Date: Tue, 5 Feb 2008 14:25:30 -0800 (PST)
From: JMH <trandar2002@yahoo.com>
Subject: Love in Passing: Chapter 1: to be filed in the Beginnings section
Well folks here's a story I never did get around to ever posting on Nifty
Since I need to replace The Centurion, it's getting published, I'm posting
this new tale for your enjoyement. In about a week or so The Centurion
will be up for sale on Amazon for those interested. I'll post more once I
have all the details. Take care.
JMH
trandar2002@yahoo.com
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/adultwritingworkshop/
***************************************************
Love in Passing
By
JMH
"Hello, may I help you?" The pretty brunet secretary smiled,
as she looked away from the computer screen on her desk to the tall, smarty
dressed, and blond young man standing in front of her.
"Yes... I'm Dr. Steven Nash... I have an appointment with
Dr. Richardson," he replied.
The woman raised a long nailed finger as her other hand busied
itself with a phone. "Just a moment... Dr. Richardson, your 9:00 AM is
here," she said into the receiver.
"You can go in now," she said after she had hung up the phone.
"Thank you," Steven said, as he followed her into the chief
administrator's office.
"Steven... so you're finally here." The middle aged and half
bald figure of Dr. Timothy Richardson smiled as he stood up from his folder
laden desk.
"Always happy to do a friend a favor," Steven replied, as he
shook his old med-school mentor's hand.
"This is more than a favor I am asking of you," Tim said, as he
waved a hand to an empty seat.
"Hey, what can I say... life's been good to me. It's about
time I gave something back to the community."
"Still... giving up a very profitable practice in the suburbs
to join us in the trenches of inner city medicine, where less than half of
our patients have health insurance."
"As I said, life's been good," Steven said, as he pulled on the
cuffs of his long sleeved shirt.
"Is that an Armani?" Tim said in disbelief.
"Would you kill me if I said yes?" Steven chuckled.
"I might rip it off you and sell it on E-Bay. It might at
least help us pay one nurse's overtime." Tim replied.
"I'll be sure to dress more casually the next time then."
"That might be a good idea... this hospital is not located in
the best part of town, if you have not noticed. If it wasn't for the fact
that we are the only inner city hospital left in town, I'm not sure the
state would keep us open. As it is, we are under-funded and
under-appreciated, and underpaid."
"That will not be a problem for me," Steven said confidently.
"That is what I am not sure about... the people you will be
treating are not the high end, well mannered clients you are used to
dealing with. Most of them are at the end of their ropes mentally, not to
mention financially. Luckily, most drug companies' PR divisions have taken
pity on us. They keep us fairly well supplied. All we have to do is give
them a receipt, so they can claim a tax write off, and mention how generous
they have been to us in our newsletters."
"I see you have not lost your cynical attitude." Steven
laughed.
"Watch it yuppie... back when you were in diapers I was a free
thinking idealist, with plenty of hair, plenty of sex, and enough spunk to
have myself almost thrown out of med school. Now I'm a bald, fat, divorced
father of three who's not gotten lucky in ages and whose radical idealism
has become a rusty old cog in the machinery of this hospital's
administration. The only benefit I get from this place is that I make so
little that my ex can't sue me for alimony."
"Well then, I guess me being here will help brighten up the
place. When do you want me to start?"
"Today... if you have time." Tim replied.
"Today... You've not even given me the grand tour."
"Don't worry... as this is your first day, I'm only going to
hit you with one patient."
"Just one... come on, I'm used to working from 7:00 AM to 10:00
PM."
"I know. You're career has been most impressive. The patient
I have in mind, though, is a special case."
"Oh?"
"Yes... he's one of our own doctors."
"This dreary place finally got to him?" Steven asked, as he
looked up at the mildew stained ceiling tile.
"If that were true, he would have left us long ago," Tim
replied. "You see, the man I am referring to is Dr. Gavin."
"Archangel Gavin?" Steven said, remembering the name from the
news. The man was head of the ER at Memorial Hospital and, from what local
media said, he was supposedly a miracle worker.
"Yes... that's what the media call him. Among the staff,
though, he is known as the Stone King."
"I take it then that his bedside manner is lacking?"
"No... he is very warm and sympathetic with his patients, and
very patient with the staff. It is just that once he walks outside of this
hospital, it is as if a switch is flipped. He becomes cold, unresponsive,
and unbearable to be around."
So he's not the life of the party?"
"That's putting it bluntly. Remember the storm three weeks
ago?"
"Yes... played havoc with the telephone and power lines."
"It also brought more people to our ER than we are used to
handling. With the phone lines dead we couldn't get in contact with the
exchange to have them call in more doctors... at least not all of them."
"You mean they don't pay you enough to have cell phones?"
Steven asked with disbelief.
