Faces turned. I realized I was closest to the exit, got up and shut
the door.
“Okay,” said Afro. “The first order of business is a moment of silence
for our colleague Dr. Laurence Ashmore, so if you could all please
rise….
Everyone stood. Heads drooped. A long minute passed.
Afro said, “Okay, please be seated.” Walking to the board, he picked
up a piece of chalk and wrote: AGENDA 1. ASHMORE MEMORIAL 2.
3.
4….?
Stepping away from the board, he said, “Is there someone who wants to
say a few words about Dr. Ashmore?”
Silence.
“let me say, then, that I know I speak for all of us in condemning the
brutality of what happened to larry. And in offering our deepest
sympathy to his family. In lieu of flowers, I propose we get together
a fund and donate it to an organization of the family’s choice.
Or our choice, if it would be too disruptive to ask the family at this
point. We can decide now, or at a later date, depending on what people
feel. Anyone care to comment?”
A short-haired woman in the third row said, “How about the Poison
Control Center? He was a toxicologist.”
“Poison Control Center sounds good,” said Afro. Anyone second that?”
A hand rose in the middle of the room.
“Thanks, Barb. So moved. Anyone know the family? To inform them of
our plan?”
No response.
He looked at the woman who’d made the suggestion. “Barb, would you be
in charge of collecting the funds?”
She nodded.
All right, people, bring your donations to Barb Loman’s office in
Rheumatology and we’ll see that the Poison Control Center gets the
money, posthaste. Anything more along those lines?”
“Data,” said someone. As in, we don’t have any.”
“Could you stand and clarify, Greg?” said Afro.
A stocky, bearded man in a checked shirt and wide, floral, retro tie
rose. I thought I remembered him, as a resident, without the beard.
An Italian name.
m saying, John, is that security stinks around here.
What happened to him could have happened to any of us, and since I
certainly don’t think any deliberate attempt was made to be
exclusionary.”
“Well,” said the ponytailed woman, standing again, “was anyone else
other than physicians informed?”
Afro smiled. “This was an ad hoc medical staff meeting, Elaine, so
it’s only natural that physicians would-” “Don’t you think the rest of
the staff cares, John?” it’s our lives on the line we deserve to have
full access to information.said Afro. “I-” Exactly what happened, the
progress of the police’s investigation, as well as any measures we can
take to assure our safety.”
“There aren’t any!” a bespectacled black man across the room called
out. “Not unless the administration makes a real commitment to genuine
security-twenty-fuurhour guards at every entrance to the lot and at
each and every stairwell.”
“That means money, Hank,” said the bearded man. “Good luck.”
A ponytailed woman with dishwater hair got up.
“The money would be available, Greg,” she said, “if they got their
priorities straight. What we don’t need are more paramilitary types
obstructing our patients in the halls. What we do need is exactly what
you and Hank just said: genuine security, including selfdefense
classes, karate, Mace, personal training, whatever. Especially for
female staff. The nurses deal with this kind of threat every single
day, coming from across the street. Especially the night shift-you
know how a couple of them were beat up, and-” “I know that-” the open
lots have no security at all. As all of us are learning, from direct
experience. I drove in at five this morning on an emergency call, and
let me tell you, it felt scary, people. I also have to say I think it
was a serious mistake to limit this meeting to physicians.
This is no time for elitism. There are nurses and ancillary staff out
there suffering just like we are, working for the same goals. We
should be getting together, empowering each other, not
fractionating.”
No one spoke.
The ponytailed woman looked around the auditorium and sat down.
Afro said, “Thank you, Elaine, your point is well taken. Though
“Western Peds women are terrzjld! Wake up, people! Everyone needs to