“Robert!” laughed Cassi. “What on earth .
Robert bounced out of the bed dressed in his own pajamas and robe. “I happened to see you coming,” he said. Eyeing the flowers, he asked, “Are those for me?”
Cassi surrendered the small bouquet. Robert took the time to arrange them carefully in his water pitcher before placing them on the nightstand.
Glancing around the room, Cassi could see she wasn’t the first. There were a dozen bouquets blooming on every surface.
“Kinda looks like a funeral,” said Robert.
“I don’t want to hear that kind of humor,” said Cassi, giving him a hug. “There is no such thing as too many flowers. It means you have a lot of friends.” She settled down on the foot of the bed.
“I’ve never been a patient in a hospital,” said Robert, pulling up a chair as if he were the visitor. “I don’t like it. I feel so vulnerable.”
“You get used to it,” said Cassi. “Believe me, I’m a pro.”
“The real problem is that I know too much,” said Robert. “I can tell you, I’m terrified. I’ve convinced the anesthesiologist to double up on my sleep meds. Otherwise I know I’ll be up all night.”
“In a couple of days you’ll wonder why you were nervous.”
“It’s easy for you to say, dressed in street clothes.” Robert held up his wrist with its plastic name tag. “I’ve become a statistic.”
“Maybe it will make you feel better to know that your courage has prodded me into action. I’m being admitted tomorrow.”
Robert’s expression changed to one of compassion. “Now I feel foolish. Here I am worried sick over a couple of teeth while you face eye surgery.”
“Anesthesia is anesthesia,” said Cassi.
“I think you are doing the right thing,” said Robert. “And I have a feeling that your operation is going to be a hundred percent successful.”
“What about your own chances,” teased Cassi.
“Um … fifty-fifty,” said Robert, laughing. “Hey, I got something to show you.”
Robert stood up and went over to the nightstand. Picking up a folder, he joined Cassi on the edge of the bed. “With the help of the computer, I collated the data we have on the SSD cases. I found some interesting things. First of all, as you suggested, all of the patients were on IVs. In addition, over the past two years, the cases increasingly involved patients who were in stable physical condition. In other words, the deaths have become more unexpected.”
“Oh God,” said Cassi. “What else?”
“I played around for a while with the data, punching in all the parameters for our study except surgery. The computer spat out some other cases, including a patient by the name of Sam Stevens. He died unexpectedly during cardiac catheterization. He was retarded but in excellent physical condition.”
“Was he on IV?” asked Cassi.
“Yup,” said Robert.
They stared at each other for several minutes.
“Finally,” said Robert, “the computer indicated that there was a preponderance of males. Curiously enough, where the information was available, the computer pointed out an unusually high number of homosexuals!”
Cassi looked up from the papers to Robert’s friendly gaze. Homosexuality had never been mentioned between them, and Cassi felt a reluctance to discuss it.
“I went to pathology to visit you this morning,” she said, changing the subject. “I missed you, but I did find some of Jeoffry Washington’s slides. When I looked at the sections taken from the IV site, I found white precipitate along the inside of the vein. At first I thought it was artifact, but they were present on all but one of the sections. Do you think they might be significant?”
Robert pursed his lips. “No,” he said finally. “Doesn’t ring any bells. The only thing I can think of is that when calcium is inadvertently added to a bicarbonate solution, it causes a precipitation, but that would be in the IV bottle, not the vein. I suppose the precipitation could run into the vein, but it would be so apparent in the bottle that everyone would see it. Maybe I’ll have an idea when I look at the section. Meanwhile, enough of this morbid stuff. Tell me about the party last night. What did you wear?”