Vital Signs

2

"Damn!" Marissa said as her eyes rapidly roamed her office. She could not imagine where she could have put her keys. For the tenth time she pulled open her central desk drawer, the place where she always put them. They weren't there. Irritated, she shuffled through the contents of the drawer, then slammed it.

"Holy Toledo!" she said as she looked at her watch. She had less than thirty minutes to get from her office over to the Sheraton Hotel where she was scheduled to receive an award. Nothing seemed to be cooperating. First she had an emergency: six-year-old

Cindy Markham with a severe asthma attack. Now she could not find her keys.

Marissa pursed her lips with frustration and tried to retrace her steps. Suddenly she remembered. She'd taken home a bunch of charts the night before. Stepping over to the file cabinet, she saw the keys immediately. She snatched them up and headed for the door.

She got as far as her hand on the doorknob when the phone rang. At first she was tempted to ignore it, but her conscience quickly intervened. There was always a chance it involved Cindy Markham.

With a sigh, Marissa went to her desk and leaned over to pick up the receiver.

"What is it?" she asked with uncharacteristic curtness.

"Is this Dr. Blumenthal?" the caller queried.

"This is she," Marissa said. She didn't recognize the voice. She had expected her secretary, who was aware of her time constraint.

"This is Dr. Carpenter," said the caller.

"Do you have a minute?"

"Yes," Marissa lied. She felt a rush of anxiety, having expected his call over the last few days. She held her breath.

"First I'd like to congratulate you on your award today," Dr.

Carpenter said.

"I didn't even know you were a physician, much less an awardwinning researcher. It's kind of embarrassing to find out about your patients in the morning paper."

"Sorry," said Marissa.

"I guess I could have said." She looked at her watch.

"How on earth did a pediatrician get involved doing research on Ebola Hemorrhagic Fever?" Dr. Carpenter asked.

"It sounds pretty esoteric. Let me see, I have the newspaper right here.

"The Peabody Research Award goes to Dr. Marissa Blumenthal for the elucidation of the variables associated with the transmission of Ebola virus from primary to secondary contacts." Wow!"

"I spent a couple of years at the CDC in Atlanta," Marissa explained.

"I got assigned to a case where Ebola virus was being intentionally spread in HMOs."

"Of course!" Dr. Carpenter said.

"I remember reading about that. My God, was that you?"

"Afraid so," Marissa said.

"As I recall, you almost got killed!" Dr. Carpenter said with obvious admiration.

"I was lucky," Marissa said.

"Very lucky." She wondered what Dr. Carpenter would have said if she told him that during her biopsy his blue eyes had reminded her of the man who had tried to kill her.

"I'm impressed," Dr. Carpenter admitted.

"And I'm glad to have some good news for you. Usually my secretary makes these calls, but after reading about you this morning, I wanted to call myself. The biopsy specimens were all fine. It was merely a mild dysplasia. As I told you that day, the culdoscopy suggested as much, but it is nice to be a hundred percent certain. Why don't you schedule a follow-up Pap smear in four to six months? After that, we can let you go for a year at least."

"Great," said Marissa.

"I will. And thanks for the good news."

"My pleasure," Dr. Carpenter said.

Marissa shifted her feet. She was still embarrassed by her behavior at the biopsy. Gathering her courage, she apologized again.

"Hey, don't give it another thought," Dr. Carpenter said.

"But after your experience I've decided I don't like that ketamine stuff.

I told anesthesia not to use it on any more of my cases. I know the drug has some good points, but I've had a couple of other patients with bad trips like yours, So please don't apologize. But tell me, have you had any other problems since the biopsy?"

"Not really," Marissa said.

"The worst part of the whole experience was the drug-induced nightmare. I've even had the same dream a couple more times since the biopsy."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing," Dr. Carpenter said.

"Anyway, next time we won't give you ketamine. How's that for a promise?"

"I think I'll be steering clear of doctors for a while," Marissa said.

"That's a healthy attitude," Dr. Carpenter said with a laugh.

"But as I said before, let's see you back in four months or so."

Hanging up the phone, Marissa rushed from her office. She waved hastily to her secretary, Mindy Valdanus, then repeatedly hit the Down elevator button. She had fifteen minutes to get to the Sheraton, an impossible feat given Boston traffic. Yet she was pleased with her conversation with Dr. Carpenter. She had a good feeling about the man. She had to chuckle when she thought about the sinister creature he had been transformed into in her nightmare. It amazed her what drugs could do.

At last the elevator arrived. Of course the best thing about the phone conversation was learning that the cervical biopsy was normal. But then a stray thought cropped up as the elevator descended to the garage. What would she do if the next Pap smear proved to be abnormal?

"Damn!" she said aloud, dismissing the gloomy thought.

There was always something!