maximizing the helplessness of people waiting for bad news. Cheap vinyl chairs in bright orange stood primly against muted salmon-colored walls; a collection of old Better Homes and Gardens, Sports Illustrated, and McCall’s were strewn about on chairs and a kidney-shaped metal table. My only companion was a middle-aged, well-made-up woman who smoked endlessly. She showed no emotion, did not move except to take another cigarette from her case and light it with a gold lighter. Not being a smoker, I didn’t even have that for amusement.
I had conscientiously read every word about the controversial sixth game of the 1985 World Series when the woman I’d spoken to at the nurse’s station appeared.
“Did you say you came in with the pregnant girl?” she asked me.
My blood stopped. “She-is there some news?”
She shook her head and gave a little giggle. “We just discovered no one had filled out any forms for her. Do you want to come with me and do that?”
She took me through a long series of interlocking corridors to the admissions office at the front of the hospital. A flat-chested woman with a faded blond rinse greeted me angrily.
“You should have come here as soon as you arrived,‘’ she snapped.
I peered at the name badge that doubled the size of her left breast. “You should hand out little leaflets at the emergency entrance telling people your policies. I’m not a mind reader, Mrs. Kirkland.”
“I don’t know anything about that girl-her age, her history, who to contact in case of any problems-”
“Stop the soundtrack. I’m here. I’ve contacted her physician and her family, but in the meantime, I’ll answer any questions that I can.”
The nurse’s duties weren’t pressing enough to keep her from a promising daytime soap. She leaned against the doorframe, blatantly eavesdropping. Mrs. Kirkland gave her a triumphant glance. She played better to an audience.
“We assumed here that she was with Canary and Bidwell-we have a preferred-provider arrangement with them and Carol Esterhazy phoned in the emergency. But when I called her back to get this girl’s Social Security number, I learned she doesn’t work for the plant. She’s some Mexican girl who got sick on the premises. We do not run a charity ward here. We’re going to have to move this girl to a public hospital.”
I could feel my head vibrating with rage. “Do you know anything about Illinois public-health law? I do-and it says you cannot deny emergency treatment because you think the person can’t pay. Not only that-every hospital in this state is required by law to look after a woman giving birth. I’m an attorney and I’ll be glad to send you the exact text with your subpoena for malpractice if anything happens to Mrs. Hernandez because you denied treatment.”
They’re waiting to find out if we want to move her,“ she said, her mouth set in a thin line.
“You mean they’re not treating her?” I thought the top of my head would come off and it was all I could do to keep from seizing her and smashing her face. “You get me to the head of this place. Now.”
The level of my fury shook her. Or the threat of legal action. “No, no-they’re working on her. They are. But if they don’t have to move her they’ll put her in a more permanent bed. That’s all.”
“Well, you give them a little phone call and tell them she’ll be moved if Dr. Tregiere thinks it advisable. And not until then.”
The thin line of her lips disappeared completely. “You’re going to have to talk to Mr. Humphries.” She stood with a sharp gesture meant to be intimidating, but it only made her look like a malevolent sparrow attacking a bread crumb. She hopped down a short corridor to my right and disappeared behind a heavy door.
My nurse-guide chose this moment to leave. Whoever Mr. Humphries was, she didn’t want him to catch her lounging during working
I had conscientiously read every word about the controversial sixth game of the 1985 World Series when the woman I’d spoken to at the nurse’s station appeared.
“Did you say you came in with the pregnant girl?” she asked me.
My blood stopped. “She-is there some news?”
She shook her head and gave a little giggle. “We just discovered no one had filled out any forms for her. Do you want to come with me and do that?”
She took me through a long series of interlocking corridors to the admissions office at the front of the hospital. A flat-chested woman with a faded blond rinse greeted me angrily.
“You should have come here as soon as you arrived,‘’ she snapped.
I peered at the name badge that doubled the size of her left breast. “You should hand out little leaflets at the emergency entrance telling people your policies. I’m not a mind reader, Mrs. Kirkland.”
“I don’t know anything about that girl-her age, her history, who to contact in case of any problems-”
“Stop the soundtrack. I’m here. I’ve contacted her physician and her family, but in the meantime, I’ll answer any questions that I can.”
The nurse’s duties weren’t pressing enough to keep her from a promising daytime soap. She leaned against the doorframe, blatantly eavesdropping. Mrs. Kirkland gave her a triumphant glance. She played better to an audience.
“We assumed here that she was with Canary and Bidwell-we have a preferred-provider arrangement with them and Carol Esterhazy phoned in the emergency. But when I called her back to get this girl’s Social Security number, I learned she doesn’t work for the plant. She’s some Mexican girl who got sick on the premises. We do not run a charity ward here. We’re going to have to move this girl to a public hospital.”
I could feel my head vibrating with rage. “Do you know anything about Illinois public-health law? I do-and it says you cannot deny emergency treatment because you think the person can’t pay. Not only that-every hospital in this state is required by law to look after a woman giving birth. I’m an attorney and I’ll be glad to send you the exact text with your subpoena for malpractice if anything happens to Mrs. Hernandez because you denied treatment.”
They’re waiting to find out if we want to move her,“ she said, her mouth set in a thin line.
“You mean they’re not treating her?” I thought the top of my head would come off and it was all I could do to keep from seizing her and smashing her face. “You get me to the head of this place. Now.”
The level of my fury shook her. Or the threat of legal action. “No, no-they’re working on her. They are. But if they don’t have to move her they’ll put her in a more permanent bed. That’s all.”
“Well, you give them a little phone call and tell them she’ll be moved if Dr. Tregiere thinks it advisable. And not until then.”
The thin line of her lips disappeared completely. “You’re going to have to talk to Mr. Humphries.” She stood with a sharp gesture meant to be intimidating, but it only made her look like a malevolent sparrow attacking a bread crumb. She hopped down a short corridor to my right and disappeared behind a heavy door.
My nurse-guide chose this moment to leave. Whoever Mr. Humphries was, she didn’t want him to catch her lounging during working
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