Then he snatched the wall phone and made two loud phone calls. First he called the Director of the hospital, Stanley Drake, then he called the Chief of Radiology, Dr. Harold Goldblatt, insisting to each that he wanted something done about Martin Philips. Both men listened in silence: Mannerheim was a powerful individual within the hospital community.
Philips was not the kind of person who got angry very often, but by the time he reached his office, he was steaming.
Helen looked up when he appeared. "Remember you've got the medical-student lecture in fifteen minutes."
Philips mumbled under his breath as he walked by her. To his surprise Denise was sitting in front of his alternator studying McCarthy's and Collins" charts. She looked up when he came in. "How about a bite of lunch, old man?"
"I don't have time for lunch," snapped Philips, throwing himself into his chair.
"You're in a wonderful mood."
Leaning his elbows on the desk, he covered his face with his hands. There was a moment of silence. Denise put the charts down and stood up.
"I'm sorry," said Martin through his fingers. "It's been a trying morning. This hospital is capable of erecting unbelievable barriers to any enlightened inquiry. I might have stumbled onto an important radiological find, but the hospital seems determined to discourage me from looking into it."
"Hegel wrote: 'Nothing great in the world has been accomplished without passion,' " Denise said with a twinkle. Her undergraduate major had been philosophy and she'd discovered that Martin enjoyed her ability to quote some of the great thinkers.
Philips finally took his hands from his face and smiled. "I could have used a little more passion last night."
"Leave it to you to interpret the word in that context. That's hardly what Hegel meant. Anyway, I'm going to have some lunch. You sure you can't join me?"
"Not a chance. I've got a lecture with the medical students."
Denise started toward the door. "By the way, as I was going through those charts of Collins and McCarthy I noticed both had several atypical Pap smears." Denise paused at the door.
"I thought their GYN exams were normal," said Philips.
"Everything was normal except the Pap smears on both patients. They were atypical, meaning they weren't frankly pathological, just not perfectly normal."
"Is that uncommon?"
"No, but it's supposed to be followed up until the test is normal. I didn't see any normal reports. Well, it's probably nothing. Just thought I'd mention it. Bye!"
Philips waved but stayed at his desk, trying to recall Lisa Marino's chart. It seemed to him that he remembered the Pap smear being mentioned there as well. Leaning out into the hall, Philips caught Helen's attention: "Remind me to head down to Gynecology Clinic this afternoon."
At 1:05 P.M., armed with his carousel labeled "CAT Scanner Introductory Lecture," Philips entered the Walowski Memorial Conference room. It was a far cry from the rest of the Department of Radiology, which was utilitarian and crammed into inadequate space. The conference room was inordinately plush, looking more like a Hollywood screening room than a hospital auditorium. The chairs were upholstered with a soft corduroy and arranged in tiers, giving each an unobstructed view of the screen. When Philips entered, the room was already filled.
He put his carousel on the projector and mounted the podium. The students quickly settled into their chairs, giving him their attention. Philips dimmed the lights and flipped on the first slide.
The lecture was polished. Philips had given it many times. It began with the origin of the concept of the CAT scanner by Mr. Godfrey Hornsfield of England, followed by a chronological recounting of its development. Philips very carefully emphasized that although an X-ray tube was used, the picture that resulted was really a mathematical reconstruction after a computer had analyzed the information. Once the students understood that basic concept, he felt the major point of the lecture had been accomplished.
As he talked, Martin's mind began to wander. He was so familiar with the material that it made no difference. His admiration of the people who had developed the CAT scanner included a touch of jealousy. But then he realized that if his own research proved out, he was going to be catapulted into the scientific limelight. His work might have even a more revolutionary impact on diagnostic radiology. It would certainly put him in contention for a Nobel prize.
In the middle of a sentence describing the CAT scanner's ability to pick up tumors, Philips' beeper went off. Turning up the lights, he excused himself and ran to the phone. Philips knew Helen would not page him except in an emergency. But the operator told him it was an outside call, and before he could protest, he was connected to Dr. Donald Travis.
"Donald," said Martin, putting his hand around the receiver. "I'm in the middle of a lecture, can I call you back?"
"Hell no!" yelled Travis. "I've wasted a good portion of my morning looking for your mythical middle-of-the-night transfer."
"You can't find Lynn Anne Lucas?"
"No. In fact, there hasn't been any God-damn transfer from the Med Center for the last week."
"That's strange. I was distinctly told New York Medical Center. Look, I'll speak to Admitting, but please check once more, it's important."
Philips hung up the phone, but let his hand remain on the receiver for a moment. Dealing with bureaucracy was almost as bad as dealing with the likes of Mannerheim. Heading back to the podium, he tried to pick up the pieces of the lecture, but his concentration was completely broken. For the first time since he began teaching, he claimed a false emergency and wound up the lecture.
Back at his office, Helen apologized for the interruption, saying that Dr. Travis was insistent. Philips told her it was all right and she followed him into his office reeling off his messages. She said that the Director of the hospital, Stanley Drake, had called twice and wanted a call back as soon as possible. She said that Dr. Robert McNeally had called from Houston, asking if Dr. Philips would chair the Neuroradiology section at the annual radiology convention in New Orleans. She said he needed an answer within the week. She started to go on to the next topic when Philips abruptly raised his hand.
"That's enough for now!" said Philips.
"But there's more."
"I know there's more. There's always more."
Helen was taken aback. "Are you going to call Mr. Drake?"
"No. You call him and tell him I'm too busy to call him today and I'll speak to him tomorrow."
Helen had the sense enough to know when to leave her boss alone.
Standing on the threshold of his office. Philips looked around the room. The mess made by the stacks of skull films had been removed and in their place were the morning's angiograms. At least his head technician, Kenneth Robbins, had things under control.
Work was Philips' stability. So he sat down, picked up the microphone and began to dictate. He had come to the last angiogram when he realized someone had entered the office and was standing behind him. Expecting Denise, Philips was surprised to look up into the smiling face of Stanley Drake, the Director of the hospital.
To Philips' way of thinking, Drake resembled a smooth, styled politician. He was always very natty in his dark blue pinstriped three-piece suit and gold watch chain. He wore his silk ties with a stud so they stood out horizontally from his starched white shirt. He was the only person Philips knew who still wore large French cufflinks. Somehow he always managed to look tan, even during a rainy April in New York.
Philips turned back to his angiogram and continued dictating. "In conclusion, the patient has a large arteriovenous malformation of the left basal ganglia area supplied by the left middle cerebral and left posterior cerebral choroidal artery. Period. End of Dictation. Thank you."