The Children's Ward Read Free

He stood and walked to the window, looking toward the new ward. “He’s a very bright boy, doesn’t like to take pain medication—he says he doesn’t think about it when it hurts—and he hasn’t given up yet.”
    “Will we be able to help him?”
    “God willing.”
    “And the others?”
    “Abigail Ballard was referred to me by a neurologist at Johns Hopkins. She’s something of an enigma; she presents the classic symptoms of a brain tumor but her CT scans are inconclusive. Tessi Vincent is hypertensive, anemic and has episodes of psychogenic vomiting. Her doctor in New Mexico had worked here several years ago and thought we might be able to help. Courtney, well…her godfather is on the board of directors.”
    “A disparate group,” Quinn commented.
    “But with one point in common; none of them have responded to customary treatments.” He turned to face her. “By removing them from the traditional hospital setting, we might be able to determine if outside factors are complicating their ailments.”
    “Outside factors?”
    “The sights, sounds, and smells of a hospital can be disturbing even to healthy adults. To a sick child, the sound of someone moaning in the night can be terrifying.” He paused. “By controlling the stimuli, we might be able to control the response.”
    “It’s an interesting thought.”
    “We’re going to do a full work-up on each of them, although they all have had extensive diagnostic work in the past, and see if we can’t find some answers. The answers may be unconventional, but my contention is that you treat the child rather the disease.”
    Quinn nodded. “I certainly agree with that. I’ve treated children who had come to refer to themselves by their diagnoses. Ask their name and they tell you their medical history.”
    “Medicine does have a way of depersonalizing the patient…”
    The phone rang.
    “Medicine beckons,” Joshua said, crossing the room to answer the call.
    While he talked, Quinn went to the window, looking out, as he had done, on the children’s ward.
    It was the most secluded of the buildings and the only other building which housed patients; the remaining structures were used for laboratories, offices, and research facilities.
    As she watched, a volunteer pushing a wheelchair passed along a path which ran parallel to the main building before branching off toward the ward.
    In the wheelchair, a girl with long black hair rested, eyes closed, her hand held tightly by a well-dressed woman who walked alongside. The woman carried a large stuffed koala bear and a spotted giraffe. Every few steps she leaned over and apparently whispered to the child.
    Following behind was a man dressed in blue jeans and a red-checked shirt. A leather headband held back his shoulder-length black hair.
    “That’s Tessi.” Joshua Fuller had come up beside her. “And her parents.”
    The girl and her entourage disappeared behind a group of trees.
    “I have to go over to the administrator’s office to sign the application forms for another research grant and then we’ll go over to the ward. Why don’t you go down to the switchboard and pick up a pager? In a facility this size, it’s a vital piece of equipment and things may get a little chaotic this afternoon…”
    “I handle chaos very well,” Quinn said matter-of-factly.
    He laughed. “Then you’re qualified for this job.”
     
     
     

Four
     
    The nurse stood, blocking the doors to the ward. “Afternoon visiting hours don’t start until one p.m.,” she said.
    “You don’t understand,” Alicia Vincent said with infinite patience. “My daughter is only ten years old; she needs her mother with her.”
    “There are other patients in the ward, Mrs. Vincent…”
    “Ms. Vincent.”
    “Ms. Vincent…I can’t allow you to disturb them. I believe one of the children is sleeping.”
    “I’ll be very quiet.” Her smile was frigid.
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Perhaps you should page Dr. Fuller…”
    The man,