The Doctor and Mr. Dylan (21 page)

“I expect she’s right. Get some sleep, son.”

Johnny went upstairs into his bedroom, and five minutes later I heard him snoring. I envied him. I wasn’t so lucky. I was too wired by the events of the day—I couldn’t calm myself. I couldn’t sleep and I was lonely. I dialed Lena’s number.

“How’re you doing?” I said.

“Exhausted. Depressed.”

“I miss you. Want some company?”

She sighed. “Sure. I’ll leave the door open. I’m going to lie down. Let yourself in.”

“I’ll be right over.”

I snuck into Lena’s bed and stretched out alongside her. Her soft breathing soothed me, and I felt more at peace. I set my phone alarm for 6 a.m. so I could return home before Johnny woke up. I wrapped my arm around Lena, and cupped her breast in my palm. She cooed, “Thanks. I love you,” and didn’t wake up. I fell asleep without another word.

The bleating of my cell phone woke me from slumber. My first thought was that something was wrong with Johnny. I looked at my phone, and was surprised and dismayed by the caller ID. It was Alexandra. At 4:52 a.m. Alexandra was calling me?

I debated not answering. Nothing good could come from talking to Alexandra at this hour of the morning. Lena pulled a pillow over her head and grumbled her discontent. I picked up the call just to silence the ring tone.

“Nico?” Alexandra said, her voice edgy and pressured. “I’m sick. I thought it was some bad food I ate on the plane to Minnesota, or the crap beer I had at your house, but I have pain in my abdomen that won’t go away. I’m sitting in the Emergency Room at the Hibbing hospital right now. I’m in the worst pain of my life.”

She was hysterical, unable to finish a sentence between sobs. I sat upright in bed, my sleep invaded by her presence. Alexandra was the ultimate taker. I was the biggest piece of shit in the world until she needed medical attention, at which point I became exalted to the lofty role of Alexandra’s Medical Helper. I was about to hang up, but her next sentence trapped me. “They say I need to have my appendix out. They’re calling in some lumberjack doctor named Perpich to do the surgery.”

“You’re going to be OK. That lumberjack doctor is Michael Perpich, a colleague of mine who’s very capable of taking out your appendix. I’d let him operate on me anytime.”

“This can’t be happening. With all the doctor friends we have in California, why do I have to get sick up here in the boonies where nobody knows who I am?”

I had no interest in listening to her complain. “Can you put the emergency room doctor on the phone for me? I’d like to talk to him.”

“OK. Here he is.”

After a short pause, a voice said, “This is Dr. Bellamy.”

“Hi, my name is Nicolai Antone. I’m an anesthesiologist on staff.”

“Sure, I know who you are.”

“Thanks. I’m the husband of Alexandra Antone who you’re attending to now. We’re separated, and I have no interest in being at her bedside right now, but she called me. What’s going on with her?”

“She had the onset of periumbilical pain and vomiting last night. She arrived at the E.R. at 1 a.m. Her fever was 102.1, and her abdominal exam was positive for peritoneal signs. The ultrasound shows an inflamed appendix.”

“Does she need emergency surgery or can it wait?”

“She’s stable. I have the surgeon coming in to see her. But knowing Perpich, he’ll operate when the sun comes up.”

“Who’s on call for anesthesia?”

There was a pause on the line as Bellamy checked the schedule. He said, “Dylan. Bobby Dylan.”

I scoffed to myself. They deserved each other, Alexandra and Bobby. They could argue about abortions at six in the morning.

“Thanks for taking such good care of her,” I said. “Can you put her back on the phone?”

“Here she is.”

I steeled myself, because one of my least favorite pastimes was telling Alexandra news she didn’t want to hear. “It sounds like you will need to have your appendix out. You’ll feel a whole lot better after the operation. They’ll do it through a laparoscope. It won’t be a big incision. You’ll hurt less after the surgery than you do right now.”

“Can you come in here and take care of me? I don’t trust these people.”

