in his sense of responsibility that the incident evoked. Dealing with Mannerheim called on resources he never imagined heâd need as a radiologist. He hadnât resolved anything when he arrived back at the department.
âThey are ready for you in the angiography room,â said Helen Walker when he reached his office. She stood up and followed him inside. Helen was anextremely gracious thirty-eight-year-old black woman from Queens who had been Philipsâ secretary for five years. They had a wonderful working relationship. It terrorized Philips to think of her ever leaving, because like any good secretary she was instrumental in running Philipsâ day-to-day life. Even Philipsâ current wardrobe was the result of her efforts. He would have still been wearing the same boxy clothes heâd worn in college if Helen hadnât teased him into meeting her in Bloomingdaleâs one Saturday afternoon. The result had been a new Philips, and the contemporary fitted clothes suited his athletic body.
Philips tossed Mannerheimâs X rays onto his desk, where they merged with the other X rays, papers, journals and books. It was one place Philips forbade Helen to touch. No matter what his desk looked like he knew where everything was.
Helen stood behind him reading a steady stream of messages she felt obligated to tell him. Dr. Rees had called asking about the CAT scan on his patient, the X ray unit in the second angiography room had been fixed and was functioning normally, the emergency room called saying that they were expecting a severe head injury that was going to need an emergency CAT scan. It was endless and it was routine. Philips told her to handle everything, which was what sheâd planned to do anyway, and she disappeared back to her desk.
Philips removed his white coat and put on the lead apron he wore during certain X-ray procedures to protect himself from the radiation. The bib of the apron was distinguished by a faded Superman monogram, which had resisted all attempts at removal. It had been drawn there in jest two years previously by the neuroradiology fellows. Knowing the gesture hadbeen made out of respect, Martin had not been annoyed.
As he was about to leave, his eyes swept across the surface of his desk for a reassuring glimpse of the program cassette, just to make certain he hadnât fantasized Michaelsâ news. Not seeing it, Martin walked over to shuffle through the more recent layers of debris. He found the cassette under Mannerheimâs X rays. Philips started to leave, but again stopped. He picked up the cassette and Lisa Marinoâs latest lateral skull X ray. Yelling through the open door for Helen to tell the angio room heâd be right there, he walked over to his worktable.
He took off his lead apron and draped it over a chair. He stared at the computed prototype, wondering if it would really work. The he held up Lisa Marinoâs operative X ray to the light that came from the banks of viewing screens. He wasnât interested in the electrode silhouettes and his mind eliminated them. What interested Philips was what the computer would say about the craniotomy. Philips knew they had not included the procedure in the program.
He flipped the switch on the central processor. A red light came on and he slowly inserted the cassette. He got it three-quarters of the way in, when the machine swallowed it like a hungry dog. Immediately the typewriter unit came alive. Philips moved over so he could read the output.
H I ! I AM R ADREAD , S KULL I. P LEASE ENTER PATIENT NAME .
Philips pecked out âLisa Marinoâ with his two index fingers and entered it.
T HANK YOU . P LEASE ENTER PRESENTING COMPLAINT .
Philips typed: âseizure disorder,â and entered that.
T HANK YOU . P LEASE ENTER RELEVANT CLINICAL information.
Philips typed: â21-year female, one year history of temporal lobe epilepsy.â
T HANK YOU . P LEASE INSERT FILM IN LASER
âThey are ready for you in the angiography room,â said Helen Walker when he reached his office. She stood up and followed him inside. Helen was anextremely gracious thirty-eight-year-old black woman from Queens who had been Philipsâ secretary for five years. They had a wonderful working relationship. It terrorized Philips to think of her ever leaving, because like any good secretary she was instrumental in running Philipsâ day-to-day life. Even Philipsâ current wardrobe was the result of her efforts. He would have still been wearing the same boxy clothes heâd worn in college if Helen hadnât teased him into meeting her in Bloomingdaleâs one Saturday afternoon. The result had been a new Philips, and the contemporary fitted clothes suited his athletic body.
Philips tossed Mannerheimâs X rays onto his desk, where they merged with the other X rays, papers, journals and books. It was one place Philips forbade Helen to touch. No matter what his desk looked like he knew where everything was.
Helen stood behind him reading a steady stream of messages she felt obligated to tell him. Dr. Rees had called asking about the CAT scan on his patient, the X ray unit in the second angiography room had been fixed and was functioning normally, the emergency room called saying that they were expecting a severe head injury that was going to need an emergency CAT scan. It was endless and it was routine. Philips told her to handle everything, which was what sheâd planned to do anyway, and she disappeared back to her desk.
Philips removed his white coat and put on the lead apron he wore during certain X-ray procedures to protect himself from the radiation. The bib of the apron was distinguished by a faded Superman monogram, which had resisted all attempts at removal. It had been drawn there in jest two years previously by the neuroradiology fellows. Knowing the gesture hadbeen made out of respect, Martin had not been annoyed.
As he was about to leave, his eyes swept across the surface of his desk for a reassuring glimpse of the program cassette, just to make certain he hadnât fantasized Michaelsâ news. Not seeing it, Martin walked over to shuffle through the more recent layers of debris. He found the cassette under Mannerheimâs X rays. Philips started to leave, but again stopped. He picked up the cassette and Lisa Marinoâs latest lateral skull X ray. Yelling through the open door for Helen to tell the angio room heâd be right there, he walked over to his worktable.
He took off his lead apron and draped it over a chair. He stared at the computed prototype, wondering if it would really work. The he held up Lisa Marinoâs operative X ray to the light that came from the banks of viewing screens. He wasnât interested in the electrode silhouettes and his mind eliminated them. What interested Philips was what the computer would say about the craniotomy. Philips knew they had not included the procedure in the program.
He flipped the switch on the central processor. A red light came on and he slowly inserted the cassette. He got it three-quarters of the way in, when the machine swallowed it like a hungry dog. Immediately the typewriter unit came alive. Philips moved over so he could read the output.
H I ! I AM R ADREAD , S KULL I. P LEASE ENTER PATIENT NAME .
Philips pecked out âLisa Marinoâ with his two index fingers and entered it.
T HANK YOU . P LEASE ENTER PRESENTING COMPLAINT .
Philips typed: âseizure disorder,â and entered that.
T HANK YOU . P LEASE ENTER RELEVANT CLINICAL information.
Philips typed: â21-year female, one year history of temporal lobe epilepsy.â
T HANK YOU . P LEASE INSERT FILM IN LASER
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