Pennsylvania's Finest, page 14
“Yea. The dog got a bit lethargic but made it through the morning. The lady didn’t care about her health as much as she did about the dog. She ended up missing the plane.”
“What did you recommend she do?” asked Drummer.
“I told her to drink a lot of water, enjoy a biscuit for lunch and have her husband brush her coat three times a day,” said Turner bursting out into laughter.
Phil enjoyed the story and as usual had his tales of medical wonders trumped by the vet student. It was obvious that Jim Turner loved the field of Veterinary Medicine. The goal of returning to central Pennsylvania and caring for the local cattle herds was his sole purpose. Phil knew that Turner would graduate high in his class and return home a hero to the tight knit farm community.
At 2 PM that Saturday Phil volunteered at Franklin Field for the Special Olympics. An awards dinner then commenced in the adjacent field house at 6 PM. The dinner and awards were over at 8 PM when Phil stepped out into the crisp October evening. The cool air felt good on his skin as he stepped towards the intersection outside of the stadium. Then, while standing at the corner of 34th and University Avenue, he became acutely aware of being at a true personal crossroad.
Looking to the left he saw University Avenue cross over the Schuylkill River and run into a brightly lit center city. He knew that Ranier and her troop were downtown at that moment getting ginned up at a local bar. Then he looked right towards West Philadelphia. Shining bright was the entrance to the PGH with the usual hustle and bustle out front. Past the PGH lay darkness and a quiet Penn campus leading to the Greycliff complex. Into Phil’s mind a picture of Jenna Ranier flashed as she held a vodka martini wearing a sultry outfit. She looked fantastic and was poised for the taking. Suddenly this vision was replaced by a chilling image of Dr. Richard Knight. Behind him stood Chairman Barnes, both men had a stern and reprehensible look upon their face. They stood staring at Phil with their arms held across their chest. Phil feared for his medical career at that moment realizing that either man could end his internship. Phil then slowly asked himself what would his father do in this situation, realizing that this approach never failed him in a decisive pinch. The answer became obvious as a city cab suddenly sped by Drummer blowing his horn with a frightful shrill, jolting him out of his dream world. He then shook his head in an understanding and positive way and while taking a deep breath, crossed University Avenue and turned right towards home.
Phil Drummer then walked towards the PGH. Near the entrance he decided to visit the Polk Lounge. The evening was still early and he knew nothing exciting was happening back home. Perhaps Rick Polk was showing a movie that evening. Upon entering the hospital he maneuvered towards a side stairwell that took him downstairs to Polk’s private lair. Halfway down the stairs he ran into a frantic and quick moving chief resident Larson, who was heading in the opposite direction.
“What’s up,” asked Phil.
“A lot,” said Larson stopping to speak. “Knight is on the warpath.”
“Why?” asked Drummer.
“Why?” said Larson raising his eyebrows, “Tell me you haven’t heard of his broker’s death?”
“What!” said a surprised Phil. “The guy we saw in the SICU on Friday?”
“Yep, he coded about two hours later without warning. Just flipped into a V-tach.” Larson just stared over Phil’s shoulder shaking his head. “Now Knight wants me staying in the hospital all weekend to keep an eye on his step down unit patients.”
“Oh my God,” said Phil. “Mr. Charles seemed like he was doing great.”
“Yea, that’s two in a row for Knight. I’m glad to be off the rotation next week. I pity the chief resident heading onto the CT rotation.”
Phil immediately thought of Rick Polk who was scheduled to start CT that Monday.
“Knight’s calling me every two hours from L.A.,” said Larson. “The guy is freaking out. I wasn’t even in the hospital at the time.” The two house officers then stared at each other, each shaking their head in disbelief. “Got to go,” said Larson who then bolted past Phil heading up the stairs.
“Wait, Pete!” yelled Drummer. “Was there an autopsy?”
“Yea,” cried out Dr. Larson as he continued his run up the stairs. “This morning, you missed it.”
