“Absolutely,” Wendy said.
“United we stand.”
Marissa smiled. She, could hardly wait for morning.
March 29, 1990
9:30 A.M.
Struggling with their umbrellas in the wind, Marissa and Wendy passed into the courtyard of the Women’s Clinic.
Entering the front door, they shook water from their coats.
Their rain-slicked hair was plastered to their foreheads.
“Do you know where the medical records department is?”
Marissa asked Wendy.
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Wendy said.
“I’ll ask.”
While Marissa fought to close her umbrella, which had turned inside out in the wind, Wendy made her inquiries at the information booth. She motioned for Marissa to follow her to the elevators.
“Sixth floor,” she said when Marissa joined her.
“I should have guessed,” Marissa said.
“Rebecca Ziegler jumped from the sixth floor right after reading her records.”
“Makes you wonder what she could have read.”
Marissa nodded.
Once on the sixth floor, it was easy to find the department. The clatter of typewriters could be heard immediately outside the elevators. Marissa was relieved it was in the opposite direction from Linda Moore’s office. For the moment, Marissa did not want to run into someone she knew.
There was no mistaking the medical records department. Dozens of file cabinets lined the room. There were three secretaries with headphones, typing dictation. A woman occupying the desk to the right of the entrance greeted Marissa and Wendy.
“Can I help you?” she asked. The woman, who was about fifty, Marissa guessed, had a name tag: Helen Solano, Medical Records Librarian.
In front of her was a computer terminal.
“I’m Dr. Blumenthal,” Marissa said professionally.
“And this is Dr. Wilson.”
Wendy nodded. Mrs. Solano smiled.
“We have a question for you,” Wendy said.
“We’re curious if the Women’s Clinic record system is such that cases of a specific diagnosis such as fallopian tube blockage can be printed out.”
“Absolutely,” Mrs. Solano said.
“How about granulomatous blockage?” Marissa asked.
“That specific category I’m not certain of,” Mrs. Solano said.
“I’d have to look it up in our diagnostic code. Let me see.” She swiveled in her chair to face a bookcase filled with looseleaf manuals. She pulled one out and began flipping through.
“We do have a code for granulomatous infections of the fallopian tubes,” Mrs. Solano said, glancing up from the manual.
“Wonderful,” Marissa said with a smile.
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, we’d like to get a printout with that diagnosis.”
“No trouble at all,” Mrs. Solano said.
Marissa and Wendy exchanged a satisfied glance.
“Where is your authorization requisition?” Mrs. Solano asked.
“We didn’t think we needed one for research purposes,” Wendy said.
“You need one for any purpose,” Mrs. Solano explained.
“Fine,” Marissa said.
“Who do we see to get the proper authorization?”
“There is only one person who can issue such a requisition,” Mrs. Solano said.
“And that is Dr. Wingate, the director of the clinic.”
Back at the elevators, Marissa shook her head at Wendy.
“Damn,” she said.
“I thought we were home free when she told us they had the granulomatous diagnostic category.”
“Me too,” Wendy said.
“But now I’m thinking that your husband was right. I don’t think we’ll be able to persuade Wingate to give us the authorization.”
“Let’s not get discouraged so soon,” Marissa said as they boarded the elevator.
Dr. Wingate’s offices were on the second floor. He had one office as the director of the clinic and another as director of the in-vitro fertilization unit. Marissa and Wendy went to the first but were directed to the second. Dr. Wingate, they learned, was busy in the lab.
“I’ll tell the doctor that you are here,” the receptionist said.
Marissa and Wendy sat down.
“It’s nice not to be here for another procedure,” Wendy whispered. Marissa smiled in agreement.
“Dr. Wingate can see you now,” the receptionist called out about a half hour later. She directed them down a long hall to the third door on the right.
Wendy knocked, Dr. Wingate told them to come in.
“Well, well!” he said, standing up from a lab bench and a microscope. Save for a desk and a couple of file cabinets, the room looked more like a lab than an office.