Foreign Body

Chapter 13

October 17, 2007

Wednesday, 11:42 a.m.

New Delhi, India

Jennifer felt totally frustrated. Despite how exhausted she was, even to the point of being slightly nauseated, she could not fall asleep. She’d drawn the heavy lined draperies, so the room was dark enough. The problem was that she was overtired and excited at the same time. The idea that Laurie might come was almost too good to be true and had her mind buzzing. Finally she thought, Screw it, and climbed from beneath the covers.

Dressed in only her panties, which was the way she’d gotten into bed, she went to the window and reopened the draperies, flooding the room with urban India’s hazy sunshine. Absently, she wondered how much hotter it would have been outside had all the pollution not blocked out a significant portion of the sun’s rays.

Looking down, Jennifer checked out the swimming pool. There were quite a few people enjoying it, although it was far from being crowded. It was a large pool. All at once Jennifer regretted not having brought a suit. It had never even crossed her mind when she’d packed for the trip, although now, looking down at the impressive expanse of blue water, it should have. After all, she knew she was going to a fancy hotel in a hot country. Jennifer shrugged. The idea they might have simple suits for sale occurred to her, but then she shook her head. As fancy as the hotel was, if they were to have suits for sale, they’d undoubtedly be designer and very expensive. It was unfortunate, because Jennifer thought some exercise might be just what the doctor ordered as far as helping her jet lag.

Thinking of exercise reminded Jennifer of the hotel’s gym. It occurred to her to put on jogging clothes, which she did bring, and ride a stationary bike and lift some weights. She was about to follow her own advice when she glanced at the time. It was closing in on noon, which gave her another idea: lunch. Despite the lingering mild jet-lag-induced nausea, she thought it best to try to normalize her diurnal eating pattern as a way of helping to deal with the completely topsy-turvy sleep situation.

Having no interest in impressing anyone that morning, least all of the Queen Victoria people, Jennifer had worn a simple polo shirt over fitted jeans to the hospital, and after her nap attempt, she pulled on the same clothes. As she did so, she had an idea to see if Mrs. Benfatti might be willing to have lunch with her. Of course there was always the chance the woman might be in deep mourning and very depressed and not wish to be seen in public. At the same time, such a possibility was an indication of the appropriateness of asking her. As a medical student, Jennifer had witnessed all too often how death and sickness could actually isolate people in our society just when they most needed support.

Jennifer picked up the phone before she lost her nerve. She had the operator connect her to Mrs. Benfatti’s room, wherever it was in the hotel. Jennifer briefly held the receiver away from her ear for a moment while it was ringing to see if Mrs. Benfatti’s room was close by. She heard nothing.

Just when Jennifer was about to hang up, the connection went through. A woman whose voice was rough and slow answered. Jennifer guessed she had been crying.

“Mrs. Benfatti?” Jennifer questioned.

“Yes,” Mrs. Benfatti answered warily.

Jennifer launched into a rapid description of who she was and why she was in India. She thought she heard Mrs. Benfatti draw in a breath when Jennifer explained that her grandmother had died in similar circumstances as her husband only the night before.

“I am so sorry about your husband,” Jennifer continued. “Given my grandmother’s death only the night before, I can truly sympathize with you.”

“I’m equally sorry for your loss. It is such a tragedy, especially being so far from home.”

“Why I was calling in particular,” Jennifer said, “is the hope that you might feel like having lunch with me.”

Mrs. Benfatti didn’t respond immediately. Jennifer waited patiently, fully understanding that the woman was probably engaged in an internal argument with herself. Jennifer imagined that she probably looked a wreck from crying and being depressed, which was a big argument for her to stay in her room. At the same time, she’d be intrigued by the coincidence and would jump at the chance to talk with someone who was in the same awful situation.

“I need to get dressed,” Mrs. Benfatti said finally, “and to do something with my face. I checked myself out a little while ago, and as the expression goes, I look like death warmed over.”

“Take your time,” Jennifer said. She liked this woman already, especially if she was strong enough to mock herself at a very difficult time. “There’s no rush. I can wait for you here or in one of the restaurants, say the main one just off the lobby, or would you prefer Chinese?”

“The generic restaurant is fine. I’m not very hungry. I’ll be there in half an hour, and I’ll be wearing a violet blouse.”

“I have on a white polo and jeans.”

“I’ll see you there, and by the way, my name is Lucinda.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you there, Lucinda.”

Jennifer slowly hung up the phone. She didn’t know why, but she had a good feeling about Lucinda and was suddenly looking forward to lunch. Somehow, the nausea had mysteriously disappeared.

