The attitude of this facility has, over the past three years, become one of, Why should you get health care just because you are sick? We intend to fight that policy.'
Zack glanced around the room and catalogued myriad reactions among the physicians, few, if any of them, seemed sympathetic, and none of them appeared very threatened or upset. Some were openly exchanging looks and gestures of disgust, and one was actually circling a finger about one ear. There are a few docs out there beating the bushes for a job because they thought the same thing, Iverson. Wilton Marshfield's warning against bucking the Ultramed system echoed in Zack's thoughts as he studied the sea of blank and disapproving expressions. Suzanne's, he noted, fell vaguely in the second group. Beaulieu, too, paused and looked about, but then he continued as if unperturbed. 'In addition to the charges outlined above, we shall document a progressive and unethical blurring of the distinction between medical suppliers and providers, to the point where the care of patients throughout and without this facility is being compromised. We have evidence to back up our position, and every day we acquire more. It is my hope that those on the medical staff who have information which will further substantiate our claims will come forward and present such information to me or to our attorney, Mr. Everett Perry. I assure you that all such disclosures will be kept in the strictest confidence.'
The man, for all of his 'crustiness, ' as the Judge had put it, had guts, Zack acknowledged. Again he scanned the room, guts, yes, but not a speck of visible support. 'Finally, ' Beaulieu read on, 'I would like to announce that I, personally, have initiated legal action against a member of this staff, as well — as against the administration of this hospital, who are, I believe, responsible for the slanderous, inaccurate, and highly damaging rumors regarding my personal and professional conduct. I call upon any physician who has knowledge of this matter to come forward. Again, I promise strictest confidence.
Remember, there but for the grace of almighty God go any one of you. 'I thank you for your patience, and would welcome your questions and comments.'
Not a hand was raised. Beaulieu nodded in a calm and dignified manner, and then returned to his seat, apparently unmindful of the many annoyed and angry expressions that were fixed on him. The staff meeting proceeded uneventfully. At the end of 'new business, ' Zack was formally introduced and welcomed with brief, measured applause. Sensing that some verbal acknowledgment of the greeting was called for, he stood up.
'Thank you all very much, ' he began. 'It feels great to be home again, and to be on the medical staff of the hospital in which I was born. As Dr. Norman noted in introducing me, in addition to my neurosurgical practice, I shall try to function as a medical neurologist until we are large enough, and lucky enough, to get one of our own. It is my hope to care for all those who need help in my area of expertise'-he glanced over at Guy Beaulieu-'regardless of their ability to pay. 'I would also like to thank our radiologists, Drs. Moore and Tucker, as well as my brother Frank, for their work in obtaining our CT scanner. It's a beautiful piece of equipment, and both radiologists have gone out of their way to become versed in its use. Sometime soon, the three of us plan to present some sort of workshop on the interpretation and limitations of the technique. 'Since my nearest backup is close to a hundred miles away, I'll be on twenty-four-hour call, except during my vacation, which is scheduled from August third through August fifth… three years from now. Thank you.'
There was laughter and applause from around the room. 'Oh, one more thing, ' Zack added as the reaction died away. 'I expected there might be some unusual problems arising from my decision to return and set up shop in the town where I was born and raised. So I'd like to make it perfectly clear that there is absolutely no truth to the rumor-started, I believe, by Dr. Blunt over there, who delivered me and was my pediatrician-that I won't go into the operating room without the one-eyed teddy bear I insisted on clinging to during his examinations.'
Suzanne, with Jason Mainwaring in tow, caught up with Zack in the corridor. 'Zack, hi, ' she said. 'Thanks for the laughs in there. Have you met Jason?'
'I think briefly, a few months ago, ' Zack said, shaking the surgeon's hand. 'Nice to see you again.'
'Same here, ' Mainwaring said, in a pronounced drawl. 'That was a cute little speech, Iverson. I was especially partial to the line about the teddy bear.'
'Thanks, ' Zack said, wondering if the man was being facetious. 'I even liked that other one. About your next vacation being so far away. You're a funny man.'
'Thanks again.'