"No... it just turned out that Dr. Gavin has never owned one."
Tim sighed. "That's why I sent Stephanie, one of our candy strippers, over
to his place to bring him here."
"And what did she find... that he secretly has his own
Frankenstein lab?"
"No... she found nothing, and that's what has us worried."
"How can you be worried about nothing?" Steven asked confused.
"You don't get it... there was nothing at his place. No TV, no
furniture, no appliances, no refrigerator, not even a bed. All she saw was
a single garbage can, a twelve pack of diet Sprite, a pile of neatly
stacked clothes, a thick quilt, and a telephone lying on the floor."
Steven sat silently as he let what Tim had just told him sink
in. He could think of several reasons why a famed doctor might live such a
minimalist life style... but none of them really made much sense.
"So... you want me to find out what's really up with Dr. Gavin?"
"Yes... this hospital can't afford to lose its best
physician... not one whom it uses as its poster boy for all of our
fundraising. It's not just his iceberg personality, and lack of interior
decorating. It's that over the past few months, staff has reported finding
him crying in the doctor's lounge or in empty exam rooms. Something is
wrong with him Steven. He's not happy."
"Does he know you and I are having this conversation?" Steven
asked.
"He knows... The moment after you walked into my office Tara
paged him. He should be waiting for you in his office."
"So... he wants treatment?"
"In a manner of speaking." Tim said evasively.
"Why do I sense a little underhandedness on your part?" Steven
chuckled.
"Would I ever stoop to something so low?" Dr. Richardson
winked. "Tara will take you to his office.
"Fine, keep your secret. I'm certain Dr. Gavin will tell me
what method of blackmail you're using this time." Steven said as he stood
up to leave.
Exiting the office, Dr. Nash caught Tara applying lipstick
while staring into her tiny compact. "I hope you are not going to such
efforts on my behalf." Steven smiled.
"Dr. Nash!" The secretary squeaked as she snapped the mirror
closed.
"Dr. Richardson said you were to show me to Dr. Gavin's
office."
"Of course sir... if you will follow me." Tara said as she
stood up, walking in front of Steven, doing an excessive amount of
swishing, to Dr. Nash's amusement.
Leading him down the basement past the morgue, she quickly
turned around after reaching the end of a poorly lit hall, holding a small
white card in her hand. "This part of town might seem drab, but I could
show you a few of the more interesting sights."
"Like the gay bar three blocks away?" Steven asked, taking
great pleasure in the look of shock and disappointment that grew on the
woman's face.
"Damn it, Tim said nothing about you being gay."
"You know Tim... he likes keeping secrets... gives him a sense
of empowerment."
"That bastard," Tara swore. "Well I guess Andy will win the
bet."
"Bet?" Steven asked with an arched eyebrow.
"It's sort of a tradition around here... whenever an eligible
bachelor comes, we unmarried girls and the few gay boys see who sleeps with
him first."
"How big is the pot this time?" Steven asked.
"A little over five hundred dollars this time," Tara replied,
clearly miffed.
"A big stakes game." Steven laughed.
"Yeah... which is, of course, all Dr. Richardson's fault. He
passed around a few old photos of you back when you were a med student."
"Hmmmm... then I must not be as good looking as I think I am.
My face is worth at least three grand."
"Oh... you're one of those."
"Charmingly handsome?"
"No, you're still a bastard... just now I know you are one of
those egocentric bastards."
"Naw... I'm a psychiatrist, not a surgeon." Steven replied.
"Could have fooled me." Tara retorted.
Reaching into his pants pocket, Steven took out a money clip.
"Here's five hundred dollars, add that to the pot."
"I don't see why I should. I'm not going to win it."
"But wouldn't you enjoy watching all your friends scrabble
about trying to win a cool grand?"
"That's Dr. Richardson's pastime, not mine, but I see your
point. It would be fun to watch all them clawing at each other," Tara
said, just as her beeper went off. "I have to go now."
"Take care," Steven said, turning to face the smoky glass door
before knocking on it.
"Come in." A man's voice replied.
Opening the door, Steven walked into a tiny dark office, the
only light coming from the x-rays that were displayed across an entire
wall. At one end of the room, sitting behind a small desk, sat a man
dressed in a long white doctor's coat, resting his head in his hands.
"I take it you are Dr. Nash?" The man asked.
"Yes," Steven said as gently as he could. For some reason he
felt as if the room he was in was littered with broken glass. "You are
Dr. Daryl Gavin?"
"Yes... I still seem to be," Dr. Gavin chuckled nervously.
"May I take a seat?" Steven asked, pointing to the folded metal
chair resting against the wall. It seemed that Daryl did not get many
visitors down here in the dark recesses of the rundown hospital.
