directions, the old buildings had been renovated, sandblasted, and refurbished so that they shone with quaint splendor. And for another block beyond that, many of the buildings were fronted by scaffolding, indicating that they too were being repaired.
It appeared as if the clinic was taking over a whole section of the city.
Jennifer went through the front entrance expecting the usual hospital furnishings but was pleasantly surprised by a lobby that reminded her more of a luxury hotel. Everything was new and spotlessly clean. The large reception area was so well staffed that Jennifer and Cheryl did not have to wait long before a pretty black secretary said, “May I help you?”
She was dressed in a white blouse and blue jumper and wore a name tag that said “Hi! I’m Louise.”
Cheryl’s answer was barely audible. “I’m to see Dr. Foley.
I’m to have an abortion.”
Louise’s face clouded over with concern. “Are you all right, Ms . . . .”
“Tedesco,” said Jennifer. “Cheryl Tedesco.”
“I’m fine,” insisted Cheryl. “Really I am.”
“We have psychologists on call for admitting if you’d like to talk to one now. We’d like to make you as comfortable as possible.”
“Thank you,” said Cheryl. “But I have my friend here.” She pointed to Jennifer. “I wanted to ask if she will be permitted to go upstairs with me.”
“Absolutely,” said Louise. “We encourage patients to have company. But first let me call up your record on my computer and then alert the admitting people. Why don’t you two go over to the lounge and relax. We’ll be with you in just a few minutes.”
As Cheryl and Jennifer walked around to the comfortable sitting area, Jennifer said, “I’m beginning to understand why you and Candy are so high on this place. If Louise is any example of how they treat you here, I’m truly impressed.”
They barely had time to slip out of their coats when an elderly gentleman approached them, pushing a cart with a coffee and tea dispenser. He was dressed in a pink jacket, which he proudly stated was worn by volunteers.
“Are the nurses this friendly, too?” asked Jennifer.
“Everybody is friendly here,” said Cheryl, but despite her smile, Jennifer could tell that she was anxious.
“How are you doing?” she asked, reaching over and squeezing Cheryl’s hand.
“Fine,” said Cheryl, nodding her head up and down as if trying to convince herself.
“Excuse me, are you Cheryl Tedesco?” asked another pleasant-looking young woman dressed in a white shirt with a blue jumper. Her name tag said “Hi! I’m Karen.”
“I’m Karen Krinitz,” she said, offering a hand which Cheryl shook uncertainly. “I’ve been assigned to coordinate your case and to make sure everything runs smoothly. If you have any problems, just page me.” She patted a small plastic device clipped over a blue belt that matched her jumper. “We want your stay here to be as pleasant as possible.”
“Are all the patients assigned a coordinator?” asked Jennifer.
“They certainly are,” said Karen proudly. “The whole idea here is that the patient comes first. We don’t want to leave anything to chance. There is too much opportunity for misunderstanding, especially now that medicine has become so highly technical. Doctors can sometimes become so engrossed in the treatment that the patient is momentarily forgotten.
It’s our job to keep that from happening.”
Jennifer watched as the woman said good-bye and disappeared around a planter. There was something about her that Jennifer found strange, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“Did her speech seem odd to you?” she asked Cheryl.
“I didn’t understand what she was talking about. Is that what you mean?”
“No,” said Jennifer, turning to see if she could catch sight of the woman again. “I just thought there was something odd about the way she talked. But it must be me. I think morning sickness is affecting my brain.”
“At least she was friendly,” said Cheryl. “Wait until you meet Dr. Foley.”
A few minutes later a man came by and introduced himself as Rodney Murray. He was wearing a blue jacket made of the same heavy cotton as Karen’s jumper with an identical tag announcing his name. His voice also had an odd flat quality, and as Jennifer stared at him, she realized that his eyes did not seem to blink.
“Everything is ready for you, Ms. Tedesco,” he said, fastening a plastic ID bracelet around Cheryl’s wrist. “I’ll be accompanying you upstairs, but first we have to go to the lab for your blood work and a few other tests.”
“Can Jennifer come with us?” asked Cheryl.
“Absolutely,” said Rodney.
The man was extraordinarily attentive to Cheryl, and after a few minutes Jennifer dismissed her initial impression as the working of an overwrought imagination.
The lab was expecting Cheryl, so they didn’t have to wait.
Again, Jennifer was impressed. She’d never been to a doctor’s office or a hospital where she didn’t have to wait for everything. Cheryl was finished in minutes.
As they rode up in the elevator, Rodney explained that Cheryl was going to a special area the hospital had for
“pregnancy termination.” Jennifer noted that everyone at the Julian Clinic studiously avoided the word “abortion.” She felt it was a good idea. Abortion was an ugly word.
They got off at the sixth floor. Again, nothing about the floor resembled the average hospital. Instead of slick vinyl, the floor was covered with carpeting. The walls were painted a pale blue and hung with attractive framed prints.
Rodney took them to a central area that was carefully decorated not to look like a nurses’ station. In front of the central station was a tastefully appointed lounge where five people dressed in what Jennifer assumed was the Julian uniform were waiting. Three of the women wore name tags indicating that they were RNs. Jennifer liked the fact that they were not dressed in the traditional starched white. She had the feeling that Karen was right: the Julian Clinic had thought of everything. She began to wonder if Dr. Vandermer had admitting privileges, since she was sure the delivery floor reflected the same attention to comfort.
“Ms. Tedesco, your room is right over here,” said one of the nurses who had introduced herself as Marlene Polaski. She was a broad, big-boned woman with short blond hair who looked around Cheryl’s room as if she were checking every detail.
She even opened the door to the toilet. Satisfied, she patted the bed and told Cheryl to slip out of her clothes and make herself comfortable.
The room, like the corridor, was as pleasantly furnished as one in a good hotel, except for the standard hospital bed.
A television was set into the ceiling at an angle so that it could be viewed comfortably from either the bed or the easy chair. The walls were light green with lots of built-in cabinets. The floor was covered with green carpet.
After changing into her own pajamas, Cheryl climbed into the bed.
Marlene whisked back into the room, pushing an IV cart.
She explained to Cheryl that they needed an IV just for safety’s sake. She started one deftly in Cheryl’s left arm, carefully attaching a small arm board. Jennifer and Cheryl watched the drops falling in the millipore chamber. All at once it didn’t seem so much like a hotel room.
“So,” said Marlene, putting on the last strips of tape.
“We’ll be taking you down to the treatment room in a few moments.” Then, turning to Jennifer, she said, “You are welcome to come along. That is, of course, if Cheryl will permit it. She’s the boss.”
“Oh, yes!” said Cheryl, her face brightening. “Jennifer, you will come, won’t you?”
The room seemed to spin momentarily. Jennifer felt as if she’d expected to go wading but instead was being thrown into the deep end of the pool. Both Marlene and Cheryl were looking at her expectantly.
“All right, I’ll come,” she said finally.
