The Way We Love by Stuart Friedman

Author:Stuart Friedman [Friedman, Stuart]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4405-4325-8
Publisher: F+W Media
Published: 1960-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

Kurt woke earlier than he’d expected, thinking about that difficult pancreas operation Tolliver had scheduled for 7:30 and remembering the sodden, drunken condition he’d been in last night. He got to the hospital at 6:30, and sat waiting in his car. If Tolliver wasn’t right Kurt was damned if he was going to let him go into that operating room, even if it meant calling an emergency meeting of the surgical credentials committee and the hospital’s chief administrator and keeping him out by main force. Five minutes later Tolliver drove into his own space, parked and got out and came around to the right door of Kurt’s car.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said, opening the door. “First I want to apologize for whatever I might have said last night.”

“Get in. Apology accepted. Do you remember why I was out there?” Kurt said, coldly watching him as he got in, noting his pallor and bleary, puffy eyes and the shakiness of his hands.

“Yes. Lucy Dorrister died. What happened?”

“The resident on duty was Dr. Gavin Ash; he can tell you if you want all the details. I got there too late. It was shock. What brought it on may never be determined. I think Dr. Marshall knocked her resistance to hell with his overuse of antibiotics, and some of his other medication may have damaged her kidneys and liver. Her kidneys quit last night. Whether or not the shock resulted from renal dysfunction or vice versa, I don’t know. If you want my guess about the autopsy findings—”

“You got the autopsy authority signed?” he said anxiously.

“Of course! Your Dr. Marshall tried his damnedest to stop me—with good cause; some of the onus will surely rest on him. But the operation was inadvisable, and you took a considerable time with it, I noticed, and the stress of it certainly contributed to the later exhaustion and shock. And here’s something for you; an exudative pyogenic infection in the wound. The dressing over your closure was saturated with pus, and the wound oozed it—and I don’t mean staphylococci albus—this was thick, yellow pus.”

“I see. Marshall’s overuse of antibiotics made them ineffective against the bacteria.”

“Neat,” Kurt laughed sourly. “And undoubtedly partly true.” He paused, then said with heavy irony. “Our splendid aseptic techniques in surgery, the flawless sterilization program, makes it impossible that any of your instruments or bandages or sutures could have introduced the bacteria into the wound.”

“Well,” Tolliver said, uncomfortably, his hand on the door latch, “considering your general hostility toward me, it would be useless to ask you a favor.”

“Such as?”

“I’m in no condition to attempt that pancreas thing. I was going to ask you to operate for me.”

“You were?”

“You consulted on the diagnosis. You know the condition; the operation can’t be put off safely. I wouldn’t trust myself to do it. I know you can, and I’m asking you to. Professionally, you can’t refuse me, Severton.”

“Can’t I? Try me. My answer is no … unless.”

“What? Unless what?”

Kurt took his time.

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