modes of mischief for the rest of the year.'
'Doesn't sound too bad.'
'Shouldn't be. No one else in the group does endocrinology, so maybe I'll even have a chance to use my training once in a while.'
'How long have you been at Western Peds?'
'Two years. One and a half too long.'
'The financial situation?'
'That's a big part of it but not all of it. I was no Pollyanna when I came here, knew an inner-city hospital would always be struggling to balance the books. It's the attitude that bugs me.'
'Grandpa Chuck?'
And his boys. They're trying to run this place like just another company. We could be manufacturing widgets for all they're concerned.
That's what grinds-their not understanding. Even the gypsies know things are bad-you know about our Hollywood gypsies?'
'Sure,' I said. 'Big white Cadillacs, twelve to a car, camp-outs in the hallways, the barter system.'
He grinned. 'I've been paid with food, spare parts for my MG, an old mandolin. Actually, it's a better reimbursement rate than I get from the government. Anyway, one of my diabetics is one of them.
Nine years old, in line to be king of the tribe. His mother's this good-looking woman, educated, about a hundred years of living behind her. Usually when she comes in she's full of laughs, buttering me up, telling me I'm God's answer to medical science. This time she was really quiet, as if she was upset about something. And it was just a routine exam-the boy's doing well, medically. So I asked her what the matter was and she said, This place, Dr. Al. Bad vibrations.' She was narrowing her eyes at me like some storefront fortuneteller. I said, what do you mean? But she wouldn't explain, just touched my hand and said, I like you, Dr. Al, and Anton likes you. But we won't be
coming back here. Bad vibrations.'' He hefted the charts and transferred them to one hand. 'Pretty dicey, huh?'
I said, 'Maybe we should consult her on Cassie.'
He smiled. Patients continued to stream in, even though there was no room for them. Some of them greeted him and he responded with winks.
I thanked him again for his time.
He said, 'Sorry we won't have a chance to work together.'.1
'Good luck in Colorado.'
'Yup,' he said. 'You ski?'
'No.'
'Me neither...' He looked back at the waiting room, shook his head.
'What a place... Originally, I was gonna be a surgeon, slice and dice. Then, when I was a second-year med student, I came down with diabetes. No dramatic symptoms, just some weight loss that I didn't think much about because I wasn't eating properly. I went into shock in the middle of gross anatomy lab, collapsed on top of my cadaver. It was just before Christmas. I got home and my family handled it by passing the honey-baked ham right by me, no one saying anything. I handled that by rolling my pants up, hoisting my leg up on the table and jabbing it, in front of everyone. Eventually, I figured it was time to forget about scalpels and think about people. That's what appealed to me about this placeworking with kids and families. But when I got here I found out that was all gone.
Bad vibes is right. That gypsy lady could tell the moment she walked in the door. It might sound nuts to you, but she crystallized what had been going on in my head for a while. Sure, Colorado's gonna be boring-sniffles and sneezes and diaper rash. And I haven't been here long enough to collect any pension, so financially the two years have been a wash. But at least I won't be sitting on the fence.
Cocka-doodle-doo.'
Robin called at seven to say she was on her way over. She was at my door a half hour later, hair drawn back
