All at once she became aware of her utter dependency and vulnerability. She was alone in a private room with an IV running, blindfolded and sedated.
There was no way for her even to know when someone came into the room.
There was no way for her to defend herself.
Cassi wanted to scream for help, but she was paralyzed with fear. She drew herself up into a ball. Seconds passed, then minutes. Eventually Cassi remembered the call button. Ever so slowly she inched her hand in its direction, half expecting her fingers to encounter some unknown enemy. When she touched the plastic cylinder, she pressed the button, holding it down with her thumb.
No one came. It seemed as if she had been waiting for an eternity. She let the button out and pushed it again several more times, praying for the nurse to hurry. At any second she expected something terrible to happen.
She didn’t know what, just something terrible.
“What is it?” asked the nurse curtly, pulling Cassi’s hand away from the call button. “You only have to ring once, and we’ll come as soon as we can. You have to remember there are a lot of patients on this floor and most are sicker than you are.”
“I want to change rooms,” said Cassi. “I want to go back to a semiprivate.”
“Cassi,” said the nurse with exasperation. “It’s late at night.
“I don’t want to be alone!” shouted Cassi.
“All right, Cassi. Calm down. As soon as we finish our medication records, I’ll see what I can do.”
“I want to talk to my doctor,” said Cassi.
“Cassi, you do know what time it is, don’t you?”
“I don’t care. I want to talk with my doctor.”
“All right. I’ll put in a call if you promise to lie still.”
Cassie allowed the nurse to straighten her legs.
“There, that must feel better. Now you relax and I’ll call Dr. Obermeyer.”
By the time the nurse left, Cassi’s panic had lessened. She realized she was behaving irrationally. She was acting worse than her own patients.
Thinking of Clarkson Two reminded her of Joan. She was the one person who would understand and wouldn’t be angry at being awakened. Groping with her hand, Cassi found the phone and lifted it onto her stomach. With the receiver propped up between her shoulder and the pillow, she got the hospital operator. After Cassi explained who she was, the operator put the call through to Dr. Widiker.
The phone rang for a while, and Cassi began to worry that Joan had a late date. She was about to hang up when Joan answered.
“Oh, thank God,” said Cassi. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
“Cassi, what’s the matter?”
“I’m terrified, Joan.”
“What are you terrified of?”
Cassi paused. With Joan on the line, she realized exactly how silly her fears were. Thomas was the most respected cardiac surgeon in the city.
“Has it something to do with Robert?” asked Joan.
“Partly,” Cassi admitted.
“Cassi, listen to me,” said Joan. “It’s natural you’re upset. Your best friend has just died and you’ve undergone surgery. Your eyes are bandaged. You mustn’t let your imagination run riot. Ask the nurse for a sleeping pill.”
“I’ve already had a lot of drugs,” said Cassi.
“Either you had too little or the wrong kind. Don’t try to be a hero. Do you want me to call Dr. Obermeyer?”
“No.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Do you know if Robert Seibert was cyanotic when he was found or if there was evidence he convulsed?”
“Cassi, I don’t know! And it’s not the sort of thing you should be torturing yourself over. He’s dead. That’s more than enough for you to deal with right now.”
“I guess you’re right,” said Cassi. “Just a minute, Joan. Someone’s here.”
“It’s Miss Randall,” said the nurse. “Dr. Obermeyer is trying to call you.”
Cassi thanked Joan and hung up. The receiver was barely back in the cradle when it rang again.
“Cassi,” said Dr. Obermeyer, “I got a call from the nursing office staff that you were upset. I don’t know how to convince you that everything is fine. Your surgery went extremely well. I’d expected to find the usual diabetic pathology but I didn’t. You should feel relieved.”