Having taken a Seat in the multileveled restaurant that had a clear view of the hostess table, Jennifer saw Mrs. Benfatti the moment she entered from the lobby — a least, she was quite confident it was Mrs. Benfatti. The woman was wearing a carefully pressed violet top over a darker purple skirt. She was a large woman with an ample frame. Her mousy-colored hair was medium-length and tightly permed. If pressed, Jennifer would have guessed mid-fifties or thereabouts.

Jennifer watched as she stopped to speak with the maître d’. When the maître d’ motioned for Mrs. Benfatti to follow and turned to head in Jennifer’s direction, Jennifer waved and Mrs. Benfatti waved back. As they approached, Jennifer continued to watch the woman. She was impressed by the way Mrs. Benfatti was walking with her head held high. It wasn’t until the woman got close and Jennifer could see her bloodshot eyes that it was at all apparent she’d just lost her life partner.

Jennifer rose and stuck out her hand. “Mrs. Benfatti,” she said. “So nice to meet you, though I’m sorry about the circumstances. Thank you for being willing to join me for lunch.”

Mrs. Benfatti didn’t speak right away. She let the maître d’ pull out her chair and then push it in once she was seated.

“Sorry,” she said when the maître d’ had left the table. “I’m afraid I have to struggle to keep myself under control. It’s all been so sudden. Yesterday when he came out of the anesthesia so easily and then had such a good day, I thought for sure we were out of the woods, and then this had to happen.”

“I understand, Mrs. Benfatti,” Jennifer started to say.

“Please. It’s Lucinda.” The woman dabbed at the corner of her eyes before sitting up straighter, visibly trying to regain and maintain control.

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Lucinda!” Jennifer said. Taking relative command of the lunch, Jennifer suggested they order their food to get it out of the way. Once they had that accomplished, Jennifer began talking about herself, how she was about to graduate from medical school, about losing her mother, and having been raised by her grandmother. When Jennifer paused as the food came, she was pleased that Lucinda asked a question. She asked about what had happened to Jennifer’s father, since Jennifer had not mentioned him.

“I didn’t?” Jennifer said with a humorously exaggerated questioning expression. “I’m shocked. Well, maybe I’m not shocked. That’s too strong. Probably the reason I didn’t mention him is because we never do, neither my two older brothers nor I. He doesn’t deserve it.”

In spite of herself, Lucinda chuckled, gently covering the lower part of her face with her hand. “I know the type. We have one of those in our family, too.”

To Jennifer’s delight, Lucinda picked up from there, and as they ate their respective lunches, Lucinda talked first about the disowned uncle who’d been sent to prison for a time. Next she talked about her two sons. One was an oceanographer at Woods Hole, Massachusetts, with one child, and the other a herpetologist at the Museum of Natural History in New York City, with three children.

“And your late husband?” Jennifer questioned with some hesitancy. She didn’t know what Lucinda’s reaction would be, but Jennifer was interested in eventually talking about the deaths of their relatives. She wanted to find out how far the similarities went.

“He had a pet store for many years.”

“Then I can see where the biologists came from.”

“It’s true. The boys loved the store and loved working with the animals, fish and all.”

“Why did you come to India for his surgery?” Jennifer asked, holding her breath. If Lucinda was capable of fielding such a question about a decision that had it been different, her husband might still be alive, Jennifer was confident there would be no holds barred as far as other questions were concerned.

“It’s simple: We didn’t think we could afford a knee transplant stateside.”

“I think it was the same with my grandmother,” Jennifer said. She was pleased. Although there was a slight catch in Lucinda’s voice, there were no tears. “Tell me,” Jennifer continued, “how have you found the Queen Victoria Hospital? Have they been easy to deal with? Are they professional? I mean, the hospital itself looks fantastic, which you can’t say about the neighborhood.”

Lucinda offered another one of her soft chuckles, which Jennifer was beginning to think was one of her idiosyncrasies, particularly the way she tried to hide the smile with her hand. “Isn’t all that trash just terrible? The hospital staff, including the doctors, act as if they just don’t see it, especially the child beggars. Some of them are demonstrably ill.”

“I’m equally mystified. But how have you been treated by the staff?”

“Excellent, at least at first.”

“How do you mean?”

“When we first got here, we were treated extremely well. Just look at this hotel.” Lucinda gestured around the restaurant. “I’ve never stayed in a hotel this nice. It was the same at the hospital. In fact, the service at the hospital reminded us of a hotel. Herbert specifically said so.”

