Peggy said, “It’s a bad virus. I didn’t think it was going to be, but it’s turning into a train wreck. I hope we learn quickly how to deal with it.”
“Me too,” Faith said. “I just can’t get past Reyenne.”
“I understand. In obstetrics we have occasional fetal or newborn deaths, but we almost never have maternal deaths. In fact, I have personally never had one.” Peggy added, “I don’t know how oncologists do it. Take care of a patient for years only to have them die.”
“How do we deal with this?” Josh asked.
“We have to be confident that we did all we could,” Peggy said. “We have to feel good about what we did, not what we could have done or should have done. A few months from now, when we know a lot more about this virus, we have to try not to kick ourselves for not doing what we then know might have saved her. We don’t know it now, and we don’t have it now.”
Faith’s face reflected her distress. “Not so easy. I keep thinking, what if it was Natalie?”
“Oh, no,” Peggy said. “It’s not easy. I don’t pretend it is. I keep thinking what if it was my wife, sister, nieces, or my brother-in-law who has serious lung issues?”
“It still could be,” Josh said. “I have a feeling this isn’t over. I’ve read that we’re going to have a short, violent wave followed by a longer, less dramatic wave before we have the medications and vaccines necessary to slow it down. Masks and isolation are only so good.”
“But that means it could be a year or two!” Faith said. “We’re in for a long haul. And I’m going to have a baby in the middle of it?”
“Thankfully,” Peggy said, “your baby is not at high risk of severe disease or death. You are, because of your pregnancy and your Humira, but not your baby.”
“I’ve read that too,” Josh said. “I hope that holds up as we learn more about it.”
“You’re at risk, Peggy,” Faith said. “Probably more than me.”
“I think so, too. Old, fat, and diabetic.” She snickered. “I’ll try to be careful, but I’m not scared of it.”
“I worry about her mom,” Josh said. “If I can use your words, Peggy, she’s fat, not as old, and diabetic.”
“Time will tell,” Faith said.
“Let’s just be careful, wear masks and face shields, wash our hands, and hope for the best.” Leaving the room, it was Josh who closed the door which quietly rattled at Peggy.
A few minutes shy of noon, the conference room had the whole obstetric team, a few with lunches. Low conversation ended abruptly when Emily entered. She took a seat at the end of the table, arranged a yellow legal pad, and unwrapped a sandwich. She made eye contact with Peggy.
“We are concerned about tonight,” Josh stated. “We are facing coronavirus patients, one of whom could well die tonight, with our weakest attending.”
“We need help with this,” Ann added. “I am not sure what we expect of you, but we are frankly scared of him in this current mess.”
“Are you thinking he’s not up to the task?”
Haley blurted, “He’s not up to the task.”
“Peggy, what do you have to say?” Emily asked.
“I’m only here to support them.” She knew Emily was informed about the night of the missing Brian.
Emily squirmed in her chair, ignored her sandwich, and then scribbled.
“Peggy, can you take call tonight?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Thank you for coming, everybody. Thank you for bringing this to my attention and not just putting up with it. I promise I will take care of it. As you just heard, you have Dr Valdez for tonight.”
“I think we also need a long-term solution to this problem,” Josh said, then realized it might have been redundant.
“I recognize that,” she answered, apparently unannoyed. “I won’t let you down. If you’ll excuse me, I have pressing tasks at hand. Please stay, eat, and enjoy yourselves. Have a good night.”
She left the room. Peggy had to think about the magnitude of the problem Emily faced. An employee with substance abuse is always a nightmare, irrespective of which substance, how severe, how longstanding, or the rank and status of the individual. There were no nice ways to crawl through that briar patch.
That evening as Josh was leaving for home, a phone call came from Faith. “Don’t leave yet. I want to talk.”
“OK. Where are you?”
“I’m just finishing up with a delivery. I’ll be at the charting station in a few minutes. Where are you?”
“At the charting station.”
“I’ll be there.”
Ricky approached. “I’m glad we took care of Yankton. He’s a moron.”
“Yeah,” Josh agreed.
Ricky was scurrying off as Faith approached. “Do you think there is something going on with Brian?” she asked.
“What makes you ask that?” Josh asked. “What part of being a butt makes you think something is going on?”
“He is changing and changing rapidly. I can’t help thinking that I have contributed. After all, I dragged him to Albuquerque, then I kicked him out of his home, and now I have divorced him.”
“Wait, Faith. Stop thinking like that.” Josh said. “He came to Albuquerque, he didn’t have to do that. He had an affair, he didn’t have to do that. He has built venomous relationships with us, he could have been congenial.”
“I know.”
“But he is doing that, we aren’t,” Josh said. “That’s not on us or on you.”
“I just think he is changing, getting worse. I can’t help thinking something else is going on. Maybe the chlamydia woman, maybe work, maybe me and my divorce. Maybe he knows I’m pregnant.”
“How could he know? We haven’t told anyone.”
“You know how something like that could travel. Haley, someone in the office, something he saw at my house on one of his trips there. I guess he hasn’t been there recently enough for that.”
“I think he is struggling against his own demons.”
“I just hope he has a way to deal with them.” The change-of-subject face appeared. “We could ask Cori.”
“What’s up with Brian, Cori?” Josh said. “How should she know? Brian’s not her dad.”
“I know. I just like to talk to her.”
Josh kissed her. “I’m going home to bed.” It was the night-after-call for him.
“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”
Chapter 27
The frosted glass rattled. Peggy turned to see Brian almost dance across the floor.
“I had a good appointment with my orthopedic surgeon, and an interesting time in Pain Management Clinic.”
“Yeah?” Peggy said. “I would have thought that would rattle your cage and stir up your anger.”
“Well,” Brian said, “it did a little. But the way they approached it was opposite to what I had thought.”
“Tell me more.”
Brian scooted a chair up leaving the six feet open. “Dr Ballinger said that all I need for the knee is physical therapy, and I have an appointment. Pain management had me fill out some questionnaires, and then I took an MMPI. I thought that was outdated.”
“Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory,” Peggy said. “I don’t think I’ve talked or heard about that since my anesthesiology residency. We did use it on patients in the pain clinic where patterns of results helped us focus on—”
“They said I have conversion reaction, but also that my depression scale is high. They say I am converting stress and life challenges into physical symptoms.”
“Yes, that happens, and it’s common. It can make new symptoms, or it can magnify minor symptoms you already have,” Peggy said. “As I remember, to make the diagnosis of conversion reaction, an elevated depression scale was required. What else did they say?”