DECEMBER FOURTEENTH
NUMBER OF CASES: 4,323
NUMBER OF DEATHS: 19
Madison and Jack hovered over Isabella’s bed like two nervous medical students awaiting the results of their first anatomy exam. A few minutes earlier, Jack had checked on Tess. Her condition was still critical. He had spoken to Mike and they had agreed to meet for lunch. For good reason, Jack was expecting another difficult conversation.
“Has there been any improvement in her neurologic status?” Madison asked Dr. Josh Marcos, who had been at her bedside for the past eight hours. Sporting a three-day crop of bristly whiskers, Marcos’s eyes were colored crimson from sleep deprivation.
“None,” he answered. “In fact, she’s probably a little worse.”
“Maybe it’s still too early to see any improvement,” she suggested. She then looked at Jack, and in a voice struggling to cling to any shred of optimism, asked, “What do you think?”
“It’s difficult to say. Neurologic injuries can have a slow recovery process. Even if the factor that’s causing GNS has been completely removed with the tumor, it’s still hard to know when we might see signs of improvement. We also have to consider that whatever neurologic damage has occurred…well, it might be permanent.”
“So, what do we do from here?” she asked.
“Nothing, I’m afraid,” Jack answered. “All we can do is support her vital functions, closely monitor her neurologic status and…”
Just at that moment the door opened. When Jack saw it was Sinclair, he did his best to force a cordial smile.
“How’s your patient doing?” he inquired, making his way over to the bed.
“She’s about the same.” Madison answered.
“Really? I heard she’s worse. I understand her inhibin level’s zero. If my memory serves me correctly, you predicted we’d see signs of recovery by this time.”
“It hasn’t even been two days yet, Hollis. It’s still too early to dismiss the possibility she’ll recover.”
Sinclair rolled his eyes, moved up to the bed and then reached down and ever so slightly elevated Isabella’s chin.
“I see she still has the rash. What about fever?”
“She’s still has a fever,” Madison answered.
“Boy, it looks like you got that tumor out just in the nick of time,” Hollis said, with a sardonic smirk as he shook his head and started toward the door.