Phil stood in his place for several seconds trying to digest the info he had just received. He only knew Mr. Charles for a brief period of time but felt a sorry for his demise. He thought of Knight and then Ranier, who was obviously unaware of the death at the time of their last phone call. Oblivious to his movements he continued walking down the stairwell on a path towards the Polk Lounge.
Rick Polk indeed was at home as The Good, The Bad and The Ugly premiered in the Lounge that evening. Phil Drummer walked into the movie about half way through the flick. No other residents were at the showing.
“Of course I knew of his death,” said Polk in response to Phil’s news. “I live here. I went to the code. What type of citizen do you think I am?”
“Was the guy alive when you got there?” asked Phil.
“No, dead as a doornail. Just like the last code.” said Polk.
The two interns then talked about the rotation changes that coming Monday. Rick Polk expressed no fear whatsoever of joining the CT team. Grandiose talk about pitching a perfect game for three months emanated from his mouth. Polk did not fear Knight, and Drummer voiced qualms for his fellow intern’s well being.
At approximately 10 PM the door opened to the Lounge. A defeated Frederick Riles entered. It was his first night of call in the hospital. Phil thought he saw a tear in his eye, which Riles wiped quickly away upon entering. Riles’ body language suggested a beat down that was occurring that evening. Even more concerning to Phil was the fact that Polk didn’t say anything to fellow intern Riles. It was as if he was aware of an ongoing tragedy.
“Hey Fred, how’s it going?” asked Phil.
“Don’t ask, I’m getting killed,” replied Frederick Riles. “I’ve gotten two hits already and haven’t eaten dinner yet. Now they want me in the O.R. for the next three hours.” Riles rummaged through a gym bag looking for something while he spoke.
“Sounds bad,” said Phil.
“The worst,” said Riles. “I hate the junior resident with me on this rotation. I’m not even going to mention his name.” His voice crackled as he spoke.
“Take a day at a time,” said Phil trying to console Riles and his ever-present black cloud of call.
“Don’t let him get to you,” said Polk in an attempt to initiate camaraderie with Riles.
“I won’t,” said a shaken Riles as he headed towards the door. “But I don’t know how I’m going to last three months.”
“I’ll leave the light on,” quipped Polk as the door slammed behind intern Riles. Phil and Polk then gave Fred Riles a fifty-fifty chance of making it through the remainder of the internship that year.
The premier of The Good, The Bad and The Ugly finished at about 10:30 PM that night. The two surgical interns watched some ESPN together and then called it a night at about 11:30. Phil then headed home walking slowly through the Penn campus. Some parties were still going on in the fraternity houses prompting Phil to recall his college days with a smile. He arrived home at about midnight and popped open a beer to watch the late night talk shows. Then, at one o’clock in the morning, he heard a thud at his door followed by a knock. Some loud conversation was going on in the hallway.
Upon opening the door Phil encountered Jennifer Ranier being propped up by her social worker sidekicks. She had a broad smile across her face but didn’t speak. The two social workers slowly pushed her into the doorway before Phil could speak. She threw her hands around Phil’s shoulders and neck.
“Here you go birthday girl,” said Stacey Rickett while brushing her hands back and forth signifying a completion of her task.
Phil mumbled out a hesitant and surprised “Hey” and noticed that Jim Turner was peering outside of his door with a smile on his face. He spontaneously reciprocated the embrace that Ranier had initiated.
“We missed you,” said Jenna Ranier with a slight slur in her speech. She ruffled her lips while looking at Phil charmingly. Phil was surprised at how tall she was while noticing some spiked heel shoes. She smelled of perfume, alcohol and cigarette smoke from the bar.
Laura Jones then spoke with a shorter tone in her voice. It was obvious that she was the designated driver and the least intoxicated of the three. “We honored her birthday request which was to see you.”
“Yea,” said Stacey Rickett. “We also saved her from about ten other creeps who wanted to take her home.” Rickett was also intoxicated and smiled at Phil while saying, “You are cute,” with a gleam in her eye.
Laura Jones then shook her head trying to bring the evening to a close. “Good night Jenna, see you in the morning. We will call you.” Then as quickly as they appeared, the escorts turned and disappeared down the hallway. Turner was still looking out his door with a smile on his face.
