Robin Cook (8 page)

Jennifer nodded but didn't speak. She watched Adam leave and heard the door to the hall close and lock. What was happening to them, she wondered. Adam seemed like a different person. He'd never been violent, and violence terrified her. Was this pregnancy going to change everything?

Climbing the third and final flight of stairs in Cheryl Tedesco's apartment building, Jennifer was appalled. She'd thought her own building was bad, but Cheryl's made it seem like the Helmsley Palace. A couple of winos—Jennifer hoped they were not residents—had camped in the lobby.

Checking the number on Cheryl's apartment, Jennifer hesitated before knocking. Then she had to wait while there were a number of clicks and finally the sound of the chain being moved before the door swung open.

“Hi! Come on in,” said Cheryl. “Sorry it took me so long. My dad insisted on putting on all sorts of locks.”

“I think it's a good idea,” said Jennifer, quickly stepping inside. Cheryl went into the bathroom to finish dressing while Jennifer looked about the unkempt apartment.

“I hope you followed doctor's orders,” she called, knowing that Cheryl had been advised not to have food or drink save for a small amount of water when she first woke up.

“I haven't eaten a thing,” yelled Cheryl.

Jennifer shifted her weight from one foot to another. Sensing that the entire building was filthy, she didn't want to sit down. The whole idea of accompanying Cheryl was beginning to upset her, but she couldn't let her go alone. At least she'd get to see the fabulous Dr. Foley, though she wasn't about to challenge Adam about obstetricians just yet. They had half made up the night before, but Jennifer was still distraught at the thought of Adam leaving medical school. She had her fingers crossed that this interview at Arolen would be unsuccessful.

“Ready,” said Cheryl, emerging from the bedroom. She had an overnight bag slung over her shoulder. “Let's get the show on the road.”

The hardest part of the trip to the Julian Clinic was climbing down Cheryl's stairs without falling and then getting by the winos. Cheryl was unconcerned about the bums, saying that when the super got up he'd send them packing.

They walked to the Lexington Avenue subway and caught the No. 6 train to 110th Street. It wasn't the greatest neighborhood, but it quickly improved the closer they got to the clinic. In fact, an entire city block had been leveled to accommodate the new health-care center. The building was a fifteen-story contemporary structure of mirrored glass, reflecting the image of the surrounding early nineteenth-century tenements. For a block in all directions, the old buildings had been renovated, sandblasted, and refurbished so that they shone with quaint splendor. And for another block beyond that, many of the buildings were fronted by scaffolding, indicating that they too were being repaired. It appeared as if the clinic was taking over a whole section of the city.

Jennifer went through the front entrance expecting the usual hospital furnishings but was pleasantly surprised by a lobby that reminded her more of a luxury hotel. Everything was new and spotlessly clean. The large reception area was so well staffed that Jennifer and Cheryl did not have to wait long before a pretty black secretary said, “May I help you?” She was dressed in a white blouse and blue jumper and wore a name tag that said “Hi! I'm Louise.”

Cheryl's answer was barely audible. “I'm to see Dr. Foley. I'm to have an abortion.”

Louise's face clouded over with concern. “Are you all right, Ms . . . .”

“Tedesco,” said Jennifer. “Cheryl Tedesco.”

“I'm fine,” insisted Cheryl. “Really I am.”

“We have psychologists on call for admitting if you'd like to talk to one now. We'd like to make you as comfortable as possible.”

“Thank you,” said Cheryl. “But I have my friend here.” She pointed to Jennifer. “I wanted to ask if she will be permitted to go upstairs with me.”

“Absolutely,” said Louise. “We encourage patients to have company. But first let me call up your record on my computer and then alert the admitting people. Why don't you two go over to the lounge and relax. We'll be with you in just a few minutes.”

As Cheryl and Jennifer walked around to the comfortable sitting area, Jennifer said, “I'm beginning to understand why you and Candy are so high on this place. If Louise is any example of how they treat you here, I'm truly impressed.”

