As she lay in bed, waiting for her treatment to begin, Faith Byrne appeared as calm as could be expected. “That’s our girl,” encouraged Nurse McCorvey, inserting the IV line into her arm. “You’re not gonna feel a blessed thing.”
Since Faith had assumed the fourth slot—it had previously belonged to a certain Hannah Dietz, who welcomed the delay—they’d been through the procedure three times by now; it was starting to feel routine. In fact, standing off to the side, Logan was the lone representative of the Compound J team on hand. They’d decided that “witness duty” would revolve among the three of them.
“That’s right,” echoed Marion Winston, “easy as pie.” The patient care representative placed her hand lightly on the patient’s arm. “I wish I were as comfortable as you look in that bed.”
“Hey,” said Faith, through a tight smile, “feel free to change places. And I mean anytime.”
Though they’d had their first face-to-face meeting only the evening before, on Faith’s arrival at the ACF, the rapport between Winston and Byrne was obvious. Watching, even Logan had to agree that Winston had a special touch with patients in need of reassurance.
“How long will it be?” Faith strained to get a look at the overhead bottle bearing the Compound J.
“Just a minute now,” said McCorvey. “You want me to tell you when it starts?”
“Of course. It’s my life.”
“Then just hold on, dear. I’ll let you know.” McCorvey waited a few seconds and gingerly removed the clamp. “Now.”
The patient exhaled deeply and, staring up at the ceiling, lay perfectly still, working at trying to relax. Logan snuck a peek at his watch. Nine thirty-eight. At, say, ten of, he’d be able to think about leaving.
Two minutes went by. Then a third.
“Something’s not right,” spoke up Faith suddenly. “I feel strange.”
Instantly, Logan was at her bedside.
“What, Faith? What is it?”
“Stop the medicine! Please!”
“What is it? Tell me.” Logan looked over at McCorvey. Her face reflected his own intense concern.
“I feel chilled all over! I’m getting nauseous!”
Reflexively, Logan weighed the data before him, focusing on the worst-case scenario: She could be undergoing anaphylaxis—a severe toxic reaction, similar to that produced by a bee sting in someone with an extreme allergic sensitivity.
But, no, he discounted the possibility almost at once. The symptoms of anaphylactic shock hit immediately after administration; within seconds, the patient will start wheezing, then usually black out. Faith’s breathing was not labored, and her color was good.
“What’s her pressure?” he asked McCorvey.
She checked the monitor. “One twenty-five over eighty.”
“Heart rate?”
“Seventy-five.” Also normal.
The problem, he could only conclude, was nothing more than acute anxiety.
Logan nodded toward the crash cart. “Prepare a milligram intravenous of lorazepam.” A Valium analog.
He leaned in close to the patient and spoke soothingly. “Faith, I’m almost certain it’s nothing serious. We’re going to give you something to help you relax.”
“No! What I need is epinephrine!”
Under other circumstances, Logan might have laughed: talk about a little knowledge leading to big-time lunacy! Epinephrine is more commonly known as adrenaline; by speeding up the heart rate by forcing the muscle to contract spasmodically, it can lead to angina, especially in someone of Faith Byrne’s age.
“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” he reassured. “Let’s just see how you do over the next few minutes.”
“Doctor, the woman is telling you she’s in crisis!”
Startled, Logan looked across the bed at Winston. “Please, Ms. Winston, the situation is in hand.”
“I’m not sure it is! I would like you to call for backup!”
Goddamn it! What was it with this bitch?
“I assure you that isn’t necessary,” he replied calmly. “What Mrs. Byrne is describing is not life threatening.”
If he could just hold things together another a couple of minutes, he knew, matters would resolve themselves. It would become obvious there’d been no reason for concern.
“Listen,” he added, “I just think we have to be careful not to overreact. Nurse McCorvey …?”
He saw McCorvey glance Winston’s way before responding. “Yes, Doctor?”
Christ, was she going to be a problem too?
“You’ve been through a number of these treatments. Perhaps if you would reassure—”
“Never mind your reassurance, Doctor! What Faith needs is help!”
“Ms. Winston,” he said evenly, buying time, “we’ve been through this procedure several times already. There’ve been no adverse effects.”
Momentarily, this seemed to defuse the crisis. But with a sudden wail, Faith Byrne again commanded all eyes. “Oh, God, please, don’t let them kill me.”
Winston took her hand. “I promise you, that’s NOT going to happen. Dr. Logan, I must insist that—”
“No, it’s not,” he cut her off. By now he had to make a physical effort to maintain the surface calm he needed to do his job. “But if it’ll set your mind at ease …”
He picked up the phone and punched in the nurses’ station. “This is Dr. Logan in room three fourteen. I’d like some backup here, please, stat.”
As he hung up, he glanced at his watch; then, to be sure, waited another thirty seconds. “I just want to tell you, we’re already past the danger point. And, as you see, Mrs. Byrne has had no adverse reaction to this drug.”
He half expected an apology. Instead, Winston only squeezed Faith’s hand a little tighter. “See that. Nothing to worry about.”
Now that all concern had passed, Logan eyed the patient care rep with cool disdain. “Ms. Winston, you are not medical personnel. I would really appreciate it if you would stand back now.”
“That’s your response, Doctor, to what’s just happened here? I happen to be doing my job.”
“Yes? Well, you’re going to have to learn that the rest of us have jobs to do also. You’re going to have to learn it and respect it.”
“What is this about? What is this problem?”
And there, in the doorway, stood Sabrina.
“Dr. Como,” exclaimed Winston. “Thank God!”
Logan nodded Sabrina’s way. “I’m afraid we’ve had a bit of a misunderstanding. But I think it’s fair to say everything’s under control now.” He looked down at the patient. “Are you feeling better, Faith?”
“I don’t know. I guess so.”
“Nonetheless,” said the patient care rep, “I believe Mrs. Byrne would feel a lot more comfortable if Dr. Como took over now.”
Logan just stared at her. Go fuck yourself, lady! You can go straight to hell! “Is that true, Faith? Is that what you want?”
Byrne didn’t hesitate. “Yes. It is.”
“Well, then, that’s that.” Fuck you too! “Dr. Como,” he said, with a brittle smile, “I guess it’s all yours.”
“Yes,” she said, a portrait in studied neutrality. “Thank you, Dr. Logan.”
And Logan strode from the room, leaving the woman he loved to supervise what had, in fact, from the beginning, been an entirely routine procedure.