“Thanks girls,” said Jenna as she continued to hug Phil. She looked up at him with a smile as her right leg slowly kicked backwards closing the door on a disappointed Turner. She let out a short giggle and said, “Its my birthday, don’t I get a birthday kiss?”
Before Phil could speak she kissed him on the lips. It was a long passionate kiss well worthy of being the first. Phil thought it lasted two minutes and it may well have. Ranier felt good in his arms as she pressed her body closer to his. Their embrace was a perfect fit as her stacked figure entwined into his toned grip.
Ranier then stumbled backwards as her ankle turned one of the high heels. “Whoa,” was her response. She held her hand to her head as she shook it, appearing dizzy.
“How much have you had to drink?” asked Phil.
“Oh, just a few,” said Ranier as she stepped again forward towards Phil. Her body listed to the left and Phil had to catch her before she fell. At that moment he knew she was inebriated beyond the point of return. Upon recovering her balance she tried to kiss Phil again but missed and pecked him on the cheek. Her hands began to wander on his body.
“Wait a minute,” said Phil. “You need to sit down.”
“Sure,” said Ranier as she stumbled with assistance into the small living room. Phil navigated her towards the couch and she plopped down with a loud out of control thud.
“Let’s get you settled in,” said Phil realizing that he just had a near comatose female dropped off in his apartment. Ranier didn’t argue as she became supine on the couch. Phil placed a pillow under her head.
“I had to see you,” said Ranier settling into the settee. She smiled smugly and her head tilted backwards. Phil noticed how beautiful she was even in a drunken state. The combination of lipstick, ruffled hair and glazed eyes furnished a tawdry delight to his senses. However he was aware of her lack of awareness and common sense suppressed his instincts. A platonic tone overtook the conversation.
“Did you have a good time?” asked Phil.
“Yes, but I kept looking at the door to see you walk in.” As she tried to continue speaking her eyes began to close. “Where were you? We all missed you.” Her last slurred line was, “I only wanted to see you today.”
“I was at the Olympics,” replied Phil. “Then I stopped up to see Rick at the hospital.” As Phil continued to speak he looked back upon Jenna who was rapidly falling asleep as the alcohol toxin took control of her upper level cerebral functions. From that moment onward she was running on basic lower brainstem status. Her respiratory rate slowed as her liver began the long detoxification process that would carry her through the night.
Phil just shook his head in disbelief. There was a definite quality to Jennifer Ranier that attracted him. Her natural beauty was undeniable. She possessed an intangible zest for life that was intertwined with an unpretentious spirit. She was confident in appearance, yet at times displayed an insecure persona. Phil shed a moment of pity upon her thinking of Dr. Knight and her kinship with him. He wondered how two people could function in such a dysfunctional arrangement. His mind then calculated a twenty-two year gap between Knight and Ranier. Phil tried to comprehend being fifty-five years old but he could not. Fatigue began to muddle his thought process as he covered up Jennifer Ranier with a blanket. He carefully tucked her feet under the wrap after removing her shoes. Around her ankle was a gold bracelet with a heart upon it. Phil Drummer then headed alone into his bedroom to fall asleep.
At that very moment Dr. Richard Knight sat at 36,000 feet and 2000 miles away. Outrage prompted him to cut short the conference weekend and return home. The hastily booked red eye flight placed him in coach, sandwiched between two fellow passengers. An oversized woman similar in age sat next to him chewing gum aloud, occasionally laughing at an in flight movie while wearing a set of headphones. Cheap perfume permeated her airspace. To Knight’s left was a portly salesman returning from an unsuccessful trip to the coast. He was dead asleep and his head occasionally tilted to Knight’s shoulder only to be pushed back forcefully. Lack of personal hygiene filled his breath. Knight was out of his element with these commoners. They were unaware of his importance and this bothered him. Thoughts of Mr. Brett Charles rattled around in Knight’s head, as did an uncomfortable condolence call to his spouse. Arrival in Philadelphia was scheduled for 6 AM, which could not come soon enough in the now disorderly world of Dr. Richard Knight.
