IV lines snaked down from clusters of bottles above her head.
“No question,” Ben said.
“We’ve gotten acid-fast bacilli from everyplace we’ve tried: stomach washings, blood, evena bronchial biopsy. It’s TB all right.”
“Any idea of the epidemiology of the case?” Marissa asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Ben said.
“Some interesting facts have turned up.
Apparently she visited Thailand about a year ago and stayed there for several weeks. That might be a factor. But more important, we’ve picked up a heretofore unrecognized immunodeficiency condition. The blood boys are working on it. So far it’s thought to be secondary to an undefined collagen disease. A combination of the travel and her depressed immune response could be the explanation.”
“Have you been able to talk to her at all?” Marissa asked.
“Nope,” Ben said.
“She was comatose when she was brought in. Probably got some brain abscesses. We haven’t felt it worth the risk to take her to the NMR or the CAT scan.”
Marissa absently flipped through the thick chart. Despite these reasonable explanations of the patient’s condition, she had a feeling that Evelyn Welles’ TB could be related to the TB salpingitis cases. As Dubchek had suggested, maybe it was her age and social status.
Has much of a GYN history been obtained?” Marissa asked.
“Not much,” Ben admitted.
“In view of her overwhelming infection, parts of the work-up have been left superficial. What we got on systems review, we got from the husband.”
“Do you know if she’s ever been seen at the Women’s Clinic in Cambridge?” Marissa asked.
“Sure don’t,” Ben said.
“But I’ll be happy to ask the husband when he returns. He comes in every night around ten.”
If she has been seen at the clinic, it would be great if you could ask the husband to get a copy of her record,” Marissa said.
“And one other thing. Could you manage to do a smear of her vaginal secretions to see if there are any TB organisms there as well?”
“Sure,” Ben said with a shrug of his narrow shoulders.
Marissa paid the taxi driver while sitting in the backseat, shoving the money through the Plexiglas divider. It was dark and raining harder now than it had been earlier so that when she emerged from the cab, she ran in an effort to keep from getting soaked.
Inside her house she took off her damp coat and hung it in the laundry room. Avoiding the kitchen, she went directly to her study. Although she hadn’t eaten all day, she wasn’t the least bit hungry. And though she was exhausted, she wasn’t about to sleep. The visit to the hospital and the plight of Evelyn Welles had renewed her terror as much as it had reawakened her curiosity.
“It’s almost nine,” Robert said, surprising Marissa by his presence.
She had not heard him. He was standing in the doorway, comfortably dressed, arms crossed. His tone and expression reflected his usual irritation of late, “I’m perfectly aware of the time,” Marissa said as she sat down and turned on her reading lamp.
“You could have called,” Robert said.
“The last I saw of you was when you jumped out of the car in front of the Science Museum. I was about to call the police.”
“Your concern is touching,” Marissa said. She knew she was being confrontational, but she couldn’t help it.
“In case you are interested, I’m not pregnant.”
“I guess I didn’t expect you’d be,” Robert said, his voice softening. He shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, no one can fault us
L31 for not trying. Unfortunately it’s another ten thousand dollars down the drain.”
“Give me strength!” Marissa whispered to herself “Are you hungry?” Robert asked.
“I’m famished. What about going out for some dinner Maybe it will do us some good. After all, we should celebrate your legal victory. I know it doesn’t make up for your not being pregnant, but at least it’s something.”
“Why don’t you go by yourself,” Marissa said. She was in no mood to celebrate. Besides, she was certain her “legal victory,” as he put it, was nothing but a clever cover-up. She also wanted to lash back at his reference to the ten thousand dollars. But she didn’t have the strength to quarrel.