They barely had time to slip out of their coats when an elderly gentleman approached them, pushing a cart with a coffee and tea dispenser. He was
dressed in a pink jacket, which he proudly stated was worn by volunteers.

“Are the nurses this friendly, too?” asked Jennifer.

“Everybody is friendly here,” said Cheryl, but despite her smile, Jennifer could tell that she was anxious.

“How are you doing?” she asked, reaching over and squeezing Cheryl's hand.

“Fine,” said Cheryl, nodding her head up and down as if trying to convince herself.

“Excuse me, are you Cheryl Tedesco?” asked another pleasant-looking young woman dressed in a white shirt with a blue jumper. Her name tag said “Hi! I'm Karen.”

“I'm Karen Krinitz,” she said, offering a hand which Cheryl shook uncertainly. “I've been assigned to coordinate your case and to make sure everything runs smoothly. If you have any problems, just page me.” She patted a small plastic device clipped over a blue belt that matched her jumper. “We want your stay here to be as pleasant as possible.”

“Are all the patients assigned a coordinator?” asked Jennifer.

“They certainly are,” said Karen proudly. “The whole idea here is that the patient comes first. We don't want to leave anything to chance. There is too much opportunity for misunderstanding, especially now that medicine has become so highly technical. Doctors can sometimes become so engrossed in the treatment that the patient is momentarily forgotten. It's our job to keep that from happening.”

Jennifer watched as the woman said good-bye and disappeared around a planter. There was
something about her that Jennifer found strange, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

“Did her speech seem odd to you?” she asked Cheryl.

“I didn't understand what she was talking about. Is that what you mean?”

“No,” said Jennifer, turning to see if she could catch sight of the woman again. “I just thought there was something odd about the way she talked. But it must be me. I think morning sickness is affecting my brain.”

“At least she was friendly,” said Cheryl. “Wait until you meet Dr. Foley.”

A few minutes later a man came by and introduced himself as Rodney Murray. He was wearing a blue jacket made of the same heavy cotton as Karen's jumper with an identical tag announcing his name. His voice also had an odd flat quality, and as Jennifer stared at him, she realized that his eyes did not seem to blink.

“Everything is ready for you, Ms. Tedesco,” he said, fastening a plastic ID bracelet around Cheryl's wrist. “I'll be accompanying you upstairs, but first we have to go to the lab for your blood work and a few other tests.”

“Can Jennifer come with us?” asked Cheryl.

“Absolutely,” said Rodney.

The man was extraordinarily attentive to Cheryl, and after a few minutes Jennifer dismissed her initial impression as the working of an overwrought imagination.

The lab was expecting Cheryl, so they didn't have to wait. Again, Jennifer was impressed. She'd never been to a doctor's office or a hospital where she didn't have to wait for everything. Cheryl was finished in minutes.

As they rode up in the elevator, Rodney explained that Cheryl was going to a special area the hospital had for “pregnancy termination.” Jennifer noted that everyone at the Julian Clinic studiously avoided the word “abortion.” She felt it was a good idea. Abortion was an ugly word.

They got off at the sixth floor. Again, nothing about the floor resembled the average hospital. Instead of slick vinyl, the floor was covered with carpeting. The walls were painted a pale blue and hung with attractive framed prints.

Rodney took them to a central area that was carefully decorated not to look like a nurses' station. In front of the central station was a tastefully appointed lounge where five people dressed in what Jennifer assumed was the Julian uniform were waiting. Three of the women wore name tags indicating that they were RNs. Jennifer liked the fact that they were not dressed in the traditional starched white. She had the feeling that Karen was right: the Julian Clinic had thought of everything. She began to wonder if Dr. Vandermer had admitting privileges, since she was sure the delivery floor reflected the same attention to comfort.

“Ms. Tedesco, your room is right over here,” said one of the nurses who had introduced herself as Marlene Polaski. She was a broad, big-boned woman with short blond hair who looked around Cheryl's room as if she were checking every detail. She even opened the door to the toilet. Satisfied, she patted the bed and told Cheryl to slip out of her clothes and make herself comfortable.

