Welcome to the World, Baby Girl! (29 page)

When she came to, she and Jonni were in the back of a police car with the siren going on the way to the hospital, and before she knew it she was in the emergency room with doctors examining her, talking about the possibility of emergency surgery. After a few minutes, like a parting of the waters, the doctors and nurses stepped aside as Dr. Michael DeBakey, still in his tux from the dinner, walked in and took over.

He smiled and talked to Dena as he examined her. “Well, young lady, it looks like you have decided to stay with us for a while, so we are going to do everything possible to make you comfortable. You know, you were quite a hit at the banquet—you had quite a few doctors who volunteered to take your case. But I said no luck, fellows, she came here in my honor so I’m the one who gets her as my patient. How long have you had trouble with your stomach?”

“Not long,” Dena lied.

He continued to check her out thoroughly, then said to his staff, “No need to prep.” He took Dena’s hand. “You’re going to live. And what I’m going to do is give you a little something to help you with that pain and Miss Reid here is going to be in charge of you.” An older nurse stepped up, smiling. “We’re going to take a little blood,” he continued. “Then we’re going to take you upstairs and put you to bed so I can keep an eye on you. OK? I’ll stop in and see you in the morning.”

The next day Dena was still asleep when Dr. DeBakey looked in.
Jonni, tired and frazzled after a night in the waiting room, said, “Doctor, is she all right? It wasn’t a heart attack, was it?”

“No, Miss Hartman, her heart is fine. She had a severe attack of gastroenteritis—inflammation of the stomach lining—probably brought on by stress.”

“Thank God it happened here, Doctor. And I hate to bother you … but I need to know how long it will be before you think she might be back up on her feet. I don’t care, but the head of network publicity has already called me a dozen times to see if I can give them an idea when she might be able to continue her tour. They need to know how many cities they have to cancel and how soon she will be able to do at least some phone interviews. They’re hoping she can pick up in Denver on Wednesday.”

Dr. DeBakey pointed to the paper she was holding. “Is that her schedule?”

“Yes.”

DeBakey put on his glasses and studied it. Jonni said, “You can see she has quite a few more cities coming up.”

“Oh, yes, I can see that.”

“And they need to know as soon as possible.”

“Uh-huh. And just who wants this information?”

“It’s my boss. I mean, he’s really upset and hopes she’ll be able to—”

“And who might that be?”

“Mr. Brill, Andy Brill.”

“Do you have a number where he can be reached?”

“Yes; 212-555-2866.”

“OK, Miss Hartman. I’ll get back to the gentleman.”

“Oh, thank you, that would be great. He’s really coming down hard on me. I told him it was out of my hands.”

“Don’t worry, it is. You go and get some rest.” DeBakey, a tall, thin man, walked down the hall, reached in the pocket of his white coat, and pulled out a few almonds and ate them. He stopped and talked to an intern, checked on three more patients, and then went into his private office. He handed his secretary, Sylvia, the phone number. “Get this guy on the phone for me, will you?” When she buzzed he picked up.

“Mr. Brill, this is Dr. DeBakey in Houston.”

Andrew Brill was audibly chomping at the bit. “Great, thanks for calling.”

“I understand you are anxious to have a report on Miss Nordstrom’s condition.”

“That’s right, we need to have some idea when she might be able to pick up her schedule. We’ve got people screaming all over the country. We’ve already lost Dallas but I was thinking maybe she could do a few phoners this afternoon. Do you think there’s a chance she can get back by, say, Tuesday, or maybe Wednesday, latest?”

“Let me ask you a question, Mr. Brill.”

“Yes?”

“Are you people trying to kill her? Miss Hartman showed me her schedule. How could you expect anyone to keep going at that pace?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think you understand. This thing has been booked for over six months. We’ve got commitments here.”

“Mr. Brill, I don’t think
you
understand. This girl is suffering from extreme exhaustion and serious stomach distress brought on by exhaustion and stress.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that as long as she is my patient, she is not leaving this hospital for at least two weeks. You can expect her back at work in maybe a month. Would you like that in writing? I’ll be happy to send it along. And if she does go back any sooner, and if anything happens to her health as a result, I’m perfectly prepared to go on record that your network was forewarned.”

