acknowledged being sick, he wasn’t about to admit it to anyone else.
From the drawer of his Narcomed III anesthesia machine, Jeffrey got out a small-gauge intravenous scalp needle and an infusion setup. He pulled a bottle of Ringer’s Lactate IV fluid down from the shelf and snapped off the cover over the rubber port. With a decisive shove, he pushed the IV tubing into the bottle and hung the bottle up on the IV stand over the anesthesia machine. He ran fluid through the tubing until it was free of air bubbles, then he closed the plastic stopcock.
Jeffrey had only started IVs on himself a couple of times, but he was practiced enough in the procedure to be adept. Using his teeth to hold one end of the tourniquet, he secured it around his bicep and watched as his veins began to distend.
What Jeffrey had in mind was a trick that he’d learned as a resident. Back then, he and his colleagues, especially the surgical residents, refused to take any sick time for fear they’d lose the competitive edge. If they got the flu or symptoms like the ones Jeffrey was now experiencing, they would simply take time out to run in a liter of IV fluid. The results were almost guaranteed, suggesting most flu symptoms were due to dehydration. With a liter of Ringer’s Lactate coursing through your veins, it was hard not to feel better. It had been ages since Jeffrey had last resorted to an IV. He only hoped the efficacy would be as strong as it had been when he’d been a resident. Now forty-two, he found it hard to believe that last time he had been almost twenty years younger.
Jeffrey was about to push the needle in when the curtain to the alcove was pulled aside. Jeffrey looked up into the surprised face of Regina Vinson, one of the evening nurses.
“Oh!” Regina exclaimed. “Excuse me.”
“No problem,” Jeffrey started to say, but Regina was gone as quickly as she had appeared. As long as she’d inadvertently caught him in the act, Jeffrey had half a mind to ask her to lend a hand by attaching the IV to the scalp needle once he got it into the vein. Reaching out, he pulled back the curtain in hopes of catching her, but Regina was already far down the crowded hall. He let the curtain fall back into place. He was just as well off without her.
Once the IV tubing was attached, he opened the stopcock. Almost at once he felt the cool sensation of the fluid as it flowed rapidly into the arm. By the time most of the bottle had run in, Jeffrey’s upper arm was cool to the touch. After he pulled out
the IV needle, he put an alcohol swab over the site and bent his elbow to hold it in place. He disposed of the IV paraphernalia in the wastebasket, then stood up. He waited for a moment to see how he felt. The light-headedness and headache were totally gone. So was the nausea. Pleased with the speedy results, Jeffrey pulled open the curtain and headed back to the locker room. Only his colon still troubled him.
The evening shift had now taken over and the day shift was in the process of leaving. The locker room was full of cheerful people. Most of the showers were occupied. First Jeffrey used the toilet. Then he got out his paregoric and took another hefty swig. He shuddered at the taste and wondered what made it so bitter. He tossed the now empty bottle into the wastebasket. Then he took a second shower and put on another set of clean scrub clothes.
When he walked out into the surgical lounge he almost felt human. He intended to sit down for a half hour or so and read the paper but before he had a chance his beeper went off. He recognized the number. It was delivery.
“Mrs. Owen is asking for you,” Monica Carver told him when he phoned.
“How is she doing?” Jeffrey asked.
“Just fine,” Monica said. “She’s a little apprehensive, but she hasn’t even asked for analgesia even though her contractions are now coming frequently.