Cell Read Free

he hadn’t been prosecuted, due to the circumstances, yet he had been worried.
    â€œLet’s finish the study,” George said, shaking himself free of his disturbing thoughts.
    â€œThere’s only fourteen minutes to go,” Susan said.
    Returning to his chair, George forced himself to go back to flipping through the radiology journal, trying not to think. For a time no one talked. No other abnormalities were found besides the two small lesions, which were undoubtedly tumors, but the implications of that finding hung like a miasma over the control room.
    â€œI’m afraid,” Claudine said, breaking the silence and giving voice to what they were all thinking, “that, with the patient’s history, the lesions are most likely metastases of the patient’s original pancreatic tumor.”
    George nodded, and said churlishly, mostly to Claudine, “Okay, now, quick reminder: We do not say or indicate in any manner anything to the patient, beyond mentioning that the test went well, which it did. The material will be read by the senior radiology attending, and a report will be sent to the patient’s oncologist and primary-care doctor. Any ‘informing’ will be done by them. Understood?”
    Claudine nodded. She certainly understood, but the admonishment and its tone came across harsher than George had intended and created an uncomfortable silence. Susan looked down, busying herself by arranging her paperwork just so.
    George realized how he sounded and launched into a little damage control. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled-for. You’re doing a great job, Claudine. Not just today, but in your whole month of rotation.” He meant it, too. Claudine relaxed visibly and even smiled. George sighed as the previous awkwardness dissolved. He needed to get a grip on himself.
    â€œWhat’s our schedule for the rest of the day?” he asked.
    Claudine consulted her iPad. “Two more MRIs. One at eleven, the other at one thirty. Then, of course, whatever comes in from emergency.”
    â€œAny trouble with the two scheduled MRIs, you think?”
    â€œNo. Why?”
    â€œI have to step out for two or three hours. I want to go to a conference over in Century City. Amalgamated Healthcare, the insurance giant and our hospital’s new owner, has a presentation planned for would-be investors. It’s something about a new solution they have come up with to end the shortage of primary-care physicians. Can you imagine: a health insurance company solving the primary-care shortage? What a stretch.”
    â€œOh, sure! An insurance company solution to the lack of primary-care physicians,” Claudine mocked skeptically. “Now, that sounds like a fantasy if I ever heard one, especially with Obamacare adding thirty million previously uninsured into a system that was already functioning poorly.”
    â€œYou sure the presentation isn’t being held down at Disneyland?” Susan said as she prepared to go into the imaging room to see to the patient, who at the moment was being slid out of the MRI machine by an attendant.
    â€œMight as well be,” George said. Even though they were making light of the situation, it was a serious issue. “I’m really curious what they are going to say. It would take a decade, at the very least, to train enough doctors to fill the gap, provided they can talk doctors into practicing primary care, which isn’t a given. Anyway, I’d like to go hear what they have to say, if you don’t have any problem.”
    â€œMe?” Claudine asked. She shook her head. “I don’t have a problem. Knock yourself out!”
    â€œAre you sure?”
    â€œVery sure.”
    â€œOkay. Text me if you need me. I can make it back in about fifteen minutes if I’m needed.”
    â€œNo prob,” Claudine said. “Gotcha covered.”
    â€œWe’ll review them when I get back.” He paused.