that the president’s symptoms had quieted down and that he was stable enough for transfer by ambulance to Columbia. I switched back to my office and told Diane to initiate the transfer arrangements and notify hospital leadership that an unusually important VIP was on the way. Knowing that Allan Schwartz, our chief of cardiology, was also officially off call for the weekend, I asked Diane to find him, so that he could serve as the president’s cardiologist at Columbia.

Although she didn’t yet know who the patient was, Trish picked up on the essence of the conversation and started looking for the first place to turn around. An exit appeared within a mile or two, just south of Albany. While heading south again, we pulled in at a rest stop. At an adjacent sink in the men’s restroom, I bumped into a neighbor from Bronxville, who told me he was on his way to his niece’s wedding in Rochester. The father of the bride was a cardiac surgeon I knew well. I was puzzling fast over what I could say about where I was headed, and realized the answer was nothing. That surprise encounter was an abrupt signal to me of the information-embargo zone I had just entered.

Back on the road, as we were exiting US 87 in Yonkers, we saw an ambulance flashing south with black SUV escorts that we thought might be carrying my new patient from Westchester to Columbia.

We arrived home well before noon. I changed into my professional armor and drove to the hospital. By this time, Allan Schwartz had been located and was actively assessing the situation.

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