"WTF," said Tucker.
"I know." I'd never listened to a code from behind a curtain before. Doesn't get any worse than that.
"WT actual F," he bit out, hands fisted. He clearly wanted to punch someone.
"You want to run down to the pharmacy for gloves so we can try to get back in there?" I'd wait outside on the infinitesimal chance that Dr. Sharif pulled me back in, since I was the one doing acute care today.
The curtain shifted, and at least four learners left resus, including Rudy. Bad sign. Tucker crossed toward them before Rudy shook his head.
Tucker retreated.
"We're all persona non grata?" I reached for my phone. "Isabelle keeps saying how important we are. Maybe we should get Sarquet Industries to throw their weight around here." I pressed the phone icon, and my phone began to purr.
"Hope," said Tucker.
"You want Youssef? I feel like we should bring in the biggest guns from the get go, but I'm willing to use him as a plan B."
Tucker touched my wrist as Isabelle's liquid voice poured into my ear. "Hello, darling. How are you?"
"Hi Isabelle, not good. We've got a few issues. One of the patients can't pay, but this is a life and death situation."
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. They should speak to the billing department and work out an arrangement."
"Isabelle." I made a conscious effort to slow down and speak clearly, since Tucker has accused me of mumbling. I couldn't mess this up. "Did you hear me? This is life and death. As we speak."
"Yes, that's tragic. I sincerely hope they can work something out. Is everything else to your satisfaction?"
I pulled the phone away from my ear to stare at it, as if that would force her to give me a different answer. Tucker was already on his phone too, so he couldn't help. I retreated toward the doctors' lounge. "I can't provide good medical care by withholding it from people who don't have the money."
She sighed. "Oh my goodness, you have a beautiful heart. I'm sure so many people will be inspired by your attitude."
Huh? After a moment, I collected myself enough to say, "We don't need an inspiring attitude. This patient needs money for medical care."
"I find it refreshing. I really do. So … youthful."
I exhaled on a count of four and tried again. "Isabelle, I know that Sarquet Industries has considerable financial resources. If this family can't cover the hospital bill, is it possible that your company might do it? It would be excellent publicity."
"Darling, that's so thoughtful of you. You think so highly of Sarquet Industries. We appreciate you thinking of us, we really do."
I shook my phone instead of screaming. Tucker didn't even look up from his own phone, and I made a superhuman effort to keep it profesh. "Isabelle, is there any chance Sarquet Industries will pay for this medical care and save someone's life?"
"Of course I can ask, but I must warn you not to get your hopes up. After all, it's a slippery slope. There are so many people in need. We couldn't possibly look after all of them."
My throat tightened. "If Tucker and I left, you'd have more money for charity work."
"Dr. Sze!" For the first time, she sounded genuinely alarmed. "Please don't think that way. Your travel and accommodations are not part of—" She bit off her words.
"Part of what?"
"They come from a different budget. At any rate, both of you hardly cost anything. We have connections in the travel industry, and tourist numbers have decreased since 2011. It's our pleasure and our honour to welcome you."
"Isabelle, I can't sit here as some sort of mascot. I want to make real change, or I might as well go home."
"No, please don't, Dr. Sze! I will discuss this. Send me the patient's billing details, with his or her permission, and I'll see if I can make some sort of exception, this time and this time only. Is that clear?"
"Yes. Thank you, Isabelle."
"You're welcome, Dr. Sze." She hung up.
My heart galloped as fast as the little boy's. I'd gotten what I wanted, but why? How?
I rolled my shoulders back and turned toward resus. The little girl rushed up to me, her dark hair swinging and her small, brown face alight. "Can you come back and help my brother?"
"Hi, sweetie. I would love to." I glanced up past her at the grandmother, who'd followed quietly in her black robes. "We need gloves and, uh, the chief of the emergency department, Dr. Sharif, has taken over his care right now. What's your brother's name?"
"Hadi."
"That's a great name," said Tucker, joining us and smiling down at her. "A strong name."
"You think so?" said the girl.
"Absolutely," said Tucker. "I wish I had a name like that. My real first name is John. In English, it's also slang for a toilet."
The little girl covered her mouth. The grandmother looked like she was trying not to laugh at their comical expressions. I willed Tucker not to tell them that it's also slang for the guys who hire prostitutes.
"So many people are named John. It's boring. So, starting around when I was your age, I told my friends, 'I'm Tucker.' Do you think you could call me that?"
The girl glanced at me, then back at Tucker. "But you're a doctor?"
"Sure, you can call me Dr. Tucker if you want. What's your name?"
"Amal," she said.
"Oh, like the lawyer who married George Clooney!" I exclaimed.
Tucker, Amal, and even the grandmother blinked at me.
"Sorry, maybe George Clooney's not popular in Egypt," I said.
"We're from Yemen, but we know about Amal Clooney. She's the barrister!" said the girl.
"Yes, she argued on behalf of the three Al-Jazeera journalists, including the Canadian, Mohamed Fahmy," said Tucker, offering her a high five.
Amal smacked his hand enthusiastically while I secretly wished I could Google that. How embarrassing when a kid knows more about world politics than you do.
"You speak very good English," said Tucker, which is a phrase I heard too often from white people who assumed it was my second language.
"My big brother taught me. We have to make money," Amal informed Tucker gravely. "My brothers can go out and work, but not me."
"Nowadays, women work too," I said.
Amal shook her head. "Not us."
"We consider it work if you cook and clean and raise children too." I included the grandmother in my smile, and I thought I saw her eyes crinkle through the window of the niqab.
"But we need money for Hadi," said Amal.
"I agree. I'm asking our friends if they'll donate money from Canada for him," said Tucker, waving his phone.
"Are there rules about crowdfunding for patients?" I whispered.
He shrugged.
Great.
"Oh, Dr. Tucker, you think they might?" Amal jumped up and all but clapped her little hands.
"They might. We'll try."
Amal began explaining it to her grandmother, interrupting herself to pepper Tucker with questions.
When she simmered down, I said, "Amal, I have some questions for your parents. There may be a company that can help pay for Hadi's treatment, but I need their permission to send them your brother's bill. Could you bring me to them?"
Amal clapped in excitement and translated for her grandmother before taking my hand with her cool, little fingers. "Yes. Let's go. We need to help my brother. Help him against the scorpion."