I looked at the clock. It was now 5:00 a.m. There were limits to my compassion. Alexandra had been kicking me for so long that I felt little obligation to service her. “No. I just talked to Dr. Bellamy, and they’re doing all the right things. You’ll be all right without me.” I almost added, “You always have been.”

“Please,” she pleaded again.

“No.”

“Fine,” she said in an angry tone that made it clear that things were anything but fine. The line went dead. I curled myself around Lena, and tried to turn my mind off again. I had no such luck this time. My thoughts were rubber balls bouncing down an endless spiral staircase.

Lena stirred. “What was that all about?”

“It was my crazy wife. She’s at the hospital. She needs to have her appendix out, and she’s scared. Whenever Alexandra gets sick, she wants me to turn into her guardian angel, but I’m not taking care of her. Bobby’s on call. It’s his problem.”

Lena rolled onto me and turned off her alarm clock. I liked the feel of her there, lying on top. “You sleep some more,” she said. “I’m getting up. I have to be at work by six.”

She kissed me then, and I drifted back into peaceful sleep.

My phone rang and woke me a second time. Lena was gone, and I was alone in her bed. The phone call was from Alexandra again. The clock read 5:58 a.m. What kind of drama was she spawning now? I answered the call and said, “What is it?”

Alexandra was hysterical, bawling into the phone. “Nico, I’m waiting outside the operating room at the hospital, and I have a problem.”

“What’s the problem?”

“The problem is this asshole named Bobby Dylan. He’s not touching me in a million years.”

“Why not?”

“You know why. He’s the father of Johnny’s girlfriend, and he’s a dick. He’s rude and stupid and he’s not even a doctor. I can tell he’s mad at me, and I don’t trust him. I’m sure his wife and daughter told him all kinds of trash about me from yesterday. I refuse to let him take care of me. My surgeon tells me you’re the only other option I have.”

“That’s not going to happen. There must be another anesthetist available. I’ll call the charge nurse.” I hung up and rang the operating room front desk. Roberta Selvo answered the phone. “What’s the situation for anesthesia staffing this morning?” I said.

“Dylan’s on call. He’s here. He’s going to do the add-on case, your wife’s surgery.”

“Is anyone else available?”

“No. It’s a weekend. None of the other anesthetists are around. Sheldon, Avery, and Commons are all out of town. You’re the only backup.”

“Damn it. My wife is refusing to let Dylan take care of her.”

“Are you available?”

“I can’t be my wife’s doctor.”

“Of course you can. I’ve heard you two might be getting divorced, but she is the mother of your son. Can’t you come in, just for this one case? Wait a minute. Dr. Perpich is right here. He wants to talk to you.”

Dr. Michael Perpich’s scratchy voice came over the phone. “Nico, we have a problem here, as you’ve heard. Do me a favor. Can you please give this one anesthetic? I reviewed the ultrasound, and she needs surgery. It’s imperative there are minimal delays. I don’t want this appendix to rupture, and I’m supposed to be in Duluth to watch my son’s hockey game at one o’clock this afternoon. Your wife needs surgery, and before that can happen she needs an anesthetic.”

Dr. Perpich was my friend. He was a gentleman and a humanitarian. It was hard to say no to Perp. I paced across Lena’s kitchen and opened the refrigerator. My mouth was parched, and I plucked a bottle of orange juice from the top shelf. As I stood there, squinting in the bright light of the top shelf, I saw the day with clarity. This was an opportunity. “Very well,” I said to Perpich. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I returned to Dom’s house before I went to the hospital. The water was running in the shower upstairs, a sign that Johnny was awake. He joined me in the kitchen a few minutes later. Even though Nordic winds were rattling the windows, Johnny wore his default uniform of Nike sweat pants and a T-shirt. His hair was wet and he hadn’t shaved, but the bounce had returned to Johnny’s step.

“Get any rest?” I said.

“Yep. I feel pretty good.”

“I got a call from your mother in the middle of the night. She’s in the hospital with appendicitis. She’s going to have surgery this morning.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Dr. Perpich is taking out her appendix.”

