doper patients get creative all the time, and insulin goes right into
the skin. Little pinprick like that can heal really quickly.”
“Have you mentioned your suspicions to Stephanie?”
He nodded. “Sure I did, but she’s still hopped up on something
esoteric. Between you and me, I didn’t get the feeling she wanted to
hear it. Not that it matters to me personally. I’m off the
case-quits, vamoose. Out of here, as a matter of fact.”
“Leaving the hospital?”
“You bet. One more month, then off for quieter pastures. I need the
time I have left to wrap up my own cases. It’s gonna be a messlots of
angry families. So the last thing I want to do is muck around in Chuck
Jones’s family affairs when there’s nothing I can do about it
anyway.”
“Because it’s his family?”
He shook his head. “It would be nice to say yup, that’s it, the whole
thing’s politics. But actually, it’s the case itself. She could be
anyones’ granddaughter and we’d still be spitting into the wind because
we have no facts. Just look at you and me, right here. You know
what’s going on; I know what’s going on; Stephanie used to know what
was going on until she got all horny about the hypoglycemia. But
knowing doesn’t mean a thing, legally, does it? Cause we can’t do
anything. That’s what I hate about abuse cases-someone accuses
parents; they deny it, walk away or just ask for another doc.
And even if you could prove something was going on, you’d get into a
circus of lawyers, paperwork, years in court, dragging our reputations
through the mud. Meantime the kid’s a basket case and you couldn’t
even get a restraining order.”
“Sounds like you’ve had experience.”
“My wife’s a county social worker. The system’s so overloaded, even
kids with broken bones aren’t considered a priority anymore.
But it’s the same all o”er-I had a case back in Texas, diabetic kid.
The mother was witholding insulin and we still had a hell of a time
keeping the kid safe. And she was a nurse. Top O.R. gal.”
“Speaking of nurses,” I said, “what do you think of Cassie’s primary
R.N.?”
“Who’s that? Oh, yeah, Vicki. I think Vicki’s a cranky bitch but
generally real good at what she does-” The droopy eyes perked.
“Her? Shit, I never thought about that, but that doesn’t make sense,
does it? Till this last seizure, the problems started at home?”
“Vicki visited the home, but only a couple of times. Not enough to do
all the damage.”
“Besides,” he said, “it’s always the mother, isn’t it, these
Munchausens? And this one’s strange-at least in my uneducated
opinion.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know. She’s just too damned nice. Especially considering how
inept we’ve been diagnosing her kid. That were me, I’d be pissed,
demanding action. But she keeps smiling. Smiles too much for my
taste. Hi, Doctor, how are you, Doctor?” Never trust a smiler, Al.
I was married to one the first time. Those white teeth were always
hiding something-you can probably give me all the psychodynamics behind
it, right?”
I shrugged and said, “Perfect world.”
He laughed. “Lot of good you are.”
I said, Any impressions of the father?”
“Never met him. Why? Is he strange too?”
“I wouldn’t say strange. He’s just not what you’d expect of Chuck
Jones’s son. Beard, earring. Doesn’t seem to have much affection for
the hospital.”
“Well, at least he and Chuck have something in common. .
Far as I’m concerned the case is a loser and I’m tired of losing.
That’s why I punted to you. And now you’re telling me you’ve got
squat.
Too bad.” He retrieved the hammer, tossed it, caught it, used it to
drum the top of the table.
I said, “Would hypoglycemia explain any of Cassie’s earlier
symptoms?”
“Maybe the diarrhea. But she also had fevers, so there was probably
some kind of infectious process going on. In terms of the breathing
problems, it’s also possible. Mess with the metabolism, anything’s
possible.”
He picked up his stethoscope and looked at his watch. “Got work to
do.
Some of the kids out there, this’ll be the last time I see them.”