Mentioning her husband so casually made Lucinda pause for a moment. She cleared her throat. Jennifer let her take a moment. “But it was a bit different this morning.”

“Oh?” Jennifer questioned. “How was it different?”

“They are frustrated with me,” Lucinda said. “Everything was fine until they insisted I make a decision whether to cremate or embalm. They said I had to do it right away. When I said I couldn’t since my husband refused to discuss it out of superstition, they tried to force me. When I told them my two boys were coming and that they would decide, the hospital representative said they could not wait for someone to come all the way from America. They needed to know today. I could tell they were truly upset.”

Now it was Jennifer’s turn to chuckle. “I’m in the same circumstance,” she said, “and they are irritated at me for the same reason.”

“That’s a coincidence.”

“I’m beginning to wonder about that,” Jennifer said. “Where is your husband’s body?”

“It’s in a cooler someplace. I’m not really certain.”

“It’s probably in one of two walk-in refrigerators in the basement near the staff cafeteria. That’s where my granny is while we wait.”

“Why are you waiting?”

“A very good friend of mind is coming. At least, I hope she’s coming. She’s a forensic pathologist who works as a medical examiner. She’s going to help me and look at my granny. I’m thinking that my grandmother might need an autopsy, and the more they push me, the more I think she does. You see, my granny was not at risk for a heart attack. I’m quite confident in that.”

“We didn’t think Herbert was, either. His cardiologist examined him a little over a month before we came. He said he was fine and had a terrific heart and low cholesterol.”

“Why did your husband have a cardiologist?”

“Three years ago he and I took a trip to Africa to see the animals. Both of us had to take a bunch of shots and also an antimalaria medication called mefloquine. Unfortunately, he experienced a side effect where his heart beat irregularly, but it went away by itself.”

“So your husband had a normal heart for all intents and purposes,” Jennifer said. “Well, it was the same with my granny. She had remembered being told that she had had a heart murmur when she was a child, and had always thought there was something wrong with her. I had her seen at the UCLA Med Center by a top cardiologist, and he figured out that she’d apparently had what they call a patent ductus, which embryos need but are supposed to close. Granny’s stayed open but then mostly closed later. She also had some irregularity like your husband, but that was determined to have been caused by a cold remedy and went away. Her heart was perfectly normal, and for her age quite remarkable. With your husband and my granny having cardiac histories like that, it’s enough to make you paranoid.”

“Do you think your friend may be willing to take a look at my Herbert?”

While the waiter took their coffee order and cleared the dishes, the women leaned back and didn’t speak, both rehashing the conversation. When the waiter left, both leaned forward again. Jennifer spoke. “I can certainly ask her if she’d take a look at your husband. She’s a terrific person, and I think a famous medical examiner, both she and her husband. They work together in New York.” She paused. “When did you find out about your husband?”

“That was the most bizarre thing,” Lucinda said. “I had gotten a call, which had awakened me, from a family friend in New York, who’d wanted to convey his condolences about Herbert. The trouble was, at that point I’d not heard anything. I thought Herbert was just fine, like I’d left him some three hours earlier.” Lucinda stopped talking, and her lips quivered as she fought back tears. Finally, she sighed audibly and dried the corners of her eyes. She looked at Jennifer, tried to smile, and apologized.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Jennifer assured her. In truth, Jennifer was feeling a tad guilty, pushing Lucinda as much as she was. Yet the similarities between the two cases seemed to grow. “Are you alright?” Jennifer asked. Without really thinking about what she was doing, Jennifer reached out and gripped Lucinda’s wrist as a spontaneous gesture of support. The move surprised even Jennifer; she hardly knew the woman, and here she was touching her. “Maybe we should talk about something else,” Jennifer suggested, withdrawing her contact.

“No, it’s okay. Actually, I want to talk about it. Up in the room I was just brooding, which wasn’t helping anything. It’s good for me to talk.”

“So what did you do after you talked with your friend from New York?”

“Of course, I was taken aback. I asked him where on earth he’d heard such a thing. Well, he’d heard it on CNN as part of a piece on medical tourism. Can you imagine?”

Jennifer’s lower jaw slowly dropped open; she had seen the same segment as Lucinda’s friend, although possibly not at the same time.

“Anyway,” Lucinda continued with progressive control over her fragile emotions, “while I was still talking to my friend, insisting that Herbert was just fine, the second phone line began to ring. I asked the friend to hold for a moment while I pressed the other button. It turned out that it was the hospital — specifically, our case manager — informing me that Herbert had indeed died.”