“Forewarned? Do you have any idea how much this is going to cost us to cancel this tour? We can’t just—”

DeBakey interrupted. “If you have any other questions, please feel free to call my office—collect—at any time.”

Red-faced with rage, Brill slammed the phone down and yelled at his assistant, who was waiting to find out if Dena would be on the early morning plane, “That son of a bitch says he’s gonna keep her there for two weeks. Just who the hell does he think he is?”

Thirty minutes later at an emergency meeting with the network lawyers, Brill was informed that Dr. DeBakey was exactly who he thought he was, one of the most powerful and respected doctors in the world. They knew they couldn’t buy him off and they were afraid to cross him, at least in public.

When Macky and Norma Warren came in from church, their phone was ringing. Norma picked it up, her purse still hanging on her arm.

“Mrs. Macky Warren?”

“Yes?”

“Mrs. Warren, my name is Jonni Hartman and I work with network news public relations and I’m calling to let you know that your relative, Dena Nordstrom, is in the hospital here.”

Norma did not let her finish, put her hand over the receiver, and screamed at her husband. “Macky, I told you not to kill that cricket. Baby Girl is in the hospital!” She turned back to the phone. “Oh, my God … what’s the matter with her?”

“Mrs. Warren, I don’t want to alarm you, but—”

“Don’t tell me she’s been in an accident. Don’t tell me she’s been hurt; I can’t stand it. I’ll go to pieces. Here … you have to talk to my husband.”

She thrust the phone at Macky as if it were on fire.

Macky took the phone, while Norma wailed in the background, “If she’s dead, just don’t tell me, I can’t stand it. I knew something like this was going to happen.”

“Norma, be quiet. Hello, this is her husband. What’s going on?”

“Mr. Warren, this is Jonni Hartman and I didn’t want to alarm you. I just wanted to call and let you know Dena’s in the hospital but OK, in case you might hear something on the news. I’m here with her at the Houston, Texas, Medical Center and Dr. DeBakey has just examined her and said she had a pretty severe attack of gastroenteritis.”

Macky nodded. “I see. Is this considered life threatening?”

Norma wailed again. “Don’t say she’s dying!”

“Oh, no, Mr. Warren. It’s just a pretty severe stomachache as far as I can tell. The doctor says all she needs is a little rest.”

“I see.”

“If she’s dead”—Norma threw her hands up in the air—“I don’t want to know.”

Macky said, “Miss Hartman, could you hold on for a second?” He put his hand over the receiver. “Norma, she’s not dead. Now be quiet and let me talk to the woman!” Norma covered her mouth with her hands to keep herself quiet. “Miss Hartman, I can be there just as soon as I can get a plane out of here.”

“Mr. Warren, I really don’t think that’s necessary. I think it would be better to wait and see how long the doctor is going to keep her. She might be released by the time you get here.”

“I see. Well, how is she doing right now? Can we talk to her?”

Norma couldn’t control herself. “Is she asking for us? Macky, ask her if she wants to talk to us.”

“Mr. Warren, the doctor gave her something and she’s sleeping right now and from what I gather he does not want her disturbed. He put a No Visitors sign on her door. I’m not even allowed in.”

Macky nodded again. “I see. What about her family? Should we be there when she wakes up?”

Norma gasped and clutched her purse to her chest. “Mother of God, she’s in a coma, I knew it—”

“Norma, she’s
fine.
Now, sit down.”

“Mr. Warren, I really don’t want you and your wife to worry. She has the best doctor in the country, Michael E. DeBakey.”

Macky was impressed. “The heart transplant doctor?”

He anticipated Norma’s reaction and caught her just before she
started to scream
heart transplant.
“No, Norma, it’s not her heart, that’s her doctor.”

“Her doctor? Her doctor has had a heart transplant?”