"Yes... I'm sorry. Dr. Richardson told me you were coming
last week. I should have cleaned up the place," Daryl said, as he seemed
almost to scurry from his seat to the light switch, flooding the room with
white florescent light.
Now able to see the room clearly, Steven was surprised to find
that it was not the total wreck he had at first assumed it would be. The
desk was covered with charts but all of them seemed neatly organized into
well kept stacks. The floor was not only clear of any litter, but shone
with a polish that had been lacking in the parts of the hospital Steven had
seen so far. In fact, the only thing that seemed out of place was the
atmosphere of sterility that filled the room. It was as if the room was
not the office of one of the city's busiest doctors, but a museum's example
of what a doctor's office was supposed to look like.
Remembering what Tim has said about what was found at
Dr. Gavin's home, Steven began to wonder if he was dealing with someone
with an obsessive compulsion for cleanliness. "So, tell me, how did Tim
blackmail you into agreeing to see me?" Steven asked, deciding light humor
was the best approach.
"He threatened to fire me." Daryl replied as he returned to
his chair.
"You knew that was a bluff... didn't you. He can't fire his
best doctor, not the one who brings in so much needed funding," Steven
said, wanting to get an idea of Dr. Gavin's grip on reality, and only
receiving a shrug in reply.
"Come on... you can do better than that." Steven pressed.
"I knew he would most likely not fire me, but I saw no reason to challenge
him on the issue. I'm needed here, that's all that matters," Daryl replied
with little emotion.
"And I must say you have done an excellent job," Steven said, thinking of
the nickname the staff had given Dr. Gavin... Stone King.
"It's what I have to do," Daryl replied.
"And why is that?" Steven asked curiously. "Certainly you have received
offers from other hospitals... I mean you are the archangel."
"I hate that name," Daryl said with disgust, showing the first hint of
emotion Steven was able to observe from him.
"Not the religious type?" Steven snickered.
"I am!" Daryl insisted, his eyes opening wide.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend."
"Not your fault. You know nothing about me."
"From what I understand, nobody knows much about you... other
than that you are a brilliant doctor."
"Now that is my fault." Daryl chuckled with a weak smile.
"Well, that's why I'm here, to help you figure things out."
"I don't think I want that."
"And why's that? Do you like being miserable? Because, quite
frankly, after ten years of medical practice I've not seen a patient as sad
looking as you."
"That's suppose to impress me?"
"No... that's supposed to worry you."
"That may be, but I don't see what help you can offer."
"I can be an ear for you. Help you sort things out. There are
also some pretty amazing medications available now."
"I can't take drugs," Daryl said quickly.
"That's a peculiar thing for a doctor to say. Then again,
doctors are supposed to make the worse patients."
"It's not that... I just can't be taking anything that's
mind-altering."
"You a Mormon or Scientologist?"
"No..." Daryl said in a tone that did not invite further
discussion.
"We can talk about that later," Steven replied, knowing when not
to press. "Tell me why you're so unhappy?"
"Because I deserve to be."
"Now that's not very American of you. Is this not the land
where the pursuit of happiness is a God given right?"
"..." Daryl remained silent.
"Ok... why do you think you don't deserve to be happy?"
"Because of the things I have done, the crimes I have
committed," Daryl said evasively.
"Crimes?" Steven asked with an arched eyebrow. "You're not
thinking of committing a crime or hurting someone?"
"No... it's not like that. I've never broken the law, not
even had a speeding ticket," Daryl said.
"Then what did you mean by saying you've committed crimes?"
Steven asked as he saw Daryl squeeze something hidden under his shirt.
"I've committed crimes against my church and family."
"I see... you sure you're not a Mormon?"
"No Dr. Nash... I'm not," Daryl replied, once again in a tone
that did not invite further questions.
Hearing his cell phone go off, Steven did not get to his next
question. Unhooking the phone from his belt, he opened it. "Hello?"
"Hey Steve." A very familiar voice replied.
"Hey Patrick... is this going to be a short call?"
"They already have you seeing patients?" the Man chuckled.
"Just one... sitting with him right now."
"Is he cute?" Patrick asked.
Steven looked across the desk, giving Daryl a quick look before
responding. "You might say so."
"Well I hope you remember why you are really there... no monkey
business."
"Yes... I've learned my lesson." Steven sighed.
"Good... I was just calling to let you know that the store
only had pre-frozen salmon so I went for the Ahi tuna. Does that sound ok
for dinner?"
"Sounds find with me... just be careful with the pepper this
time."
"But I like pepper." The voice on the other end pouted.
"Patrick..." Steve warned.
"Fine... I'll cook yours separately."
"Thank you." Steve said as his eyes noticed Daryl starting to
fidget. "Is there anything else?"
"Yes... I got the Stockton report ready. It will be waiting
for you on your desk."
`Thanks... hopefully that will be the last one I have you do."
