As the lounge chair she was sitting in was low with high arms, Jennifer had to struggle to get to her feet. She couldn’t just sit there with the disturbing worry about her grandmother. She also knew that even the slight possibility that the news release involved her grandmother was going to make it near impossible to concentrate when she met her new preceptor. She had to find out for certain, which meant she was going to have to do something she was loath to do — call her hated, lazy-ass father.
Jennifer had barely spoken to her father since she was nine, preferring to pretend he didn’t exist, which was somewhat difficult, as they were all living together in such tight quarters. In that regard, it had been a relief since she’d come to L.A., as she hadn’t spoken to him at all. During her first year, if he ever happened to answer the phone when she’d called Maria, she just hung up and would try later when she was certain her grandmother would be home. But mostly she let her grandmother call her, which her grandmother did on a regular basis. Even the phone was no longer a problem when her grandmother, at Jennifer’s insistence, got a mobile phone and allocated the land line to Jennifer’s father. As far as Jennifer visiting New York was concerned, she hadn’t done it for four years. It was partly because of her father and partly because of the expense. Instead, she’d had her grandmother come out to the West Coast every six months or so. Maria had loved it. She’d told Jennifer that for her, coming to California to see Jennifer was the most exciting thing she’d done in her whole life.
Inside the women’s locker room, Jennifer undid the safety pin that held her locker key, opened her locker, and got out her cell phone. After walking around the room and searching, she was happy to find a hot spot with an adequate signal. She dialed, and as she waited for the call to go through, she gritted her teeth in anticipation of hearing her father’s voice. As it was seven-forty-five in L.A., she knew it would be ten-forty-five in New York, just the time Juan usually raised himself from the dead.
“Well, well, my uppity daughter,” Juan scoffed after the initial hellos. “What’s the occasion I get a call from the snooty doctor-to-be?”
Jennifer ignored the provocation. “It’s about Granny,” she said simply. She was insistent that she wasn’t going to be baited into expanding the conversation beyond the issue at hand.
“What about Granny?”
“Where is she?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Just tell me where she is.”
“She’s in India. She finally had her hip repaired. You know how hardheaded she is. I’ve been asking her to do it for a couple of years since it was really getting in the way of her work.”
Jennifer bit her tongue about the comment concerning work, knowing her father’s history. “Have you heard from the doctor or the hospital or anything?”
“No. Why should I?”
“They have your telephone number, I assume.”
“Certainly.”
“How come you didn’t go with her?” It pained Jennifer to think of her grandmother going all the way to India by herself and facing major surgery when the most distant travel she’d ever done was come to California to visit Jennifer.
“I couldn’t go with my back the way it is and everything.”
“How was this surgery set up?” Jennifer questioned. She wanted to get off the phone. The fact that no one had called Juan was definitely encouraging.
“By a company in Chicago called Foreign Medical Solutions.”
“Do you have the number handy?”
“Yeah, just a sec.” Jennifer could hear the receiver drop onto the tiny side table. She could picture it by the entrance door in the part of the apartment that was supposed to be used for a dining table but which contained Juan’s bed. A minute later Juan came back and rattled off the Chicago number. As soon as Jennifer had it, she hung up. She didn’t feel like hypocritical small talk or even saying good-bye. With the number in hand she dialed Foreign Medical Solutions, and after telling an operator who she was and what she was calling for, she was switched to an individual named Michelle, whose title was case manager. The woman had an impressively deep, resonant voice with a slight southern accent. After Jennifer repeated her story, Michelle asked her to hold the line. For a few moments Jennifer could hear the unmistakable sound of a computer keyboard in use as Michelle pulled up Maria Hernandez’s file.
“What is it you were hoping to learn?” Michelle asked, coming back on the line. “As a medical student, you’re probably aware that HIPAA rules limit what we can give out, even if you are who you say you are.”
“First I wanted to make sure she’s okay.”
“She’s doing very well. She had her surgery, which went smoothly. She spent less than an hour in the PACU, and then was moved to her room. It’s indicated she’s already started fluids by mouth. That’s the latest entry.”
“Was that recently?”
“It was, indeed. Just a little more than an hour ago.”
“That’s good news,” Jennifer said. She was even more relieved than when Juan said he’d heard nothing. “Do most of your patients from the Queen Victoria Hospital do well?”
“They do. It is a popular hospital. We’ve even had one patient insist on going back to the Queen Victoria for his second knee.”
“A testimonial is always good,” Jennifer said. “Can I call the hospital and try to talk with my grandmother?”
“Certainly,” Michelle said, and rattled off the number.
“What time is it now in New Delhi?” Jennifer asked.
“Let’s see.” There was a pause. “I often get this mixed up. It’s nine-fifty-five a.m. here so I believe it is nine-twenty-five p.m. in New Delhi. They are ten and a half hours ahead of us here in Chicago.”
“Would it be an okay time to call?”
“I really couldn’t say,” Michelle responded.
Jennifer thanked the woman. For a moment she thought about trying her grandmother’s cell phone but then nixed the idea. In contrast to Jennifer’s AT&T phone, she didn’t think her grandmother’s Verizon would work in India. She called the Queen Victoria Hospital. As the call went through in literally seconds, Jennifer couldn’t help being impressed, especially since she had no idea how cell phones, or any phone for that matter, worked. A moment later she found herself conversing in English halfway around the world with a woman with a pleasantly melodic and distinctive Indian accent. It was somewhat similar in Jennifer’s ear to an English accent but more musical.
“I can’t believe I’m talking to someone in India,” Jennifer effused.
“You are welcome,” the hospital operator said somewhat inappropriately. “But you probably talk to India more than you realize, with our many call centers.”
Jennifer gave her grandmother’s name and asked if she could be connected to her room.
“I’m very sorry,” the operator answered, “but we are not able to forward calls after eight in the evening. If you had the extension, you could call direct.”
“Can you give me the extension?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed, for obvious reasons. Otherwise, I would connect you.”
“I understand,” Jennifer said, but she still felt there hadn’t been any harm in asking. “Can you tell me how she is doing?”
“Oh, yes, of course. We have a list right here. What is the surname again?”
Jennifer repeated “Hernandez.”
“Here she is,” the operator said. “She’s doing very well and already taking nourishment and has been mobilized. The doctors say they are very pleased.”