Lucinda paused again. There were no more tears, just some deep breathing.

“Take your time,” Jennifer urged.

Lucinda nodded as the waiter came over to inquire if they wanted more coffee. Both women shook their heads, totally preoccupied with their private conversation.

“I thought it was horrid that CNN knew about my husband before I did. But I didn’t say anything at the time. I was too overwhelmed by the news. All I did was tell Kashmira Varini I’d come right to the hospital.”

“Hold up!” Jennifer said, raising her hands for emphasis. “Your case manager’s name is Kashmira Varini?

“Yes, it is. Do you know her?”

“I can’t say I know her, but I’ve met her. She was Granny’s case manager, too. This is getting stranger still. This morning I asked her about your husband’s death, and she told me she wasn’t aware of it.”

“She certainly was aware of it. It was she whom I met last night.”

“Good grief,” Jennifer voiced. “I had a feeling the woman wasn’t trustworthy, but why would she lie about something I could easily find out about?”

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“I can tell you one thing. When I see her this afternoon, I’m going to ask her directly. This is ridiculous. What does she think we are, children, that she can just out-and-out lie to our faces?”

“Perhaps it has something to do with their need for confidentiality.”

“Bullshit!” Jennifer said, and then caught herself. “Pardon the language. I’m just getting progressively ticked off.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I raised two boys.”

“Maybe so, but most people don’t give women the same latitude. But getting back to CNN. Something very similar happened to me.” Jennifer went on to explain how she, too, had heard about her grandmother’s passing on CNN and had actually called both the healthcare company that had arranged everything and the hospital itself only to be reassured that her grandmother was doing fine. It was only later when she got a call back from the hospital by Mrs. Varini that she learned the truth and that her granny had indeed passed away.

“How bizarre! It sounds as if the right hand doesn’t talk to the left hand at the Queen Victoria.”

“I’m wondering if it might be worse than that,” Jennifer replied.

“Like what?”

Jennifer smiled, shook her head, and shrugged her shoulders all at the same time. “I haven’t the foggiest idea. Of course, we could just be suffering from grief-driven paranoia. I’m the first one to admit I’m far from my right mind with the shock of losing my best friend, mother, and grandmother — all at once. On top of that, I’m learning that jet lag is not for kids. I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep. Maybe I’m not thinking so well, either. I mean, it could be that elective surgical deaths are so uncommon for the Queen Victoria that they don’t quite know how to handle it. After all, they didn’t even build mortuary facilities.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Pray that my friend Laurie Montgomery comes. If she doesn’t come, I truly don’t know what I’ll do. Meanwhile, this afternoon I’m going back to the hospital. I’m going to ask Mrs. Varini why she lied to me, and I’m going to make it absolutely clear, if I haven’t already, they are not to touch Granny. What about you? Would you like to have dinner tonight?”

“What a thoughtful invitation. Can I let you know later? I just don’t know where my emotions are going to be.”

“You can let me know whenever you like. It probably will have to be early. I think what’s going to happen is that I’ll just run out of gas and then sleep for twelve hours. But what are you going to do about the hospital? Are you just going to wait until your sons get here and let them make the decisions?”

“That is exactly what I am going to do.”

“Maybe you should give our friend Mrs. Varini a call and make sure she can’t claim a misunderstanding and do something without your expressed approval. When the next of kin are grieving, it’s easy to bully them. Ironically, it’s usually about doing an autopsy, not about not doing one.”

“I think I’ll take your advice. Last night I wasn’t myself.”

“Are you done with lunch?” Jennifer asked. “I’m going to head back to the hospital. I was going to go to the embassy, but I think I’ll put that off. I want to pose a few questions to the case manager, like why she lied to me. I’ll let you know if I learn anything startling.”

Having already signed their respective checks, the women stood, and several busboys ran over and pulled out their chairs. The restaurant was now full, forcing them to weave among a crowd of people waiting for tables. Out in the lobby, they said their good-byes with a promise to talk later. Just as they were about to separate, Jennifer thought of something else. “I think I’m going to look into the CNN connection if possible. Would you mind terribly finding out from your New York friend exactly when he saw the segment about your husband, New York time?”

“I’d be happy to. I’d planned to call him back. I know he felt terrible about having broken the news.”

They were about to separate again when Lucinda said, “Thank you for encouraging me to come out of my room. I think this was a lot healthier, and I’m afraid I wouldn’t have if left to my own devices.”

“It was my pleasure,” Jennifer responded. She was holding her phone in preparation for calling her car and driver.