A Surgeon’s Knot by William Lynes

Author:William Lynes [Lynes, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781684334322
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
Published: 2020-04-22T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Jackson stood in the fourth-floor lounge looking down over the metal handrail, sipping old coffee from a brittle Styrofoam cup. He saw waves of people, four floors below, hustling back and forth. There was an expectant buzz that morning, people continually moving along on their morning activities. Proceeding north and south, men, women, and children, some with aspirations and lofty ambitions.

Jackson shook the last tablet from the medicine bottle into his mouth. Each dose was two pills now. The bottle was empty and accusing the intern.

He picked up the wall phone and dialed the memorized University Central Pharmacy number. Relief washed over him as he heard the familiar voice with a hint of an accent—his friend, Adham, was on the line. “Central Pharmacy, this is Adham. How can I help you?”

“Adham, this is Doctor Cooper.”

“Yes, Doctor Cooper. What can I help you with this morning?”

“I want to call in a prescription for myself.” The intern held the receiver to his ear, quietly expectant and hopeful. Physicians do self-prescribe meds, just like they take care of themselves medically. The difference here, however, was the nature of the prescription.

“What can I get you, Doctor Cooper?”

Jackson decided just to say it. “Percocet, one or two PO q 3-4 hours PRN pain.” Translated, his prescription read, one or two orally every three to four hours as needed for pain. Percocet is a Schedule II controlled substance, showing a high potential for abuse and often severe psychological or physical dependence.

“How many do you want, Doctor Cooper?” the pharmacist said.

“How about one hundred, with three refills.”

“Do you know your medical record number?”

“212-349-98,” he repeated from memory.

Adham seemed to write this all down. Jackson was tapping the toe of his boot, anxiety in the pit of his stomach. “Okay, that will be ready in ten minutes, Doctor Cooper. Come to the physician’s window, first-floor pharmacy. I’ll give it out to you.”

Relief overcame the intern. Since he’d been taking two pills at a time, he’d noticed that when he had only one tablet or skipped doses, an unusual anxious feeling occurred. After taking the medication, that feeling resolved. It relieved Jackson to know another bottle was coming his way.

Jackson was impatient, for as an intern, he would usually run the escalators or the stairways. Today, Jackson granted himself the luxury of waiting for the crowded elevator. As he did, he could not help himself. He looked and scanned his faithful clipboard, worn from months of heavy use and abuse. The two bronze doors were closed, the floor meter above it moving up. It stopped on the fourth floor, the doors opening. A crowd exited, leaving one man for future travels.

Jackson entered the elevators and pushed the button for the second floor. The man was elderly, perhaps 90, of average height, with a head of white hair. He wore a wrinkled gray suit, white shirt, black tie, and a black beret.

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