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Brain by Robin Cook. Chapter 8, 9

Martin was stunned. He was not prepared to face a charge of heresy from Goldblatt. He’d expected that only from some of the marginally competent radiologists of whom Philips knew there were far too many.

“You have a promising future,” continued Goldblatt, “and I’d like to help you keep it. I’m also committed to preserving the integrity of the department here at the Medical Center. It’s my feeling that you should alter your research proclivities in a more acceptable direction. In any case, you may not X-ray any more cadavers without authorization. That shouldn’t have to be said.”

Philips had a sudden insight. Mannerheim must have gotten to Goldblatt. There was no other explanation. But Mannerheim was a prima donna who didn’t like to share the spotlight with anyone. Why was he now working with Goldblatt and probably Drake? It didn’t make sense.

“One last point,” said Goldblatt, forming a steeple with his fingers. “It has been brought to my attention that you have formed some sort of liaison with one of the residents. I do not think the department can condone this kind of fraternization.”

Philips abruptly stood up, his eyes narrowed, the muscles of his face tense. “Unless professional performance is compromised,” he said slowly, “my personal life is none of the department’s business.”

He turned and walked out the office. Goldblatt called after him, saying something about the department’s image, but Philips did not stop.

He passed Helen without a glance, although she stood up, message pad in her hand. He slammed his door, sat down in front of the alternator and picked up his microphone. It was best to work and allow a little time to pass before confronting his feelings. The phone rang and he ignored it. Helen answered it and buzzed. Philips went to the door and in pantomime asked Helen who it was. Dr. Travis, she said.

Travis told Martin that there was definitely no Lynn Anne Lucas at New York Medical Center. He’d searched the hospital, investigating every conceivable way the transfer could have been screwed up. He then asked Philips what he’d learned from the Admitting department.

“Not much,” said Philips lamely. He was embarrassed to say he had not checked after putting Travis to so much effort. As soon as he hung up he called Admitting. Persistence paid off and finally he got to speak with the woman in charge of discharges and transfers. He asked her how a patient could leave the hospital in the middle of the night.

“Patients are not prisoners,” said Admitting. “Was the patient admitted through the ER?”

“Yes,” said Philips.

“Well, that’s common,” said the woman. “Often ER admissions are transferred after they have been stabilized, if the private physician does not have privileges here.”

Philips grunted understanding, then asked for the details concerning Lynn Anne Lucas. Since the data-processing computer used by Admissions was keyed by unit number or date of birth, the woman said she’d have to get the unit number from the ER record before she could get any information. She’d call back as soon as she could.

Martin tried to go back to dictating, but it was difficult to concentrate. Right in front of his nose were Collins’ and McCarthy’s hospital charts. He remembered Denise’s comment about the Pap smears. What he knew about gynecology in general and Pap smears in particular was negligible. Putting on his long white coat and taking Katherine Collins’ chart, Philips left his office. Passing Helen, he told her he’d be back shortly and instructed her to page him only in an emergency.

The first step was the library. Passing several outpatients in foul-weather gear, Philips decided to use the tunnel. The new medical-school building was reached by taking the same right fork that Philips used to get to his apartment. It was just beyond the stairs that led up to the old medical school, which had been abandoned two years previously when the new facilities had been completed.

The old building was supposed to have been renovated to provide sorely needed space for the burgeoning clinical departments like radiology, but owing to enormous cost overruns, money had run out when the new school neared completion. After two years even a portion of the new building was still waiting for additional funding. So the old medical-school project had been indefinitely postponed and the clinical departments had to wait.

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Categories: Cook, Robin
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