The fury that he’d suppressed during the harrowing interview with Ballantine engulfed him. His eyes searched for some object on which he could vent his anger. He grabbed up a bud vase Cassi had given him when they were engaged and smashed it on the floor. Looking at the shattered pieces, he felt a little better. He went over to his desk, pulled out the second drawer, and grabbed a bottle of Percodan, spilling several of the tablets onto his desk. He took one, putting the rest back, then went into the washroom for a glass of water.
Returning to his desk, he put away the pill container and closed the drawer. He began to feel more in control, but he still could not get over Cassi’s treachery. Didn’t she understand that all he really cared about was his surgery? How could she be so cruel as to try to jeopardize his career? First going to his mother, the one person who really had the power to upset him, then George, and now the head of his department. He would not tolerate this. He had loved her so much when they were first married. She had been so sweet, so delicate, so devoted. Why was she trying to destroy him? He would not let her. He would…
Suddenly Thomas wondered if Ballantine was glad about all this. For some time he had the nagging feeling that something strange was going on with Ballantine and Sherman. Maybe it was all an elaborate play to undermine him.
Thomas again felt a thrill of fear. He had to do something… but what?
Slowly at first, and then more rapidly, ideas began to form. All at once he knew what he could do. He knew what he had to do.
Still troubled by his meeting with Thomas, Ballantine decided to drop down to OR to see if he could find George. Sherman may have lacked Thomas’s genius, but he was a consistently excellent surgeon and an evenhanded and unflappable administrator. The house staff admired him, and Ballantine was increasingly considering backing George as chief when he himself stepped down. For a long time, the trustees had pushed to get Thomas to switch to full-time so he would be eligible for the post, but now Ballantine had doubts even if Kingsley would agree.
Unfortunately George was still in surgery. Ballantine was surprised and hoped there was no trouble. He knew George had had only one seven-thirty case that morning. The fact that he was still in the OR in the middle of the afternoon was not auspicious.
Ballantine decided to use the time to visit Cassi on Clarkson Two. Even if he wasn’t totally sanguine about her husband’s future, Ballantine wanted to offer what reassurance he could. Despite the years Dr. Ballantine had been on the staff of the Boston Memorial, he’d never once set foot on Clarkson Two, and when he pushed through the heavy fire door, he felt as if he’d entered another world.
In a lot of ways it did not seem like a hospital at all. It had more the feeling of a second-class hotel. As he passed the main lounge, he could hear someone plunking atonally on the piano, as well as some mindless television game show. There were none of the sounds that he traditionally associated with the hospital, like the hiss of a cycling respirator or the characteristic clink of IV bottles. Perhaps the thing that made him the most uncomfortable was that everyone was dressed in street clothes. Dr. Ballantine could not be sure who was a patient and who was on staff. He wanted to find Cassi but was afraid of approaching the wrong person.
The only place he could be sure of knowing who was who was the nurses’ station. Dr. Ballantine walked to the counter.
“Can I help you?” asked a tall, elegant black woman whose name tag said simply, Roxane.
“I’m looking for Dr. Cassidy,” said Dr. Ballantine self-consciously.
Before Roxane could respond, Cassi’s head appeared around the door to the chart room.
“Dr. Ballantine. What a surprise!” Cassi stood up.
Ballantine joined her, again admiring her fragile beauty. Thomas must be crazy to spend so many nights in the hospital, he mused.
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” asked Ballantine.
“Of course. Would you like to go to my office?”
“Here’s fine,” said Ballantine, indicating the empty room.
Cassi pushed some of the charts away. “I’ve been writing summary notes on my patients for the other doctors to use while I’m in for my eye surgery.”
Ballantine nodded. “The reason I stopped down was to tell you in person that I’ve already spoken with Thomas. We had a very good talk. I feel he’s been pushing it a bit, and he admitted a small reliance on Dexedrine to keep him awake, but he pretty well convinced me that he only took the pain-killers for his migraine headaches.”
Cassi didn’t reply. She was certain Thomas hadn’t had a migraine since he was in his teens.
“Well,” said Ballantine with forced joviality. “You get your eye taken care of and don’t worry anymore about your husband. He’s even offered to have his prescription roster audited.” He stood up and patted Cassi on the shoulder.
Cassi wanted desperately to share Dr. Ballantine’s optimism. But he had not seen Thomas’s pupils or his staggering gait. And the chief was not the recipient of his unpredictable moods.
“I hope you’re right,” said Cassi with a sigh.
“Of course I’m right,” said Dr. Ballantine, annoyed that his pep talk hadn’t worked. He started to leave.
“And you didn’t mention our conversation,” Cassi added, seeing Ballantine was becoming impatient.
“Of course not. Anyway, Thomas’s jealousy makes it obvious he adores you. And with good reason.” Ballantine smiled.
“Thanks for coming down,” said Cassi.
“Don’t mention it,” said Ballantine, waving. He headed down toward the fire door, glad to be leaving Clarkson Two. He had never understood why anybody would take up psychiatry.
Getting on the elevator, Ballantine shook his head. He hated getting mixed up with family problems. Here he had been trying to help both Kingsleys. He’d sought out Cassi in order to put her mind at ease. But she hadn’t seemed willing to listen. For the first time he began to question Cassi’s objectivity.
Getting off the elevator, Ballantine decided to see if George was out of the OR.
He found Sherman surrounded by house staff in the recovery room. When George caught the chief’s eye, he excused himself and followed Ballantine out into the hall.
“I had a disturbing conversation with Kingsley’s wife this morning,” Ballantine said, getting straight to the point. “I thought she had wanted to see me to apologize about the incident last night. But that wasn’t it. She was worried that Thomas might be abusing drugs.”
George opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated. The residents had just been describing Kingsley’s behavior in the OR that morning before George himself had taken over. If he told the chief that would mean real trouble for Kingsley. And it was always possible that Thomas had just drunk too much the night before, upset as he obviously was after the fight. George decided to keep his thoughts to himself for the time being.
“Did you believe Cassi?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. I spoke with Thomas, who had some very good answers, but even I have found his temper unusually erratic.” Ballantine sighed. “You always said you didn’t care about being chief of service, but even if Kingsley agrees to come full-time, he may not be right for the department when we are done reorganizing. He certainly opposes the new patients we’re scheduling on the teaching service.”
“Yes,” said George. “And I can’t see Thomas accepting the idea of free surgery for the mentally retarded in order to train new teams of vascular surgeons.”
“His point of view isn’t necessarily wrong. These new expensive procedures should be made available first to the patients with the best chances for long-term survival. But practically speaking, the residents rarely get such cases. And as far as the hospital favoring patients most valuable to society, who’s to judge? As you said, George, we’re just physicians, not God.”