He supposed he should try to understand such things because handling money, when a doctor finally got to earn some after years of training, was something else they didn't teach in medical school. Since joining Dr. Townsend's practice a year and a half ago, Andrew had been startled at how much cash flowed monthly into his bank account. It was a new and not unpleasant experience. Although he had no intention of letting money dominate him, just the same... "Excuse me, Doctor.”
A woman's voice. Andrew turned his head. "I went to your office, Dr. Jordan. When you weren't there, I decided to try the hospital.”
Dammit! It was the same drug company saleswoman who had been in his office yesterday. She was wearing a raincoat, which was soaked. Her brownish hair hung dripping wet, and her glasses were steamed. Of all the gall-to barge in here! "You seem to be unaware," he said, "that this is a private lounge. Also I don't see salespeople-" She interrupted.”At the hospital. Yes, I know. But I thought this was important enough.”
With a series of quick movements she put down an attache case, removed her glasses to wipe them, and began taking off the raincoat. "It's miserable out. I got soaked crossing the parking lot.”
"What's important?" The saleswoman-he observed again that she was young, probably no more than twenty-four-tossed the raincoat onto a chair. She spoke slowly and carefully. ~Ammonia, Doctor. Yesterday you told me you had a hepatitis patient who was dying from ammonia intoxication. You said you wished-" "I know what I said.”
The saleswoman regarded him levelly with clear gray-green eyes. Andrew was aware of a strong personality. She wasn't what you'd call pretty, he thought, though she had a pleasing, high-cheekboned face; with her hair dried and combed she would probably look good. And with the raincoat Off, her figure wasn't bad. "No doubt you do, Doctor, and I'm sure your memory is better than your manners.”
As he started to say something, she stopped him with an impatient gesture.”What I didn't-couldn't-tell you yesterday is that my company, Felding-Roth, has been working for four years on a drug to reduce ammonia production by intestinal bacteria, a drug that would be useful in a crisis situation like your patient's. I knew about it, but not how far our research people had gone.”
"I'm glad to hear someone's trying," Andrew said, "but I still don't see-" "You will if you listen.” The saleswoman pushed back several strands of wet hair which had fallen forward on her face.”What they've developed-it's called Lotrcrmycin-has been used successfully on animals. Now it's ready for human testing. I was able to get some Lotromycin. I've brought it with me.”
Andrew rose from the armchair.”Do I understand you, Miss?“
He couldn't remember her name and, for the first time, felt uncomfortable. "I didn't expect you to remember.”
Again the impatience.”I'm Celia de Grey.”
"Are you suggesting, Miss de Grey, that I give my patient an unknown, experimental drug which has only been tried on animals?" "With any drug, there has to be one first human being to use it.”
"If you don't mind," Andrew said, "I prefer not to be the pioneering doctor.”
The saleswoman raised an eyebrow skeptically; her voice sharpened.”Not even if your patient is dying and there isn't anything else? How is your patient, Doctor? The one you told me about.”
"Worse than yesterday.”
He hesitated.”She's gone into a coma.”
"Then she is dying?" "Look," Andrew said, "I know you mean well, Miss de Grey, and I'm sorry about the way I spoke when you came in here. But the unfortunate fact is, it's too late. Too late to start experimental drugs and, even if I wanted to, do you have any idea of all the procedures, protocols, all the rest, we would have to go through?" "Yes," the saleswoman said; now her eyes were blazing, riveting Andrew, and it occurred to him he was beginning to like this forthright, spunky girl-woman. She continued, "Yes, I know exactly what procedures and protocols are needed. In fact, since I left you yesterday I've done little else but find out about them-that, and twist the arm of our director of research to let me have a supply of Lotromycin of which, so far, there's very little. But I got it-three hours ago at our labs downstate, in Camden, and I've driven here without stopping, through this lousy weather.”
Andrew began, "I'm grateful," but the saleswoman shook her head impatiently. "What's more, Dr. Jordan, all the necessary paperwork is taken care of. To use the drug, you would have to get permission from this hospital and the next of kin. But that's all.”
He could only stare at her.”I'll be damned!" "We're wasting time," Celia de Grey said. She had the attaché case open and was pulling out papers.”Please begin by reading this. It's a description of Lotromycin prepared for you by Felding-Rotb's research department. And this is a memorandum from our medical director-instructions on how the drug should be administered.”
Andrew took the two papers, which seemed to be the first of many. As he began reading, he was immediately absorbed.
Almost two hours had gone by. "With your patient in extremis, Andrew, what have we got to lose?" The voice on the telephone was Noah Townsend's. Andrew had located the chief of medicine at a private dinner party and had described the offer of the experimental drug Lotromycin. Townsend went on, "You say the husband has already given permission?" "Yes, in writing. I got the administrator at home. He came to the hospital and had the form typed up. It's signed and witnessed.”
Before the signing, Andrew had talked with John Rowe in the corridor outside his wife's room and the young husband reacted eagerly. So eagerly, in fact, that Andrew warned him not to build great hopes or expect too much. The signature on the form was wavery because of John Rowe's shaking band. But it was there, and legal. Now Andrew told Noah Townsend, "The administrator is satisfied that the other papers sent by Felding-Roth are in order. Apparently it makes it easier that the drug didn't cross a state line.”
"You'll be sure to record all those details on the patient's chart.”
"I already have.”
"So all you need is my permission?" "For the hospital. Yes.”
"I give it," Dr. Townsend said.”Not that I hold out much hope, Andrew. I think your patient's too far gone, but let's give it the old college try. Now, do you mind if I go back to a delicious roast pheasant?" As Andrew hung up the phone at the nurses' station from where he had been calling, he asked, "Is everything ready?" The head night nurse, an elderly R.N. who worked part time, had prepared a tray with a hypodermic. She opened a refrigerator and added a clear glass drug container which the Felding-Roth saleswoman had brought.”Yes, it is.”
"Then let's go.”
The same resident who had been with Mary Rowe this morning, Dr. Overton, was at her bedside when Andrew and the nurse arrived. John Rowe hovered in the background. Andrew explained Lotromycin to the resident, a burly Texan extrovert, who drawled, "You expectin' a damn miracle?" "No," Andrew answered curtly. He turned to Mary Rowe's husband.”I want to emphasize again, John, this is a long shot, a very long shot. It's simply that in the circumstances...”