'Vile. When we were home-hunting, I purposely picked a place close to work to avoid commuting.' He shrugged. 'Best-laid plans.
Sometimes I sit bumper to bumper and imagine it's what hell would be like.'
He laughed again, sipped.
I said, 'I'll be experiencing it firsthand in a couple of daysmaking a home visit.' can't blame parents for wanting to keep an eye out, can you?Yes, Cindy mentioned it.
Ah, here comes Ms 'No,' I said. 'Sounds like you don't have much confidence in this place.'
'On the contrary, I do,' he said impatiently. 'Before we decided to have Cassie treated here, we did research-Dad notwithstanding.
So I know this is the best place in the city for sick kids. But when it's your child, statistics don't matter much, do they? And human error is inevitable.'
I held the doors to Chappy Ward open for him and he carried the coffee in.
Vicki's chunky form was visible through the glass door of the supply room behind the nursing station. She was placing something on a high shelf. We passed her and went to Cassie's room.
Chip stuck his head in, retracted it, and said, 'Still out.'
Looking down at the cups, he held one out to me. 'No sense wasting bad coffee.' ingale.. Hello, Vicki. Burning the midnight oil again?'
turned and saw the nurse marching toward us, smiling, cap bobbing.
'Evening, Professor Jones.' She sucked in air, as if preparing to power-lift, then nodded at me.
Chip handed her the untouched coffee. 'Drink it or toss it.'
'Thank you, Professor Jones.'
He cocked his head at Cassie's door. 'How long have the Sleeping Beauties been snoozing?'
'Cassie went down around eight. Mrs. Jones, around eight forty-five.'
He looked at his watch. 'Could you do me a favor, Vicki? I'm going to walk Dr. Delaware out, maybe get something to eat while I'm down there. Please have me paged if they wake up.'
'If you like I can go down and get you something, Professor.'
'No, thanks. I need to stretch freewayitis.'
Vicki clucked sympathetically. 'Of course. I'll let you know soon as someone's up.'
He looked at the ceiling and tapped one foot. A couple of nurses walked by. His eyes followed their trail, absently.
'I guess what I really have trouble handling is the irrationality,' When we got to the other side of the teak doors, he stopped and said, 'What do you think about the way we're being handled?'
'Handled in what way?'
He resumed walking. 'Handled medically-this current hospitalization.
No real evaluation's going on, as far as I can tell. No one's really checking Cassie out physically. Not that I mind-than God she doesn't have to endure those godawful needles. But the message I'm starting to get is placebo. Hold our hands, send in a shrinknothing personal-and let whatever's going on with Cassie just wind itself down.'
'Do you find that insulting?'
'Not insulting-well, maybe a little. As if it's all in our heads.
Believe me, it isn't. You people here haven't seen what we have-the blood, the seizures.'
