MANHATTAN – 7 JUNE
Mrs Esther Wolfowitz groaned as she pulled her knees up towards her stomach. Jesus, what a cramp. She put her hand to her clammy forehead. She was drenched with sweat. Sidney snored beside her. She needed to get to the toilet, fast. She sat up and swung her legs out of the bed. She groaned again as a searing cramp doubled her up. Jesus, this is bad. Dizzy, she just made it onto the toilet before she suffered a massive episode of diarrhoea. She wiped the sweat off her forehead. That was to be the first of four trips to the bathroom that night. Sidney snored through the whole lot. Christ, you wouldn’t want to be dying, she thought as she looked at his peaceful expression. She sipped some water from the glass on her bedside locker and eventually got back to sleep at 5 a.m.
‘Morning, honey, here’s your tea.’
Esther stirred as Sidney put a cup of tea and a plate with two slices of toast, down on her locker.
She groaned.
‘What’s wrong, honey? You’re normally awake by now.’
‘Jesus, Sidney, didn’t you hear me during the night?’
‘Can’t say I did, honey – what happened?’
‘I’ve got really bad diarrhoea, worst ever.’
‘Oh no, I’m sorry to hear that, dear,’ said Sidney, looking concerned.
Esther very slowly propped herself up on the pillows, sipped some tea and ate half a slice of toast. Thirty seconds later, she was scrambling out of bed and rushing for the bathroom.
*
‘Hello, Dr French’s surgery.’
‘Hello, it’s Sidney Wolfowitz here. I wonder if the doctor could come and see my wife – she’s ill.’
‘Oh dear, Mr Wolfowitz, what seems to be the problem?’
‘Well, she has really bad diarrhoea. She’s sweating and she’s just started vomiting. There’s no way she can get to the clinic.’
‘That’s no problem, Mr Wolfowitz. Dr French has a couple of house calls to make after the surgery. He’ll call by at about six o’clock.’
*
‘Ow, ow!’ Three hours later, Mrs Wolfowitz almost leaped off the bed when Dr French gently pressed her abdomen.
‘Oh dear, you certainly are very tender. We’ll have to get you sorted out. Do you think you could have eaten anything that might have caused this?’
‘She had beef burgers at our son’s barbeque at the weekend,’ offered Sidney.
‘That could well be the problem then,’ said Dr French. ‘I think you have food poisoning, Mrs Wolfowitz. You have it pretty severely, and we don’t want it becoming toxic, so I’m going to get you on to an antibiotic. That’ll sort you out in a couple of days. And I’m concerned that you’re dehydrated. It’s important that you take these.’ He handed Sidney a box of six sachets of electrolytes powder. ‘These will help replace the fluids and minerals you’re losing. Drink plenty of liquids, but best not to eat anything for the moment.’
Mrs Wolfowitz groaned. ‘That won’t be a problem, doctor.’
‘Here’s a few cephalosporin tablets to get you started. Take two straightaway and then two, three times a day. Mr Wolfowitz, can you get the prescription tomorrow?’
‘No problem, doctor,’ said Sidney. ‘Glad I had the chicken!’
*
THE NEXT DAY
David Wolfowitz answered the phone at his house in Connecticut. It was his neighbour.
‘Hey, David. How you doing?’
‘I’m good, Eleanor, thanks. And you?’
‘Not so good. Been really sick the last coupla days. Jim too. We’re a bit better now, but the doctor thinks we have food poisoning.’
‘Oh no!’
‘Yeah, he asked us did we have anything that mightn’t have been fully cooked, maybe a barbeque? We both had those kosher beef burgers at your house and I’m just wondering . . .’
‘Shit. I hope it’s not that. Me and Jacqui have been fine.’ Then David remembered that they’d both had the chicken. ‘Eleanor, thanks for the heads-up. I’ll ring around and see if anyone else is sick. I’m glad you’re starting to feel better. Say hi to Jim.’
Ten minutes and three phone calls around the neighbourhood later and a stunned David Wolfowitz needed no more confirmation. Everyone who had had the burgers at his barbeque was sick. One was about to go to hospital. A call to New York added to his distress. His mother had eaten the burgers and she was sick too.
*
‘Please ask him to come as quickly as possible,’ pleaded Sidney Wolfowitz, ‘she’s really bad.’
‘Don’t worry, Mr Wolfowitz, I’ll make sure that Dr French is there within thirty minutes,’ replied the receptionist, picking up the urgency in the old man’s voice.
Almost twenty hours after his last visit to the apartment on Jay Street, Dr Ian French found himself pressing on the same doorbell.
‘Thank God you’ve come, doctor,’ said Sidney Wolfowitz, as he opened the door.
Esther Wolfowitz’s condition had deteriorated considerably. She lay white faced on the bed and was barely able to acknowledge the doctor. Her forehead was wet with sweat. Her antibiotic tablets were on her bedside locker, beside a glass of water. Dr French swiftly checked her blood pressure and took her temperature. One hundred and three degrees.
‘She’s been on the toilet nearly non-stop, doctor. And she told me there’s blood coming out too,’ said her anguished husband.
‘Has she been taking her tablets?’
‘Yes, doc, I make sure of it. But she’s vomiting as well, so I don’t know if they’re staying down.’
‘Mrs Wolfowitz, we’re going to get you into hospital for a few days to get the antibiotic and some fluids into you intravenously.’
Mrs Wolfowitz nodded and groaned.
‘Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. It’s just that this food poisoning bug has gotten the upper hand.’ Dr French started writing a quick note to the emergency department on his headed notepaper. ‘Query food poisoning from beef? Severe diarrhoea, sweating. Blood in stools. Prescribed cephalosporin 100mg 3.D. Re-examined today. Temp. 103°. BP 100 over 60. Dehydrated. Regular vomiting. Query septicaemia. Dr I. French.’
He handed the note to Sidney. ‘I’m going to call for an ambulance. Make sure you give this note to the hospital staff when you get there.’
‘Sure, doc.’ Sidney stroked his wife’s hand. ‘You’ll be fine, honey. Quicker we get some fluids into you the better.’
Four minutes later Dr French had confirmation that an ambulance had been despatched from the Patrick J. Brock Memorial Hospital, about five minutes away on Broome Street.
‘Jeez, honey. At least you’re gonna be outta that hospital a lot quicker this time.’
Esther Wolfowitz closed her eyes tight and nodded. She would never forget the months she had slept on a mattress there, making sure her beloved son David survived his illness.