Read Online Side Effects by Michael Palmer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michael Palmer
Tags: Fiction, thriller, Suspense, Medical, Mystery, Mystery & Detective - General, Fiction - Espionage
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immense. Form follows function. The essential law of structural design. Yet here were cells perfect in form, produced by a biologic cataclysm tantamount to a volcano. A virus? A toxin? An antibody suddenly transformed? The art of pathology demanded that the cells and tissues, though fixed and stained, never be viewed as static.
"Did you send sections over to the electron microscopy unit?" Willoughby asked.
"Not yet, but I will."
"And the young woman is bleeding as well?"
"Platelets thirty thousand. Fibrinogen fifteen percent of normal."
"Ouch!"
"Yes, ouch. I spoke with her at some length last night. No significant family history, no serious diseases, nonsmoker, social drinker, no meds ..."
"None?"
"Vitamins and iron, but that's all. No operations except an abortion at the Omnicenter about five years ago." The two continued to study the cells as they talked. "She's a cellist with the Pops."
"Travel history?" "Europe, China, Japan. None to third world spots. I told her how envious I was of people who could play music, and she just smiled this wistful smile and said that every time she picked up her cello, she felt as rich and fulfilled as she could ever want to feel. I only talked to her ^' fo r half an Page 24
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hour or so, Stan, but I came away feeling like we were ... I don't know, like we were friends." Spend a day here sometime, Jared. Come to work with me and see what I do, how I do it. "The hematology people are * | talking autoimmune phenomenon. They think the ovarian problem is long-standing, a coincidental finding at this j point." I
"Never postulate two diseases when one will explain things." Willoughby restated the maxim he had long since engrained upon her. "I suppose they're pouring in steroids."
"Stan, she's in trouble. Real trouble."
"Ah, yes. Forgive me. Sometimes I forget that there's more to this medicine business than just making a correct diagnosis. Thanks for not letting me get away with that kind of talk. Well, Doctor, I think you may really have something here. I have never encountered anything quite like it either."
"Neither had Dr. Bartholomew."
"That fossil? He probably has trouble recognizing his own shoes in the morning. Talk about a menace. All by himself he's an epidemic."
"No comment."
"Good. I have enough comments for both of us. Listen, Kate. Do you mind if I try a couple of my new silver stains on this material? The technique seems perfect for this type of pathology."
"I was about to ask if you would." . a
Willoughby engaged the intercom on the speaker-i phone system--one of the few innovations he had managed to bring into the department. "Sheila, is that you?"
"No, Doctor Willoughby, it's Jane Fonda. Of course it's me. You buzzed my office."
"Could you come into Dr. Bennett's office, please?"
There was no response. "Sheila, are you still there?"
"It's not what it sounds like, Dr. Willoughby," she said finally.
"Not what what sounds like?"
"Sheila," Kate cut in firmly, "it's me. We're calling because we have a specimen we'd like to try the silver stain on." |
For a few moments there was silence. "I ... I'll be over shortly," the technician said. Willoughby turned to Kate, his thick brows presaging his question. "Now what was that little ditty all about?"
"Nothing, really."
"Nothing? Kate, that woman has worked for me for fifteen years. Maybe more. She's cynical, impertinent, abrasive, aggressive, and at times as bossy as my wife, but she's also the best and brightest technician I've ever known.
If there's trouble between the two of you, perhaps I'd best know about it. Is it that study of the department I commissioned you and your computer friend, Sebastian, to do?"
"It's nothing, Stan. I mean it. Like most people who are very good at what they do, Sheila has a lot of pride.
Especially when it comes to her boss of fifteen years. I know it's not my place to decide, but if it's okay, I'd
"Did you send sections over to the electron microscopy unit?" Willoughby asked.
"Not yet, but I will."
"And the young woman is bleeding as well?"
"Platelets thirty thousand. Fibrinogen fifteen percent of normal."
"Ouch!"
"Yes, ouch. I spoke with her at some length last night. No significant family history, no serious diseases, nonsmoker, social drinker, no meds ..."
"None?"
"Vitamins and iron, but that's all. No operations except an abortion at the Omnicenter about five years ago." The two continued to study the cells as they talked. "She's a cellist with the Pops."
"Travel history?" "Europe, China, Japan. None to third world spots. I told her how envious I was of people who could play music, and she just smiled this wistful smile and said that every time she picked up her cello, she felt as rich and fulfilled as she could ever want to feel. I only talked to her ^' fo r half an Page 24
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
hour or so, Stan, but I came away feeling like we were ... I don't know, like we were friends." Spend a day here sometime, Jared. Come to work with me and see what I do, how I do it. "The hematology people are * | talking autoimmune phenomenon. They think the ovarian problem is long-standing, a coincidental finding at this j point." I
"Never postulate two diseases when one will explain things." Willoughby restated the maxim he had long since engrained upon her. "I suppose they're pouring in steroids."
"Stan, she's in trouble. Real trouble."
"Ah, yes. Forgive me. Sometimes I forget that there's more to this medicine business than just making a correct diagnosis. Thanks for not letting me get away with that kind of talk. Well, Doctor, I think you may really have something here. I have never encountered anything quite like it either."
"Neither had Dr. Bartholomew."
"That fossil? He probably has trouble recognizing his own shoes in the morning. Talk about a menace. All by himself he's an epidemic."
"No comment."
"Good. I have enough comments for both of us. Listen, Kate. Do you mind if I try a couple of my new silver stains on this material? The technique seems perfect for this type of pathology."
"I was about to ask if you would." . a
Willoughby engaged the intercom on the speaker-i phone system--one of the few innovations he had managed to bring into the department. "Sheila, is that you?"
"No, Doctor Willoughby, it's Jane Fonda. Of course it's me. You buzzed my office."
"Could you come into Dr. Bennett's office, please?"
There was no response. "Sheila, are you still there?"
"It's not what it sounds like, Dr. Willoughby," she said finally.
"Not what what sounds like?"
"Sheila," Kate cut in firmly, "it's me. We're calling because we have a specimen we'd like to try the silver stain on." |
For a few moments there was silence. "I ... I'll be over shortly," the technician said. Willoughby turned to Kate, his thick brows presaging his question. "Now what was that little ditty all about?"
"Nothing, really."
"Nothing? Kate, that woman has worked for me for fifteen years. Maybe more. She's cynical, impertinent, abrasive, aggressive, and at times as bossy as my wife, but she's also the best and brightest technician I've ever known.
If there's trouble between the two of you, perhaps I'd best know about it. Is it that study of the department I commissioned you and your computer friend, Sebastian, to do?"
"It's nothing, Stan. I mean it. Like most people who are very good at what they do, Sheila has a lot of pride.
Especially when it comes to her boss of fifteen years. I know it's not my place to decide, but if it's okay, I'd
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