'You've seen all of it?'
'Not all of it. Cindy's the one who gets up at night. I tend to be a solid sleeper. But I've seen enough. You can't argue with blood. So why isn't more being done?'
'I can't answer for anyone else,' I said. 'But my best guess is, no one really knows what to do and they don't want to be unnecessarily 'I suppose so,' he said. And, hey, for all I know it's exactly the right approach to take. Dr. Eves seems smart enough. Maybe Cassie's symptoms are-what's the term-self-restricting?'
'Self-limiting.'
'Self-limiting.' He smiled. 'Doctors propagate more euphemisms than anyone.. I pray to God it is self- limiting. Be more than happy to remain an unsolved medical mystery if Cassie finally stays healthy.
But hope comes hard by now.'
'Chip,' I said, 'I haven't been called in because anyone thinks Cassie's problems are psychosomatic. My job is to help her deal with anxiety and pain. The reason I want to visit your home is to build up rapport with her in order to be useful for her when she needs me.'
'Sure,' he said. 'I understand.' he said. As if we're all floating around in some sea of random events.
What the hell is making her sick?'
He punched the wall.
I sensed that anything I said would make matters worse, but I knew silence wouldn't help much either.
The elevator door opened and we stepped in.
'Pissed-off parents,' he said, punching the DOWN button hard.
'Pleasant way to end your day.'
'My job.'
'Some job.'
'Beats honest labor.'
He smiled.
I pointed to the cup in his hand. 'That's got to be cold. How about we both get some fresh sludge?'
He thought for a moment. 'Sure, why not?'
The cafeteria was closed, so we went down the hall, past the Residents' Lounge, where a row of vending machines stood next to the locker room.
A thin young woman in surgical scrubs was walking away with two handfuls of candy bars. Chip and I each bought black coffee and he purchased a plastic-wrapped packet containing two chocolate chip cookies.
Farther down the corridor was a sitting area: orange plastic chairs arranged in an L, a low white table bearing food wrappers and out-of-date magazines. The Path lab was a stone's throw away. I thought of his little boy and wondered if he'd make the association.
But he ambled over and sat down, yawning.
Unwrapping the cookies, he dunked one in the coffee, said, 'Health food,' and ate the soggy part.
I sat perpendicular to him and sipped. The coffee was terrible but oddly comforting-like a favorite uncle's stale breath.
'So,' he said, dunking again, 'let me tell you about my daughter.
Terrific disposition, good eater, good sleeper-she slept through at five weeks. For anyone else, good news, right? After what happened to Chad, it scared the shit out of us. We wanted her awake-used to take turns going in there, waking her up, poor thing. But what amazes me is how resilient she is-the way she just keeps bouncing back. You wouldn't think anything that small could beso tough.
