Angel of Mercy Read Free

only minutes but were really closer to hours, the doctor was peering down at him with Jennie at his side.
    “Was it a heart attack?” Frankie demanded. He was breathing easier and, remarkably, only felt fatigue in his legs now.
    “I want to do more testing and observe you, of course,” the doctor replied, “but my preliminary diagnosis is hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.”
    Frankie pulled at his earlobe like Humphrey Bogart in The Maltese Falcon.
    “My medical jargon is a bit rusty, Doc.”
    Jennie smiled.
    The doctor, Pauling, a cardiologist at the Desert Hospital, pulled himself into a more formal stance and began as if he were lecturing to a classroom of med students.
    “Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy denotes a condition in which there is a thickening of the heart muscle. This makes it more difficult for the heart to pump blood away from itself to the rest of the body. This can cause the blood to back up, creating such symptoms as shortness of breath. Have you been experiencing that, Mr. Samuels?”
    Frankie shifted his eyes to Jennie, who was now smirking with irritation.
    “Yes, he has,” she answered for him. “But he’s always telling me it’s nothing.”
    “Well… I just thought it was because I needed to lose some weight.”
    “That will certainly help.”
    “How bad is this hyper… whatever?”
    “Well, it won’t stop you from performing your ordinary day-to-day activities. The condition becomes dangerous, however, when you engage in strenuous physical activity. As you’ve discovered,” he added dryly.
    “So I got a fat heart, huh?”
    “Well, not fat as such. It’s more analogous to the stretching of a thick rubber band compared to the stretching of a thin one. Your heart has a difficult time relaxing.”
    “My heart? Hell, my heart’s always relaxed, isn’t it, Jen?”
    “This isn’t funny, Frankie.”
    “I’m really not laughing. Okay, Doc, what do we do next?”
    “After a few more tests, I anticipate recommending a permanent pacemaker,” Dr. Pauling said.
    “Pacemaker? Jesus.” It was as if all of his years had hit him at once.
    “The procedure requires only a local anesthetic. We will implant the device under your collarbone with a wire leading to the bottom of your heart. The pacemaker will reverse the contraction wave of your heart and as a result, ease the obstruction caused by the backup of blood.”
    Frankie just stared, wishing he were dreaming. Dr. Pauling turned to Jennie as if he saw that Frankie had fallen into a daze and was no longer listening.
    “Usually, pacemakers are used to regulate the speed of the heart, but in this case it would simply alter the contraction pattern of the heart muscle.”
    Jennie nodded and Dr. Pauling turned back to Frankie.
    “After I run you through a few more tests, you can go home for a while.
    We’ll schedule the procedure in a week or so. In the meantime you will have to avoid any really strenuous physical activities.”
    “He will,” Jennie promised. She glared at him.
    Frankie let his head drop to the pillow.
    “I’ll look in on him shortly,” Dr. Pauling said as he left.
    “Nolan’s going to pressure me to retire now,” Frankie moaned. “How can I be a cop with a pacemaker?”
    “He doesn’t have to pressure you, Frankie. You’ll do it on your own,”
    Jennie predicted. He widened his eyes and gazed up at her.
    “Oh really?”
    “Frankie, most people don’t get second chances, especially at…”
    “At my age? Go on, say it.” He turned away. He hated feeling sorry for himself, but at the moment it seemed impossible to do otherwise. “Did you call the counselor?”
    “What do you think?” Jennie replied. He turned back to her.
    “Maybe he was in court.”
    “No, he was in the office. He should be arriving any minute.”
    Frankie pretended to be upset, but he was actually looking forward to seeing his son, Stevie. At twenty eight, he was the youngest junior partner at Klein, Clapper, and Brogen, a prestigious