CHAPTER 14 Deal with the Devil
Dr. Richard Knight hated cell phones. As one of the leading cardiothoracic surgeons in the country he readily embraced technology. However he was a self imposed exile from the cellular phone communication world. Walking through the Philadelphia airport he frowned upon the hoards staring at their phones and mindlessly pushing buttons. What could they possibly be accomplishing at 6:30 A.M. that Sunday morning? How important could the information be? Why would anyone listen to the hype from a cellular provider that deems your latest and greatest phone obsolete every six months? It was nonsense and a colossal waste of time for him. Knight did own a cellular phone, which he kept in his car. The phone did offer him the convenience of answering a call when away from the home or hospital. He however never carried a cell phone on his person, and proudly never sent a text message in his life. He frequently cited himself as living proof of a human being capable of surviving without sending a text message every minute of his or her waking life.
So when Jennifer Ranier walked into her apartment that Sunday morning at 9 A.M. she had no idea that Dr. Knight was sitting in her bedroom, since he never sent a text to alert her. While approaching her phone machine to check messages she was startled to see Knight sitting with a smirk on his face, staring at her.
“Nice outfit,” said Knight. “Just getting in?”
“Richard, oh my God you scared the heck out of me,” said a startled Ranier. She quickly searched her mind for an excuse while waiting for a reply. Knight didn’t speak and she continued, “You’re home early, why?” She paused, “How was the flight?” Her voice was cracking and implied guilt as she ran her hand through a messy head of hair.
“We obviously have some problems,” said Knight shaking his head.
“I can explain,” said Ranier quickly.
Dr. Knight then raised his hand in a pacifying way to make her stop talking. He waited three seconds and continued, “Have you heard of the death of Mr. Charles two days ago?”
Jennifer Ranier was now mentally backpedaling. Phil Drummer told her of Mr. Charles death over breakfast that morning. Her mind was rapidly searching for another possible source of the info that she knew. Unable to recover in time she responded with a timid and unconvincing “No.”
“I didn’t think so,” said Knight staring at the remorseful woman in front of him. “Why should you bother to check on my patients while I’m away? Its not like I pay you enough to work on weekends.”
“Richard, please, it’s not what it appears to be,” said Ranier. The courteous tone of his voice frightened her.
“Well it appears to me that as soon as I left town my patient, who happened to be my stockbroker, dropped dead,” said Knight. “And my physician assistant didn’t even know about it. That’s problem number one.”
Ranier just continued to stare at Knight consciously aware that she was still wearing a tight miniskirt with fishnet stockings.
“Problem number two appears to be your need to tramp around town when I’m away,” said Knight.
“Now wait a minute,” said Ranier realizing that her goal wasn’t truly accomplished the night before. “I went out with Stacey and Laura last night for my birthday and that was it.”
“Did you sleep with Stacey and Laura last night?” asked a condescending Knight.
“I did stay at Stacey’s apartment last night,” replied Ranier quickly.
“Don’t lie to me,” said Knight shaking his head back and forth as he looked directly into her eyes. Ranier thought it best to remain quiet at that point.
Knight methodically lifted a bottle of water to his mouth taking a slow sip. He then continued, “The main problem is the fact that my patients are dying in the hospital. In one hour I will be meeting with Dr. Barnes and Mr. Rineman to address this problem.” Knight paused again, then stood up turning away from Ranier and looking out the window over Rittenhouse Square.
He continued in a lower tone, “My secondary problem is your obvious infidelity. You know my rules. I’ll assume this was your first offense.” Upon completing the sentence he looked upwards towards the sky in anticipation of a lame response.
Ranier spoke up, “There was no offense, I celebrated my birthday last night with some girlfriends and that was it.”
“Regardless,” said Knight. “On Monday morning you will report to my good friend Dr. Zalmo in the Gynecology department. I’ll have him check you out for any social issues that you may have acquired at the birthday party. If you are deemed clear in two weeks by Dr. Zalmo, I will be willing to continue this relationship letting the good times outweigh some missteps.”
