“It’s uncanny how we think alike,” Wendy said.
“Now that we can call up individual records, what do you think is the best way to proceed?” Marissa asked.
“It’s simple in theory,” Wendy said.
“What we need is that diagnostic code the woman up in medical records said they had for granulornatous blockage of the fallopian tubes. We just have to find it. I’m hoping we’ll come across it in my chart or yours.
It will appear as some kind of alphanumeric designator.”
“We can use Rebecca Ziegler’s record as well,” Marissa said.
She got out the dead woman’s social security number.
They scanned Wendy’s entire record, paying particular attention to the page containing the pathology of her fallopian tube biopsy. By the time they’d reached the final page, they’d come across a number of possible candidates for the code designator.
Marissa jotted them down.
“Content-wise, there’s nothing in here that I didn’t already know,” Wendy said.
“At least nothing that would tempt me to jump out the window. Let’s go on to yours.”
“Try Rebecca’s first,” Marissa suggested. She handed Wendy the social security number.
Wendy entered the number and executed. Instantly the computer responded by flashing “no file found.”
“I was afraid of that,” Marissa said.
“All right, go to mine.”
She recited her social security number and Wendy entered it.
Soon Marissa’s record was on the screen.
Wendy scrolled directly to the pathology page. Reading carefully, they spotted several notations they had also taken from Wendy’s records.
“That’s curious,” Wendy said.
“Check out the microscopic.”
Marissa began to read it again.
“Do you notice anything strange?”
“I don’t think so,” Marissa said.
“What caught your eye?”
“Let’s see if you see it,” Wendy said. Quickly she went back into her own record and called up her pathology page.
“Read the microscopic!”
Marissa did as she was told.
“Okay,” she said when she’d finished.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Still don’t see it?” Wendy questioned.
“Just a second.” She cleared her record and went back to Marissa’s pathology page.
“Read again,” she suggested.
When Marissa was finished, she looked at her friend.
“I get it now,” she said.
“They’re exactly the same. Word for word, verbatim.”
“Exactly,” Wendy said, “Do you think that’s weird?”
Marissa thought for a moment.
“No, I guess I don’t,” she said.
“These reports were undoubtedly dictated. Doctors frequently dictate from rote when they are dictating similar cases. I’m sure you’ve heard surgeons dictating. Unless there’s a complication, their dictations; come out verbatim all the time. I did it myself when I was on surgery. All it suggests to me is that there are more cases here at the Women’s Clinic: something we’ve suspected all along.”
Wendy shrugged.
“Maybe you’re right,” she said.
“It just seemed odd at first. Anyway, let’s get back to what we were doing. I’ll try running a search using some of these possible code designators that we’ve found in both our charts.”
Going back to a system utility menu, Wendy began trying the various letter and number combinations Marissa had written down. The third one resulted in a list of eighteen numbers that appeared to be social security numbers.
“This looks very promising,” Wendy said as she prepared to print out the list.
The only sound in the ultrasound room had been the barely audible click of the keyboard keys, but just as Wendy was about to push the Print key, Marissa heard the sound of a door opemng not too far away.
“Wendy!” she whispered.
“Did you hear that?”
Wendy responded by turning off both the computer terminal and the light. They were plunged into utter darkness.
For several minutes both terrified women strained their ears to pick up the slightest sound. All their previous fears had congealed into one moment. They held their breath. In the far distance they heard the muffled sound of a refrigerant compressor switching on in a lab. As intently as they were listening, they even heard a bus go by on Mt. Auburn Street, almost a block away.
Groping soundlessly, they found each other’s hands for a modicum of comfort and held on. Five minutes crawled by.
Finally Wendy spoke in a barely audible whisper: “Are you sure you heard a door?”