The room, like the corridor, was as pleasantly furnished as one in a good hotel, except for the standard hospital bed. A television was set into the ceiling at an angle so that it could be viewed
comfortably from either the bed or the easy chair. The walls were light green with lots of built-in cabinets. The floor was covered with green carpet.

After changing into her own pajamas, Cheryl climbed into the bed.

Marlene whisked back into the room, pushing an IV cart. She explained to Cheryl that they needed an IV just for safety's sake. She started one deftly in Cheryl's left arm, carefully attaching a small arm board. Jennifer and Cheryl watched the drops falling in the millipore chamber. All at once it didn't seem so much like a hotel room.

“So,” said Marlene, putting on the last strips of tape. “We'll be taking you down to the treatment room in a few moments.” Then, turning to Jennifer, she said, “You are welcome to come along. That is, of course, if Cheryl will permit it. She's the boss.”

“Oh, yes!” said Cheryl, her face brightening. “Jennifer, you will come, won't you?”

The room seemed to spin momentarily. Jennifer felt as if she'd expected to go wading but instead was being thrown into the deep end of the pool. Both Marlene and Cheryl were looking at her expectantly.

“All right, I'll come,” she said finally.

Another nurse swept in with a syringe.

“Here's a little tranquilizer for you,” she said brightly as she pulled down Cheryl's sheet.

Jennifer turned to the window, vaguely studying the rooftop scene that she could see through the slats of the blinds. When she turned back, the nurse with the syringe was gone.

“Gangway,” called another voice as a gowned and hooded nurse pushed a gurney into the room and positioned it alongside Cheryl's bed.

“My name is Gale Schelin,” she said to Cheryl. “I know you don't really need this gurney and that you could walk down to the treatment room, but it's standard procedure for you to ride.”

Before Jennifer had time to think, she was helping to move Cheryl onto the gurney and then push her out of the room.

“All the way to the end of the hall,” directed Gale.

Outside the treatment room several orderlies took over the gurney. After the doors closed behind Cheryl, Jennifer felt relieved. Then Gale took her arm, saying, “You'll have to enter this way.”

“I don't think it's a good idea . . .” began Jennifer.

“Nonsense,” interrupted Gale. “I know what you're going to say. But this part of the procedure is nothing. The most important thing is Cheryl's outlook. It's important for her to have the kind of support that family can bring.”

“But I'm not family,” said Jennifer, wondering if she should add “and I'm pregnant myself.”

“Family or friend,” said Gale, “your presence is crucial. Here. Put this over your clothes and this over your hair. Make sure that all your hair is tucked in.” She handed Jennifer a sterile gown and hood. “Then come on in.” Gale disappeared through a connecting door.

Damn, thought Jennifer. She was in a storeroom fllled with linens and a large stainless-steel machine that looked like a boiler. Jennifer guessed it was a sterilizer. Reluctantly, she put on a hood, tucking in her hair as she was advised. Then she put on the gown and tied it across her abdomen.

The connecting door opened and Gale returned, eyeing Jennifer as she opened the latch on the sterilizer. “You're fine. Go right in and stand to
the left. If you feel faint or anything, just come back in here.” There was a hiss as steam escaped from the machine.

Taking a deep breath, Jennifer went into the treatment room.

It looked just like she had imagined it would. The walls were white tile and the floor some sort of white vinyl. There was a white porcelain sink mounted on the wall and glass-fronted cabinets filled with medical paraphernalia along one side of the room.

Cheryl had been transferred to an examination table that stood in the center of the room. Next to it was a stand that supported a tray with a collection of stainless-steel bowls and plastic tubing. Against the far wall was an anesthesia cart with the usual cylinders of gas attached.

There were two nurses in the room. One of them was washing Cheryl's abdomen, while the other was busy opening various packets and dropping the contents onto the instrument tray.