smiled the numb smile of crisis, and quickly left the room to find Finney. His head spinning, side aching, and feeling nausea at his sudden movement, Jake turned into the hallway from Doc’s room and ran straight into a man in surgical blues, nearly knocking both of them to the floor.
“What’s going on? Who are you? What were you doing in there?”
“Sorry, doctor.” Jake didn’t feel repentant, but overtures of repentance seemed the best strategy to accomplish his goal. “Doc, I mean Greg Lowell, is one of my best friends. I just had to see him.”
The doctor studied Jake’s face. Then the light turned on.
“You’re Jake Woods, aren’t you? Greg introduced me to you at Halley’s Bar and Grill a few years ago, remember? Barry Simpson. We had some drinks together. I read your column.”
Jake didn’t remember, but then, Doc had introduced him to lots of people in lots of bars over lots of drinks, and bar memories were usually the most vague. “Sure, I remember you, Dr. Simpson.” Maybe Jake could trade that one night of bar bonding for a ticket to see Finney.
“I heard you were in the accident with Greg, you and another guy.”
“Yeah, that’s Finney. He’s in here too. He and Doc and I have always been thick, since we were kids. Played ball together. Same college. Same battalion in Nam.”
“Listen, I won’t say anything about you coming in here unauthorized, but you’ve really got to get out. You don’t look that great yourself. I’ll have you taken back to your room in a wheelchair.”
“Doctor, look, I know I’ve overstepped the boundaries, but I’ve got to ask a favor. Could you let me go see Finney just for a few minutes? Then I promise I’ll go right back to my room.”
“No way. I can’t let you in there.”
Jake tried to look pathetic enough to change the man’s mind, but he was already making plans to sneak back in if he had to. He’d borrow some surgical blues and come in undercover, if that’s what it took.
“Please, doctor. Only for a minute. It’s killing me not to see him.”
The doctor’s face softened. “Well, Greg was a colleague—I mean, is a colleague. And I suppose he’d bend the rules to let you see your friend.” Simpson said it as if Doc’s rule bending was legendary. “I guess I can do it, but let’s be quick about it. I think your friend’s in the next hall. Let’s go.”
Dr. Simpson started to escort Jake from the room, just as a nurse came around a corner to check in on Doc. Simpson stopped suddenly in front of the nurse, whose badge said “Robin.”
“Dr. Lowell’s fine, nurse. I just checked him. This guy was in his room. I want you to get on top of security in this whole unit! If he could just walk in, anybody could come in off the street!”
Nurse Robin gave a wide-eyed, “Yes, doctor” and marched to the nurses station to pass on his lecture on ICU security.
As they walked to Finney’s room, Jake now remembered Simpson. He’d come into the bar after Jake and Doc’s second or third beer. The three had swapped stories, impressed each other and complained about women. Especially about complaining women. And about how a lot of women seemed madder at men now than back in the seventies before men started trying so hard to please them. It went from what was it women wanted, anyway, to who gives a rip, to let’s have a few more beers. A typical happy hour with three modern professional males, as Jake recalled.
When they entered the room, both Jake and the doctor were surprised to see the petite brown-haired woman holding Finney’s hand. Sue turned to the men, raised her eyebrows admiringly at Jake, and said to Dr. Simpson, “I’m Sue Keels, Finney’s wife. I’m also an emergency room nurse. Dr. Milhall let me in. I’m not in the way, Doctor.”
“Yes, no doubt.” Dr. Simpson didn’t sound convinced. “Mr. Keels has persistent friends and family, I’ll say that for him. We can’t seem to keep them away regardless of the
“What’s going on? Who are you? What were you doing in there?”
“Sorry, doctor.” Jake didn’t feel repentant, but overtures of repentance seemed the best strategy to accomplish his goal. “Doc, I mean Greg Lowell, is one of my best friends. I just had to see him.”
The doctor studied Jake’s face. Then the light turned on.
“You’re Jake Woods, aren’t you? Greg introduced me to you at Halley’s Bar and Grill a few years ago, remember? Barry Simpson. We had some drinks together. I read your column.”
Jake didn’t remember, but then, Doc had introduced him to lots of people in lots of bars over lots of drinks, and bar memories were usually the most vague. “Sure, I remember you, Dr. Simpson.” Maybe Jake could trade that one night of bar bonding for a ticket to see Finney.
“I heard you were in the accident with Greg, you and another guy.”
“Yeah, that’s Finney. He’s in here too. He and Doc and I have always been thick, since we were kids. Played ball together. Same college. Same battalion in Nam.”
“Listen, I won’t say anything about you coming in here unauthorized, but you’ve really got to get out. You don’t look that great yourself. I’ll have you taken back to your room in a wheelchair.”
“Doctor, look, I know I’ve overstepped the boundaries, but I’ve got to ask a favor. Could you let me go see Finney just for a few minutes? Then I promise I’ll go right back to my room.”
“No way. I can’t let you in there.”
Jake tried to look pathetic enough to change the man’s mind, but he was already making plans to sneak back in if he had to. He’d borrow some surgical blues and come in undercover, if that’s what it took.
“Please, doctor. Only for a minute. It’s killing me not to see him.”
The doctor’s face softened. “Well, Greg was a colleague—I mean, is a colleague. And I suppose he’d bend the rules to let you see your friend.” Simpson said it as if Doc’s rule bending was legendary. “I guess I can do it, but let’s be quick about it. I think your friend’s in the next hall. Let’s go.”
Dr. Simpson started to escort Jake from the room, just as a nurse came around a corner to check in on Doc. Simpson stopped suddenly in front of the nurse, whose badge said “Robin.”
“Dr. Lowell’s fine, nurse. I just checked him. This guy was in his room. I want you to get on top of security in this whole unit! If he could just walk in, anybody could come in off the street!”
Nurse Robin gave a wide-eyed, “Yes, doctor” and marched to the nurses station to pass on his lecture on ICU security.
As they walked to Finney’s room, Jake now remembered Simpson. He’d come into the bar after Jake and Doc’s second or third beer. The three had swapped stories, impressed each other and complained about women. Especially about complaining women. And about how a lot of women seemed madder at men now than back in the seventies before men started trying so hard to please them. It went from what was it women wanted, anyway, to who gives a rip, to let’s have a few more beers. A typical happy hour with three modern professional males, as Jake recalled.
When they entered the room, both Jake and the doctor were surprised to see the petite brown-haired woman holding Finney’s hand. Sue turned to the men, raised her eyebrows admiringly at Jake, and said to Dr. Simpson, “I’m Sue Keels, Finney’s wife. I’m also an emergency room nurse. Dr. Milhall let me in. I’m not in the way, Doctor.”
“Yes, no doubt.” Dr. Simpson didn’t sound convinced. “Mr. Keels has persistent friends and family, I’ll say that for him. We can’t seem to keep them away regardless of the
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