“What’re your initial impressions?” Garrison Majors asked.
Alex, Garrison, and Reynolds were back at the same table at Justine’s. Apparently it was touted to be one of the best dining facilities in town, second only to the Chickasaw Country Club, which, Reynolds explained, couldn’t accommodate a reservation on such short notice.
“I’m definitely intrigued with the situation.” An understatement, as it sounded too good to be true.
“In that case, I assume you’re okay with staying one more day?” Garrison said. “Reason is, I lined up a real estate agent to take you ’round to see a few homes.”
Alex glanced at his watch. “No problem. I just need to check with the airline, see if I can change my ticket.”
“I had Claude look into that already,” Reynolds said, referring to his university secretary, “Got y’all set up, assuming you’re willing to stay.”
Alex marveled at their efficiency. “Okay then. Looks like I’ll be here another day.”
Garrison smiled and raised his wine glass to toast. “To a wise decision.”
After the customary clink, Reynolds said, “Talked with Dean Summers after you left him. Man agreed to appoint you full professor but said your CV has to be reviewed by the promotions committee if he’s gonna give you tenure. That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll talk with a couple friends on the committee to make sure there’re no issues. Once y’all come here, I’ll submit your credentials to the residency review committee, have you appointed vice program director. Suspect with your academic background there won’t be any problems with that either. Lastly, had me a talk with Steve Saito, chair of Cell Biology. He’s more than happy to give you a clinical professor appointment in his shop where you can share a lab with one of his junior people.”
Alex tried to recall the proximity of Baptist Central to the main campus and the building that housed Cell Biology, which, if memory served, was a block further than Neurosurgery’s one-secretary, two-office suite in which Reynolds ran the residency and conducted university business. Keeping a separate—although redundant—office in a university building offered a layer of protection and a firewall to support the claim of a university-based residency.
“That’s wonderful.” Alex was very pleased. Things were working out better than anticipated.
Garrison added, “Let me take a moment to explain how coverage works. The clinic admits patients to two hospitals: Baptist Central and Baptist West. Residents cover Central but not West. That means when you’re on call, you’ll cover all hospitals—including Baptist West. That’s the bad news. The good news is, given the number of surgeons we have, you’ll pull call roughly every ten nights, depending on if someone’s on vacation. If, for any reason, you need to take a night off, you’re responsible for swapping with another partner and for notifying the exchange.” Referring to the after-hours answering service for the clinic. “Call schedule gets published a month ahead of time. Once it’s out, you’re responsible for any change. How does night call sound?”
“Not bad at all. I expected worse.” And he did too. After his stint covering every night call at Costal County, this seemed like nirvana.
Reynolds smiled and seemed about to say something when Alex continued. “I can begin revising my NIH grant when I get home. Who’s the Grants and Contracts person at Baptist?”
Reynolds shot Garrison a glance. He nodded for Reynolds to answer. “That won’t work. Baptist doesn’t accept federal funding of any sort, certainly not from NIH.”
Alex blinked. Had he heard correctly? “What? Why not?”
“That policy,” Reynolds said, “was established years back, before World War II. Baptist’s hospital system was originally started to serve church members and church members only. They refused to treat non-church members regularly. Even when some pretty pathetic cases showed up on their doorstep. Since then, their mission has expanded, but they still remain selective in who they treat. If they accept just one penny of federal money, they’d be required by law to take all comers, if you get my drift. ’Cause of this, they refuse any and all federal assistance.”
“Okay, so what if the grant was awarded to the university?”
“Might work, but we’d have to make damn sure no one from Baptist gets a dime. Might be difficult if you have to ally with someone from their system, but it should be workable.”
Alex sat back in his chair digesting the myriad details just discussed.
“In the morning,” Garrison said, “Betsy Henry, the wife of a general surgeon who died of lung cancer few years back, is gonna pick you up at nine. She’s blocked out the entire day to take you ’round to see places. She’s our go-to girl for relocating docs to the area. Told her all about y’all, so she’s anxious to meet you. Also, she’s licking her chops to get Miss Lisa involved in some Women’s Auxiliary projects.”