“Norma, he’s
fine.
”

Norma stood up. “Oh, I can’t stand it, Macky, you’re not asking the right questions. Give me the phone. Miss Hartman, this is Norma again. Is this doctor good? Because we have a doctor right here in town that we can get, one that’s in good health.”

Macky shook his head in disbelief and said in a quiet, steely voice, “Norma, give me the phone and go sit down.”

Reluctantly, she handed it back. “Well, you have to ask about these things.”

“Miss Hartman, we really appreciate your call and I would also appreciate it if you could call us tomorrow and let us know how she’s doing.”

Norma said, “Tomorrow? Tell her to call us in an hour; she could be dead by tomorrow.”

“I sure will, Mr. Warren, and really, she’s OK.”

Macky put the phone down and Norma grabbed for it but missed.

“Why did you hang up? We don’t know where she is.”

“Yes, we do. She’s at the Houston Medical Center.”

“Houston, Texas? Texas? What is she doing in Texas?”

“I don’t know, honey, but she’s OK now, just calm down.”

“Macky, I don’t know how you can stand there and be so calm. Baby Girl is lying up in a strange cowboy hospital with some sick doctor, my God, halfway across the country.”

“Norma, it’s not that far.”

“Well, we can’t tell Aunt Elner, she’ll get too upset. And she’s liable to have a heart attack, too. That’s all we need right now, two people in the hospital at the same time.”

Macky took Norma by the shoulders and led her over to the sofa. “Norma, listen to me. She’s in one of the best hospitals in the country and has one of the best doctors and all she has is just a pretty bad stomachache, that’s all. The doctor said she has gastroenteritis.”

“What?”

“Gastroenteritis.”

“Well, I’ve never heard of it. How did she catch it?”

“I don’t know, honey.”

“Is it some kind of Texas thing?”

“Probably not.”

Norma jumped up and went to the phone. “Well, I’m calling Dr. Clyde and asking him.”

As Norma was dialing, Macky said, “I give up. Do what you want, you’re going to anyway.”

Norma said, “Macky, get me some vanilla ice cream in a dish, I’m a nervous wreck. Look, my hands are shaking like a leaf.… I can hardly dial the—Tootie? It’s Norma Warren, is he there? Well, tell him I need to speak to him right away. Yes, it is. Macky, give me two scoops, I’m—Oh, Dr. Clyde … this is Norma and I need to ask you a question. Is there a disease called gastro inter-something? Hold on.” She called to the kitchen. “Macky, gastro what?”

“Enteritis, I think.”

“He says enteritis, he thinks. Macky, did that woman say gastroenteritis? Yes, that’s it.” She turned away from the phone. “Macky, he says, yes, there is, only it’s a condition, not a disease. No, Doctor, we don’t have it, it’s Baby Girl.”

Macky came in and handed her a bowl of ice cream and took her purse from her.

“Thank you, honey. No, I was talking to my husband. What kind of condition?” She repeated everything she heard in a loud voice. “It’s an inflammation of the stomach lining … uh … caused by too much acid. Usually brought on by stress. Did you hear that, Macky? Well, Macky was right, he said she was working too hard and now look what’s happened. She can’t die of it, can she? Ahhh, he says no, he doesn’t think so. Well, thank heavens for that. I was … oh … OK, yes, in that case you better get on back. Thank you, Doctor.” She hung up.

“See, she’s not going to die,” Macky said. “Now, don’t you feel better?”

“Not yet.”

An hour later, she picked up the phone in the kitchen and dialed Aunt Elner while Macky made himself a ham and cheese sandwich.

“Aunt Elner, were you taking a nap? It’s Norma. Put on your
hearing aid, honey. Can you hear me? Well … now that we know it’s not life threatening, the tale can be told. Are you sitting down? Well, go sit down. Are you seated? I don’t want you falling out with a stroke. Well, the whole thing started last night at about ten-thirty. We had been in bed for about an hour when we heard a cricket in the living room and Macky got up without his glasses on and stepped on it and killed it! I
know
it’s bad luck to kill a cricket, that’s probably the reason Baby Girl wound up in the hospital in the first place!”