of bilious green that long-dead patients and staff had
endured almost a hundred years before.
18
Mary Daheim
There was no one around to meet the Flynns and the
Joneses. A wooden sign with flaking gold lettering and
an arrow pointed to admitting, on their right. They
turned the corner and almost collided with a robot that
was sending off loud beeping signals.
“That’s new,” Judith remarked. “I wonder what it does.”
“My name is Robbie,” the robot said in a mechanical voice. One metal arm reached out as if to snatch
Renie’s big black handbag.
“Watch it, Robbie, or I’ll FedEx you to the scrap
heap,” Renie threatened.
“My name is Robbie,” the robot repeated. The steel
creature kept moving, giving and asking no quarter.
“I hope he’s not one of the surgeons,” Judith said.
“We should ask if he’s covered for malpractice,” Joe
said as they approached the admitting desk.
A nurse in traditional uniform and white cap sat next
to a nun in a modified habit that consisted of a navy
blue suit, white blouse, and navy and white veil and
coif. The Sisters of Good Cheer were relatively conservative in their attitude toward apparel. As long as
they wore habits, the nurses who worked for them
would wear uniforms. “May we help you?” the nurse
inquired with a strained smile.
“Let’s hope so,” Joe replied. “We’re checking our
wives in.” He gestured at Judith and Renie.
“Jones,” said Bill. “Serena. Rotator cuff surgery.”
He pointed to the carefully lettered yellow Post-it note
on Renie’s sweater. Overcautious as ever, Bill had
written, “Serena Jones, right shoulder, allergic to nuts,
peanuts, and morphine, inclined to complain.”
“Flynn,” said Joe. “Judith. Right-hip replacement.”
He cast a worried look at Judith’s side. Maybe, she
thought, he was wishing he’d stuck a note on her, too.
SUTURE SELF
19
Renie nudged Judith. “I guess we checked our
voices at the door.”
The nun looked at a computer screen. “They’re
right,” she said to the nurse. “Jones and Flynn, Drs.
Ming and Alfonso.”
“Whew,” Renie said facetiously. “I’m sure glad
we’re the right people.”
Bill poked her in the ribs. “Don’t say anything. Let
them do their jobs.”
Renie scowled at Bill. “I was only trying to lighten
the—”
Bill poked her again, and Renie shut up.
The nurse handed several forms to Joe and Bill.
“Have your wives fill these out over in the reception
area. We’ll call their names when the doctors are
ready.”
“What are these?” Renie asked, despite the glower
from Bill.
“Medical information,” the nurse responded. “Consent forms. Releases.”
“Release from what?” Renie inquired, resisting
Bill’s efforts to propel her away from the desk.
“Consent to the procedure,” the nurse said, looking
impatient. “Releasing the hospital from responsibility
in case you expire.”
“Expire?” Renie blanched. “As in . . . croak?”
“Let’s go,” Bill muttered, his jaw set.
Joe had already wheeled Judith into the waiting
area. “Did Renie say ‘croak’?” she asked her husband.
“It sounded like ‘croak,’ ” Joe answered in his
breeziest manner. “Of course, it might have been ‘joke’
or ‘Coke’ or ‘cloak.’ ”
Judith looked down at the forms that Joe had put in
her lap. “She said ‘croak.’ If I croak, it’s not their fault.
20
Mary Daheim
I wonder how Joaquin Somosa and Joan Fremont feel
about that? I mean, I wonder how their families feel?”
“Glum,” Joe replied. “Just fill the damned things out
and let’s get on with it.”
“Aren’t you and Bill being a bit callous?” Judith demanded.
“No,” Joe asserted. “Those were flukes. Didn’t the
newspaper hint that Joan Fremont had been doing
some drugs? She was an actress, Somosa was an athlete. I once worked in Vice. I know how that goes. It’s
all show biz, and a lot of those people get involved in
drugs, both legal and otherwise.”
Judith wasn’t reassured, but she stopped arguing.
Renie had also gone silent, laboriously trying to sign the
forms with her crippled right arm. The cousins had just
finished when they were joined by a tall, handsome,
middle-aged man and a wispy blonde woman about the
same age. The man looked vaguely familiar to Judith.
Bill, who had an excellent memory for faces, caught
her curious glance. “Bob Randall,” he said in a low
voice. “Former Sea Auk quarterback.”
“Ramblin’ Randall,” Joe murmured, with an admiring glance for the three-time all-pro. “I’ll be damned.
Maybe I’ll shake his—”
“Judith Flynn?” a plump young nurse called out.
“Here,” Judith responded. “I think.”
“We’re ready for you.” The nurse smiled, then nodded at Joe. “Is this Mr. Flynn? He can come along, if
he likes.”
“He does,” Judith said firmly.
Joe lingered. “Can I catch up with you in a minute?
I’d like to introduce myself to—”
“Joe!” Judith cried as the nurse began wheeling her
away. “I really need you!”
SUTURE SELF
21
Reluctantly, Joe trudged after his wife. Judith arrived at a large room with several curtained partitions.
It looked like a busy day at Good Cheer. At least four
other patients were already being prepared for surgery.
Directly across the way from Judith’s cubicle, an elderly woman was making her confession to an equally
elderly priest. Judith’s spirits plunged.
“I should have had Father Hoyle anoint me or something,” she murmured. “Is it too late?”
“You mean before that old duffer keels over?” Joe
responded with a nod in the priest’s direction. “I don’t
know. He could go at any minute.”
Judith scowled at Joe. “I’m serious. Go ask him to
come here when he’s done with that woman’s confession.”
The nurse began to take Judith’s vital signs. Another
nurse arrived to draw her blood. A third nurse showed
up with a hospital gown, a paper hat, and a pair of
socks with treads on the bottom. The first nurse asked
Judith if she had voided.
“Voided?” Judith echoed in alarm. “Voided what?”
“Have you gone to the bathroom recently?” the
nurse inquired with a gentle smile.
“Oh. Yes, just before I left home.”
Judith tried to relax, but it wasn’t easy with all the
poking and probing. She had just put on the gown, the
hat, and the socks when the anesthesiologist arrived.
“I’m Dr. Bunn,” said the young man, who looked
too young to be on his own without his mother.
“Here’s what we’re going to do . . .”
The curtains had been opened again after Judith
changed. She could see Joe strolling casually up and
down the floor, still waiting for the elderly woman to
finish her confession. Judith wondered if the old girl
22
Mary Daheim
was recounting every sin since childhood. Finally the
priest appeared to be giving absolution. Judith sighed
with relief.
At that moment, Bob Randall entered, supporting
the wispy woman with his famous right arm. His wife,