Coma by Robin Cook. Part five

“Well, it is indeed easy to understand Harris’s reaction to you, Miss Wheeler. As he said, you lack respect for people as well as institutions. But it is a reflection of youth in general today. They believe their very existence alone entitles them to all the luxuries of society, education being one of them.”

“Education is more than a luxury; it is a responsibility that society owes to itself.”

“Society undoubtedly has a responsibility to itself but not to individual students, not to youth just because they are youth. Education is a luxury in that it is expensive beyond belief and the major burden, particularly in medicine, falls on the public at large, the workingman. The students themselves pay a small amount of the money needed. Not only does it cost an enormous amount of money to have you here, Miss Wheeler, but your being here means that you are economically unproductive. Hence the cost to society automatically doubles. And besides, your being a woman means that your future per-hour productivity …”

“Oh save me,” said Susan sarcastically, standing up. “I’ve heard about as much bullshit as I can stand.”

“Stay put, young lady,” shouted McLeary, furious. He too stood up.

Susan tried to look behind the face of the man trembling with anger in front of her. She thought about Bellows’s suggestion relative to sexuality explaining Harris’s behavior. She was hard put to believe that was a factor in McLeary’s performance. Once again she was facing very irregular behavior, to say the least. The man was breathing rapidly, his chest heaving. She had apparently and unknowingly challenged the man. But how? In what capacity? She had no idea. Susan debated whether she should just walk out. A mixture of curiosity and respect for the apparent irrationality of McLeary’s actions made her stay. She sat down, watching McLeary, who now couldn’t decide what to do. He too sat down and began nervously playing with an ashtray. Susan sat motionless. She wouldn’t have been surprised if the man cried.

She heard the outer office door opening. Voices drifted into the inner office. Then the inner office door opened. Without being announced or knocking, an energetic individual entered. He appeared like a businessman, in a smartly tailored blue suit. Reminding Susan of Stark’s attire, a silk handkerchief peeked out of his left breast pocket. His hair was carefully combed and frozen with a ruler-straight part on the left side. There was a definite aura of authority about the man; he exuded an air of assurance at handling a wide spectrum of problems.

“Thank you for your call, Donald,” said Oren.

Then he faced Susan condescendingly.

“So this is the infamous Susan Wheeler. Miss Wheeler, you have been causing a great commotion in this hospital. Are you aware of that?”

“No, I haven’t been aware of that.”

Oren leaned back on McLeary’s desk, folding his arms in a professional fashion.

“Out of curiosity, Miss Wheeler, let me ask you a rather simple question. What do you think is the major goal of this institution?”

“Caring for the sick.”

“Good. At least we agree in general. But I must add a crucial phrase to your answer. We are caring for the sick of this community. That might sound redundant to you because obviously we are not caring for the sick of Westchester County, New York. Yet this is an extremely important distinction because it underlines our responsibility to the people right here in Boston. As a direct corollary, anything that could interrupt or otherwise disturb this relationship to the community would, in effect, negate our primary mission. Now this may sound very … what should I say … irrelevant to you. But quite the contrary. I have been receiving complaints about you over the last few days which have grown from being irritated to intolerable. Apparently you are bent on specifically disrupting our carefully maintained relationship with the community.”

Susan felt color rising in her cheeks. Oren’s condescending manner began to irritate her.

“I suppose bringing to the forefront of everyone’s awareness that the chances of becoming a vegetable, of losing one’s brain, is very high, intolerably high, by being a patient here would ruin the reputation of the hospital.”

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