Dutch Shoe Mystery Read Free Page A

everybody’s been notified? There’ll be a sweet family party here, I’ll wager.”
    “Not in the operating-room, there won’t,” said Minchen grimly. “The whole kit and boodle of ’em will be in the Waiting Room next door. Family’s barred from the theater, don’t you know that? Well! How’d you like to take a little walk around? Love to show you the place. If I do say so, it’s a model of hospitalization.”
    “With you, John.”
    They left Minchen’s office and walked down the North Corridor the way they had come. Minchen pointed out the door to the Amphitheater Gallery, from which they would later view the operation; and the door to the Waiting Room. “Some of the Doorn crowd are probably in there now,” commented Minchen. “Can’t have ’em wandering around. … Two auxiliary operating-rooms off the West Corridor,” he went on as they rounded the corner. “We’re pretty busy at all times—have one of the largest surgical staffs in the East. … Across the corridor, on the left here, is the main operating-room—called the Amphitheater—which has two special rooms, an Anteroom and an Anæsthesia Room. As you can see, there’s a door to the Anteroom off this corridor—the West—and another entrance, to the Anæsthesia Room, around the corner in the South Corridor. … Amphitheater’s where the big operations take place; it’s also used for demonstration purposes to the internes and nurses. Of course, we have other operating-rooms upstairs.”
    The Hospital was strangely quiet. Occasionally a white-garbed figure flitted through the long halls. Noise seemed to have been entirely eliminated; doors swung on heavily oiled hinges and made no sound when they slipped shut. A soft diffused light bathed the interior of the building; and except for the chemical odor the air was singularly pure.
    “By the way,” said Ellery suddenly, as they sauntered into the South Corridor, “I believe you said before that Mrs. Doorn wouldn’t be given anæsthetic for the operation. Is that only because she is in a coma? I’ve been under the impression that anæsthesia is administered in all surgical cases.”
    “Fair question,” admitted Minchen. “And it’s true that in most cases—virtually all cases—anæsthesia is used. But diabetics are funny people. You know—or rather I suppose you don’t know—that any surgical operation is dangerous to a chronic diabetic. Even minor surgery may be fatal. Had a case just the other day—patient came into the dispensary with a festered toe—some poor devil. The doctor in charge—well, it’s just one of those unforeseeable accidents of dispensary routine. The toe was cleaned, the patient went home. Next morning he was found dead. Post mortem examination showed the man to be full of sugar. Probably never knew it himself. …
    “What I started out to say was that cutting is holy hell on diabetics. When an operation is absolutely necessary a buildup process is instituted—which accomplishes over a comparatively short period the task of temporarily restoring a normal sugar content in the patient’s blood. And even while the operation is being performed alternate injections of insulin and glucose are given without let-up to keep the sugar content normal. They’ll have to do that with Abby Doorn. She’s being injected now with these insulin-glucose treatments; taking blood-tests right along to check up on the diminution of sugar milligrams. This emergency treatment takes about an hour and a half, perhaps two hours. Generally the treatment is stretched over a month or so; too rapid building up may affect the liver. But we have no choice with Abby Doorn; that gall bladder rupture can’t be neglected, even for half a day.”
    “Yes, but how about the anæsthetic?” objected Ellery. “Would that make the operation even riskier? Is that why you’re relying on the comatose condition to pull her through the shock?”
    “Exactly. Riskier and more complicated. We must