“That’s crazy. Are you going to take care of her?”

“I am.”

Johnny shot me a doubtful look. “Will that be hard for you? To be her doctor?”

“I only have to spend ten minutes with her before she’s asleep. I can handle anything for ten minutes.”

“Can I see her before you start?”

“Of course. Are you ready to leave?”

Johnny checked his look in the living room mirror, ran his fingers through his hair, and said, “I am. I can’t wait to see Echo again. Dad, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“If Echo and I decide to keep the baby, can I count on you to help us out?”

“Help you out?”

“Yeah. We’d need money and a place to live for a while. Would you do that for us?”

I looked at my son’s pleading expression. It was inconceivable that Johnny go unrescued, but it was just as inconceivable that he could be changing diapers nine months from now. “I love you, son, and I’ve always thought Echo was terrific. If you decide you want to go through with this, I’ll stand by you. I think you’re both way too young, but she’s pregnant. If she keeps the baby, you’re going to be a father. I’ll help you out.”

“Thanks. You’re a great dad. Let’s go.”

I stood in front of the whiteboard and examined the surgical schedule. Alexandra’s appendectomy was booked for Room #4. Michael Perpich was listed as the surgeon, and Bobby Dylan was still listed as the anesthetist. I found Roberta Selvo and told her, “I’m doing the anesthetic for my wife.”

“Of course, Doctor.” She erased Dylan’s name and printed my name in its place. “The patient is in the operating room already. Dr. Perpich is in a bit of a hurry. He’s been waiting almost an hour.”

I remember every minute detail of that fateful day. I remember Bobby Dylan exiting the doorway of O.R. #4 as I approached the room. His head and face were covered with the surgical hat and mask. Dylan’s eyes were hidden under the dark shadow of his brow. “Your old lady’s ready to go,” he said. “I put all the monitors on her because Perpich asked me to keep things moving. Her vital signs are normal. She didn’t want me to take care of her, and I didn’t want to take care of her. That’s about the only thing the two of us agreed on.”

It was our first meeting since Dylan had pointed the shotgun at me. There were no guns this morning, but the emotions were no less raw. He pulled off his mask to reveal a malevolent sneer. “Nothing’s changed between you and me, Doctor. Lena’s still my wife, Echo’s still my daughter, and I still want you and your son to take your wandering pricks and go back to California.” He brushed past me, headed for the locker room, and said, “By the way, your wife’s a bitch. I see why you ran away. If you’re lucky, she’ll never wake up.”

I frowned. It was an odd thing to say, but Bobby Dylan was an odd guy. I walked inside O.R. #4, and found Alexandra lying awake on the operating room table.

I took control of her anesthetic then, and my life was forever changed.

CHAPTER 17

TO SLEEP, PERCHANCE TO DIE

Alexandra reclined awake on the operating room table. Her eyes were closed, and she was unaware I’d entered the room. She was dressed in a faded paisley surgical gown, and she looked like a spook—her hair flying out from a bouffant cap, her eye makeup smeared from crying, and the creases on her forehead looking deeper than I’d ever seen them. I stood above her and felt distanced from the whole situation. I had little empathy for her sickness.  

The circulating nurse that morning was Gina Littlefoot, a chatty Native American woman in her 60’s. Gina busied herself trying to converse with Alexandra. Gina’s verbal diarrhea sounded more like a monologue. “I think the air here in Northern Minnesota is so invigorating. You can smell the freshness. I’ve been to the West Coast and I remember the smog in L.A. was so opaque you couldn’t see mountains that were two miles away. It’s ironic that you could be in good health at home in California and then get sick when you visited us in God’s Country. And our water Up North? I wish I could start a company to bottle our water and sell it all over the world. It’s that wonderful.”

Alexandra opened her eyes for the first time and moaned, “Oh, God. Can you people just get this over with? I feel like crap. When is Nico going to get here?”

“I’m three feet away from you,” I said.

Alexandra’s face lit up at the sound of my voice. She craned her neck to look at me and said, “You’re here. For a change I’m glad to see you.”