Reading the charts also gave Marissa a better clinical picture of the illness she was dealing with. Apparently it began rather suddenly, with severe headaches, muscle pain and high fever. Then the patients experienced some combination of abdominal pain, diarrhea, vomiting, sore throat, cough and chest pain. A shiver went down Marissa’s spine as she thought about having been exposed to the disease.
Marissa rubbed her eyes. They felt gritty from lack of sleep. It was time to visit the rest of the patients whether she wanted to or not.
There were a lot of gaps, particularly in activities of each patient in the days directly preceding their illness.
She started with the medical secretary, who was located in a room next to Dr. Richter’s in the ICU, and then worked her way through to the last patient to be admitted. Before seeing each case, she carefully dressed in full protective clothing. All the patients were seriously ill, and none felt much like talking. Still, Marissa went through her list of questions, concentrating on whether each patient was acquainted with any of the other people who were di. The answer was always no, except that each one knew Dr. Richter, and all were members of the Richter Clinic health plan! The answer was so obvious she was surprised that no one seemed to have spotted it. Dr. Richter might have spread the disease himself since he might even have been in contact with the medical secretary. She asked the ward clerk to call for all the patients’ clinic outpatient records.
While she was waiting, Dr. Navarre called. “I’m afraid we have another case,” he said. “He’s one of the lab techs here at the clinic. He’s in the emergency room. Do you want to come down?”
“Is he isolated?” asked Marissa.
“As well as we can do it down here,” said Dr. Navarre. “We’re preparing an isolation wing upstairs on the fifth floor. We will move all the cases there the moment it is ready.”
“The sooner the better,” said Marissa. “For the time being, I recommend that all nonessential lab work be postponed.”
“That’s okay by me,” said Dr. Navarre. “What about this boy down here? Do you want to see him?”
“I’m on my way,” said Marissa.
En route to the ER, Marissa could not shake the feeling that they were on the brink of a major epidemic. Concerning the lab tech, there were two equally disturbing possibilities: the first was that the fellow had contracted the illness in the same fashion as the others, i.e., from some active source of deadly virus in the Richter Clinic; the second, more probable in Marissa’s estimation, was that the lab tech had been exposed to the agent from handling infected material from the existing cases.
The ER personnel had placed the new patient in one of the psychiatric cubicles. There was a Do Not Enter sign on the door. Marissa read the technician’s chart. He was a twenty-four-year-old male by the name of Alan Moyers. His temperature was 103.4. After donning protective gown, mask, hat, gloves and booties, Marissa entered the tiny room. The patient stared at her with glazed eyes.
“I understand you’re not feeling too well,” said Marissa.
“I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck,” said Alan. “I’ve never felt this bad, even when I had the flu last year.”
“What was the first thing you noticed?”
“The headache,” said Alan. He tapped his fingers against the sides of his forehead. “Right here is where I feel the pain. It’s awful. Can you give me something for it?”
“What about chills?”
“Yeah, after the headache began, I started to get them.”
“Has anything abnormal happened to you in the lab in the last week or so?”
“Like what?” asked Alan, closing his eyes. “I did win the pool on the last Lakers game.”
“I’m more interested in something professional. Were you bitten by any animals?”
“Nope. I never handle any animals. What’s wrong with me?”
“How about Dr. Richter? Do you know him?”
“Sure. Everybody knows Dr. Richter. Oh, I remember something. I stuck myself with a vacu-container needle. That never happened to me before.”
“Do you remember the patient’s name on the vacu-container?”