'However, ' the surgeon continued, 'I would caution you against makin' any more inflammatory statements about this Beaulieu business until you know all the facts. Y'see, Iverson, I'm the staff member Beaulieu alluded to in there-the one he's suin'. And noble as you tried to sound in your little pronouncement there, you and Beaulieu aren't the only ones who do charity work. I operate on plenty of folks who can't pay, too. Zack was startled by the man's rudeness. 'Well, ' he said, 'I'm glad to hear that. I only hope they get their money's worth.'
'You know, ' Mainwaring countered, 'I've always heard that only the most arrogant and sadistic surgeons elect to spend their professional lives suckin' on brain…'
'Hey, guys, what is this? ' Suzanne cut in. 'This sounds like the sort of exchange you both should have put behind you when you climbed down from your tree houses and started high school. Jason, what's with you?
Were you attacked in your crib by a mad neurosurgeon or something?'
Mainwaring smiled stiffly. 'My apologies, Iverson, ' he said. He extended his hand, but shielded from Suzanne the hostility in.. his eyes was lcy. 'Hey, no big deal, Jason. No big deal.'
'Good. Well then, we'll have to see what we can do about drummin' up a little neurosurgical business for y'all.'
'Thanks.'
'Meanwhile, you might try to steer clear of politics around this place-at least until you've been here long enough to learn everyone's name.' He checked his gold Rolex. 'Suzanne, dear, I believe we still have time to complete our business. Nice to see you, Iverson. I'm sure you'll make the adjustment to this sleepy little place just fine.'
Without waiting for a response, he took Suzanne's arm and strode down the hallway. Andy O'Meara, red- cheeked, beer-bellied, and beaming, strolled among the tables of Gillie's Mountainside Tavern, shaking hands and exchanging slaps on the back with the twenty or so men enjoying their midday break in the smoky warmth. Over nearly twenty years he had come to know each and every one of them well, and was proud to call them his friends. 'Andy O, you old fart. Welcome back! '… 'Hey, it's Mighty Mick. Way to go, Andy. Way to go. We knew you'd beat it.'
First the cards and candy and flowers when he was in the hospital, and now this welcome back. They were a hell of a bunch. The very best. And at that moment, as far as Andy O'Meara was concerned, he was the luckiest man alive. Tomorrow would be Independence Day-the day for celebrating the birth of freedom. And this day was one for celebrating his own rebirth. 'Hey, Gillie, ' he called out, the lilt of a childhood in Kilkenny still coloring his speech. 'Suds around, on me.'
After three months of pain and worry, after more than a dozen trips to Manchester for radiation therapy, after sitting time and again in the doctor's office, waiting for the other shoe to fall, waiting for-the news that 'We can't get it all, ' he was back on the road, cured. The bowel cancer that had threatened his very existence was in some jar in the pathology department at Ultramed-Davis Hospital, and whatever evil cells had remained in his body had been burnt to hell by the amazing X-ray machines. The backseat and trunk of his green Chevy were once again filled with the boxes of shoes and boots and sneakers that he loved to lay out for the merchants along route 16, and the rhythm of his life had at last been restored. 'To the luck of the Irish, ' he proclaimed as he hoisted the frosted mug over his head. 'And to you, Andy O, ' Gillie responded. 'We're glad to have you back among the living.'
Andy O'Meara exchanged handshakes and hugs with each man in the place, and then set his half-filled tankard on the bar. It was his first frosty in more than twelve weeks, and with a full afternoon of calls ahead of him, there was no sense in putting his tolerance for the stuff to the test. He settled up with Gillie and stepped out of the dim, pine-paneled tavern, into the sparkling afternoon sunlight. He prided himself on never being late for a call, and Colson's Factory Outlet was nearly a thirty-minute drive through the mountains. He switched on the radio.
Kenny Rogers was admonishing him to know when to hold and know when to fold. The country/western music, usually Andy's staple, seemed somehow out of keeping with the peace and serenity of this day. At the edge of the driveway he stopped and changed to a classical program on WEVO, the public station. Better, he thought. Much better. The tune was familiar.
Almost instantly, it conjured up images in Andy's mind-softly falling snow… a stone hearth… a roaring fire… family. As he hummed along, Andy tried to remember where he had heard the haunting melody before.'… What child is thi-is, who laid to re-est in Mary's la-ap, lay slee-eeping?…'
