dour-faced, pasty-skinned denizens of medical records failed to intimidate.
She wrote down George Ulrich's name and date of birth on the request slip and handed it to the clerk. The paper crackled between his fingers as if his touch might set it on fire.
"No medical record number?" the clerk asked in an annoyed tone as dry as the paper he handled.
"I don't have it."
He sighed, rolled his eyes, and punched the information into the computer. "Why didn't you tell me the patient was expired?" he snapped. "It'll be a minute. Wait here." He rose and left the desk, disappearing into the shadowy stacks of musty medical charts.
He returned in a few minutes and dumped three thick volumes onto the counter, releasing a small wave of dust. Cassie took them over to one of the dictation cubicles that lined the room.
The manila covers were printed with Charlie's older brother's name, date of birth, medical record number and the Three Rivers logo as well as a confidentiality disclosure. Overtop of all the printing was stamped in large red letters the word "Expired".
Expired. Medical records term for dead. Cassie hated it. It made the often messy process of death seem sterile and uncomplicated. What was wrong with good old-fashioned dying? Why was everyone so frightened by the word? After all, it was something that happened to them all, no avoiding it.
If anyone knew that, it was Cassie. She closed her eyes briefly, willing the image of Drake, covered in his own blood, away from her mind. It was painfully obvious that something she'd done was keeping him at a distance. If she just knew what it was, she could fix it...
She pulled her attention back to the chart before her and the lost child whose story it told.
George's chart was thick for someone who died at such a young age. Cassie thumbed through the indexed tabs and counted nine admissions and at least twice as many ER visits interspersed with clinic notes.
She grabbed a piece of the ubiquitous hospital notepaper and started on the first volume. George's birth was unremarkable. Full-term, no complications. But things quickly changed. His first ER visit was at three weeks of age for a blue spell. He was admitted and evaluated for possible sepsis as well as cardiac problems, but no cause was ever found.
It was then that Karl Sterling got involved. He invited the Ulrichs to participate in a study of children with "near miss SIDS" or Apparent Life Threatening Events. He would provide free care and a monitor for George. The parents were both in trained in CPR as well as the monitor use, and George went home after a week in the hospital.
The very next day Virginia Ulrich brought him back into the ER for another blue spell. She reported giving the baby CPR for several minutes before he responded. He was admitted again.
And so it went.
By the time he was a year old, George had spent more time in the hospital than out of it. Nursing assessments and social work notes described Virginia as a devoted, concerned, intelligent mother who would do anything to make her baby healthy.
George stopped growing and a feeding tube was placed. Then he developed an intolerance to his feeds and experienced such profuse diarrhea that a central line was inserted near his heart so that he could receive nutrition intravenously. The IV became infected, he was treated, it again became infected, he was treated a second time and evaluated for an immunodeficiency.
It was during this admission that a nurse named Sheila Kaminsky documented that she'd found Virginia Ulrich holding George with his IV line open, dripping blood.
Virginia claimed that it had come loose when her husband had placed George into her arms, but Kaminsky reported her suspicions to Children and Youth.
Notes from the correspondence section of the chart documented Karl Sterling's rabid defense of Virginia. Then came a notation that Children and Youth, after an
She wrote down George Ulrich's name and date of birth on the request slip and handed it to the clerk. The paper crackled between his fingers as if his touch might set it on fire.
"No medical record number?" the clerk asked in an annoyed tone as dry as the paper he handled.
"I don't have it."
He sighed, rolled his eyes, and punched the information into the computer. "Why didn't you tell me the patient was expired?" he snapped. "It'll be a minute. Wait here." He rose and left the desk, disappearing into the shadowy stacks of musty medical charts.
He returned in a few minutes and dumped three thick volumes onto the counter, releasing a small wave of dust. Cassie took them over to one of the dictation cubicles that lined the room.
The manila covers were printed with Charlie's older brother's name, date of birth, medical record number and the Three Rivers logo as well as a confidentiality disclosure. Overtop of all the printing was stamped in large red letters the word "Expired".
Expired. Medical records term for dead. Cassie hated it. It made the often messy process of death seem sterile and uncomplicated. What was wrong with good old-fashioned dying? Why was everyone so frightened by the word? After all, it was something that happened to them all, no avoiding it.
If anyone knew that, it was Cassie. She closed her eyes briefly, willing the image of Drake, covered in his own blood, away from her mind. It was painfully obvious that something she'd done was keeping him at a distance. If she just knew what it was, she could fix it...
She pulled her attention back to the chart before her and the lost child whose story it told.
George's chart was thick for someone who died at such a young age. Cassie thumbed through the indexed tabs and counted nine admissions and at least twice as many ER visits interspersed with clinic notes.
She grabbed a piece of the ubiquitous hospital notepaper and started on the first volume. George's birth was unremarkable. Full-term, no complications. But things quickly changed. His first ER visit was at three weeks of age for a blue spell. He was admitted and evaluated for possible sepsis as well as cardiac problems, but no cause was ever found.
It was then that Karl Sterling got involved. He invited the Ulrichs to participate in a study of children with "near miss SIDS" or Apparent Life Threatening Events. He would provide free care and a monitor for George. The parents were both in trained in CPR as well as the monitor use, and George went home after a week in the hospital.
The very next day Virginia Ulrich brought him back into the ER for another blue spell. She reported giving the baby CPR for several minutes before he responded. He was admitted again.
And so it went.
By the time he was a year old, George had spent more time in the hospital than out of it. Nursing assessments and social work notes described Virginia as a devoted, concerned, intelligent mother who would do anything to make her baby healthy.
George stopped growing and a feeding tube was placed. Then he developed an intolerance to his feeds and experienced such profuse diarrhea that a central line was inserted near his heart so that he could receive nutrition intravenously. The IV became infected, he was treated, it again became infected, he was treated a second time and evaluated for an immunodeficiency.
It was during this admission that a nurse named Sheila Kaminsky documented that she'd found Virginia Ulrich holding George with his IV line open, dripping blood.
Virginia claimed that it had come loose when her husband had placed George into her arms, but Kaminsky reported her suspicions to Children and Youth.
Notes from the correspondence section of the chart documented Karl Sterling's rabid defense of Virginia. Then came a notation that Children and Youth, after an
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