HERB FINISHED ICU SIGN-OUT rounds early on Monday, picked up Martin at school, ran soccer practice at Dolores Park, then circled back to the hospital. When he arrived at his office, there was an urgent message posted on the door from a name he didn’t recognize, an Elliot Reed from the local blood bank. It was almost six o’clock. He dialed the number anyway.
A gravelly voice answered, “Elliot Reed.”
“This is Herb Wu from City Hospital returning your call.”
“Thanks for getting back to me so quickly. I need to locate the doctor of a patient named Anna Polchevek. Would that be you?”
Herb’s heart sank. Sister Anna was a nun in her mid-sixties, a heavy smoker with chronic bronchitis whom Herb had been seeing in lung clinic for the last ten years. She had a ruddy complexion, wore an Isadora Duncan scarf over her habit, and made airy gestures while speaking. She mixed quaint phrases such as “Dear me” or “My goodness” with four letter words for various bodily functions. At her appointments, Sister Anna always inquired about his family.
“Yes,” Herb replied, his mouth dry as he recalled an episode of pneumonia she had a year ago. She was severely anemic at the time, and he had ordered a blood transfusion for her.
“Someone from the CDC is tracking GRID cases. He asked me to check if any of the names and birth dates on their list of cases match any of our blood donors.”
Reed paused.
What’s he waiting for, Herb fumed. Am I supposed to connect the dots so he won’t have to say anything else?
“There was one match,” Reed said evenly. “Two units of packed red cells from that donor were given to your patient Polchevek last January, apparently before the donor got sick.”
Herb expected to hear more. Then he understood Reed was only remaining on the line to verify Herb had received the information.
“So what am I supposed to tell her?”
“You’ll have to talk to the CDC and find out what they recommend.”
“Shit!” hissed Herb.
“Sorry, I don’t know anything about GRID. Obviously, this can’t be good, but I can’t advise you on what to tell her. Try the CDC.”
“Thanks,” Herb said icily and hung up the phone.
He paced inside his office until he was calm enough to call the convent. When Sister Anna came to the phone, he apologized for bothering her and asked if she would come to clinic tomorrow. His excuse was to explain the results of her recent x-rays. She agreed and had no questions.