Weapon of Choice

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Authors: Patricia Gussin
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sarcoma? Not really “sarcoma” meaning cancer, but tumor cells that cluster in nodules and darkly colored papular blotches.
    An infectious disease expert, Victor knew that the antibiotics dripping into Matthew’s intravenous line were appropriate for Pneumocystis carinii, the bane of AIDS, and staph, and almost every other combination of bad bacteria. But nobody in this mediocre hospital would share Matthew’s medical details. What organisms were growing? What did the antibiotic sensitivity panel show? Doctors in a D.C. hospital would handle HIV without all this fumbling. Nevertheless, Matthew’s cheeks were a little pinker and his skin no longer so clammy. And he’d even started opening his eyes if only for a few seconds.
    Victor never should have left Matthew alone in Florida. What had possessed him to go chasing off to Keystone Pharma? When he got the call that Dr. Nelson wanted to operate, Victor should haveheaded directly to Tampa, chartered a plane that night, and taken Matthew home.
    Matthew, alone and surely terrified, giving consent to surgery with no one by his side. Well, that would never happen again.
Matthew, I’m here and I will never abandon you
.
    Victor had always been accused of being defensive, guarded, overly suspicious. Maybe that was true, but now, for the first time, Victor had found a relationship based on total trust. He was all Matthew had. And he vowed not to let him down.
    When a nurse showed up to suction Matthew’s nasotracheal tube, Victor stood, leaned over Matthew close enough to confirm the stability of his vital signs on the monitor, and told the nurse he was going to the cafeteria for breakfast. He’d spent most of the night in the chair next to Matthew, except for the hour or so he’d dozed off on the sofa in the ICU waiting room. He’d brushed his teeth and tried to shave in the men’s room, but he still wore the same clothes he’d traveled in, not wanting to leave Matthew’s side long enough to book a hotel room.
    Victor paid for his oatmeal, orange juice, and hot tea and found a table in the far corner, away from all those people in scrubs and white coats. A woman sat alone in the back, wearing a designer-looking outfit. As he approached, she stood and called out, “Victor Worth—is that you?” She looked to be in her sixties, trim, with highlighted hair.
    â€œNaomi Kantor,” he said, pausing. He remembered the pretentious woman whom he’d always disdained. His former boss’s wife.
    â€œWhat are you doing in Tampa? Come. Sit with me.”
    Victor carried his tray to the small square table and sat down opposite her bowl of fruit, English muffin, and carafe of coffee.
    â€œNorman’s here in the ICU,” Naomi began. “He fell out of his sailboat, can you believe that? I’m so worried. He fractured his hip, and they did surgery, then he got blood clots. Well, you can imagine, I’ve been beside myself. Our twins both wanted to come down, but they’re so busy with their jobs. Kyle’s a dentist in Richmond and has two girls. Kara is a CPA in Philadelphia and she has two boys. Four grandchildren, total.”
    Right, Victor thought:
Two and two. And, I have one son, he wanted to say. And your bastard husband has all but murdered him
. But he kept silent.
    â€œI feel so alone down here,” she continued. Typical Naomi. The woman could not shut up. “You can’t believe how glad I am to see you.” She reached across the table to squeeze Victor’s arm.
    You wouldn’t be touching me if you knew where I just came from
.
    â€œYou do know that Norman retired last year. Now that I think of it, you weren’t at the party.” The woman could not shut up.
    â€œKeystone Pharma went all out. A gala affair in the Commonwealth Club at the William Penn Inn. I guess that was too much, to expect you to come from Bethesda to Philadelphia.”
    Nice of you to let me

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