"Considering what happened... so do I. Take care."
"You too," Steven said before closing his cell phone. "Sorry
about that... family stuff."
"I see." Daryl replied just as his beeper went off.
Steven watched as Doctor Gavin looked at his pager, the
expression on his face melting into a frown. "You have to go?"
"Yes, I'm sorry. We have a TSTL upstairs."
"A TSTL?" Steven asked, not recognizing the lingo.
"Too stupid to live." Daryl sighed as he stood up. "The nurses
came up with it."
"Not a very nice thing to say," Steven chuckled.
"You have to know the patient," Daryl replied, heading for the
door.
"I see... in med school I think we called them `repeat
offenders'." Steven said as he followed after Dr. Gavin.
"Funny," Daryl chuckled lightly. "Shall I have someone show
you the way out."
"I'm going with you... gives me a chance to see the archangel
in action."
"Fine... but stop referring to me as the archangel, gets on my
nerves."
"Would you rather I call you the Stone King?"
"My name is Daryl," Dr. Gavin grunted.
"Alright Dr. Dare."
"Daryl." He corrected.
"No, I think I like Dare better," Steven insisted.
"Whatever," Daryl sighed, opening the door to the stairwell and
taking the steps two at a time.
Following Dr. Gavin to one of the ER's exam rooms, Stephen had
to control a burst of laughter when he saw the patient. Lying on his
stomach on the exam table, the man had what looked like half a clarinet
sticking out of his ass.
"Well Ed... want to tell me what you were trying to do this
time?" Daryl asked, his face remaining stoic as he slapped on a pair of
latex gloves.
"Don't bother Dr. Gavin... he's too stoned," Jessica, a short
black nurse replied.
"What about what's his name... his friend Sid?"
"Rotting in jail hopefully," the nurse replied. He's the one
the police decided sold Mr. Baron whatever shit he is now on."
"Language..." Daryl sighed. "This is a hospital not a bar."
"Sorry, Dr. Gavin," Jessica apologized, waiting for Daryl to
turn to examine Ed before sticking out her tongue at him.
After watching Daryl apply an anesthetic, and carefully remove
the instrument section by section, Steven had to admit he was impressed.
Most doctors, even in the ER, would not have acted so calmly, not when the
removal of the clarinet's mouth piece soon triggered a spray of fecal
material.
"Code brown... we have a code brown in exam room three,"
Stephanie laughed on the intercom, while Dr. Gavin went to the sink to
clean his face.
"You ok?" Steven asked concerned.
"Yes, fine... should have seen that coming," Daryl replied,
wiping his glasses clean before turning to face Jessica. "Clean Mr. Baron
up and see him on his way."
"That's all?" Jessica asked, surprised.
"I would put him on pain meds, but it took a court order to get
him off them last time," Daryl replied. "I gave him Celebrex last time,
but thinking it was like Vicoden he tried to get himself stoned on it. Had
to pump his stomach."
"We could keep him here a few days... at least till the
swelling goes down."
"You know I would like to do that, Jessica, but with the bed
shortage I can't justify it. I tried to get him a bed in a mental
facility, but since the shrinks at the state hospital don't see him as a
danger to anyone they won't give him one."
"Maybe I can help?" Steven offered.
"You got any pull with the state hospital?" Daryl asked.
"No... but I do sit on the medical boards of three private
ones."
"Ed doesn't have insurance." Dr. Gavin warned.
"Don't worry... I can pay for it." Steven said as he reached
for his cell phone.
Three phone calls later, Mr. Baron was in an ambulance being
taken to a private hospital located outside the city.
"Thank you," Daryl said to Steven when he reached the end of
his eighteen hour shift four hours later.
"Not a problem... just wish I could have gotten you to go along
as well."
"You really think I'm that bad?" Daryl asked, as he walked into
the doctor's lounge.
"No... you're not schizophrenic. You are certainly suffering
from a depressive episode however."
"So, what is your recommended prescription?" Daryl asked, as he
popped three quarters into the soda machine and selected a root beer.
"Well, since you have already said you won't take any
medication... I think I would concentrate on cognitive, followed by
behavioral therapy."
"So... you believe my depression is caused by delusional or
misguided thinking?" Daryl chuckled before taking a swig of his soda.
"You're a doctor. Did you do a psychiatry rotation?"
"No... but I did take a basic psychology course."
"Ah... and were you like most 101 students, thinking you could
self diagnose yourself after a single course? I know I did." Steven
laughed.
"No... it did teach me enough to know I really didn't want
someone fumbling through my head though."
"But you are going to let me `fumble' about inside you, as you
say."
"Only because I would find Dr. Richardson's attempts more
annoying," Daryl replied, wiping the foam from his mouth.
"Good... then I expect to see you in my office tomorrow,"
Steven grinned.