ah.thefinaldiagnosis-第68部分

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rasp　the　implications　of　it　all。
　In　swift　and　unexpected　succession　had　e；　first；　the　incident　of　the　mis…diagnosed　child　and；　shortly　afterward；　its　death。　Then　there　had　followed：　Pearson's　firing；　Charlie　Dornberger's　retirement；　the　discovery　that　an　elementary　hygiene　precaution　had　been　neglected　in　the　hospital　for　more　than　six　months；　and　now　the　occurrence　of　typhoid；　with　the　threat　of　an　even　graver　epidemic　hanging　over　Three　Counties　like　an　avenging　sword。
　So　much；　it　seemed；　had　broken　loose　at　once。　Why？　How　had　it　happened？　Was　it　a　sudden　symptom　of　a　malaise　that；　undetected　until　now；　had　gripped　the　hospital？　Was　there　more　to　e　perhaps？　Was　this　the　signal　of　a　general　disintegration　soon　to　follow？　Had　they　all　been　guilty　of　a　sense　of　placency…of　which　O'Donnell　himself　might　be　the　instigator？
　He　thought：　We　were　all　sure；　so　sure；　that　this　regime　was　better　than　the　last。　We　worked　to　make　it　so。　We　believed　we　were　creating　and　progressing；　building　a　temple　of　healing；　a　place　where　good　medicine　would　be　learned　and　practiced。　But　have　we　failed…ignominiously　and　blindly…through　the　very　goodness　of　our　own　intentions？　Have　we　been　stupid　and　unseeing…our　eyes　on　the　cloud　tops；　uplifted　by　the　glister　of　ideals；　yet　ignoring　the　plain　earthy　warning　of　everyday　events？　What　have　we　built　here？　O'Donnell　searched　his　mind。　Is　it；　in　truth；　a　place　of　healing？　Or　have　we　raised；　in　folly；　a　whited　sepulcher…an　empty；　antiseptic　shrine？
　Preoccupied；　his　thoughts　burning　and　intense；　O'Donnell　had　strode　through　the　hospital　instinctively；　unconscious　of　his　surroundings。　Now　he　came　to　his　office　and　went　inside。
　He　crossed　to　the　window　and　stood　looking　down　at　the　hospital　forecourt。　As　always；　there　was　a　movement　of　people；　ing　and　going。　He　saw　a　man　limping；　a　woman　holding　his　arm；　they　passed　beneath　and　out　of　sight。　A　car　drew　up；　a　man　jumped　out　and　helped　a　woman　into　it。　A　nurse　appeared；　handing　the　woman　a　baby。　The　doors　slammed；　the　car　moved　on。　A　boy　on　crutches　came　into　view；　he　moved　quickly；　swinging　his　body　with　the　ease　of　practice。　He　was　stopped　by　an　old　man　in　a　raincoat；　the　old　man　seemed　uncertain　where　to　go。　The　boy　pointed。　They　moved　together　toward　the　hospital　doors。
　O'Donnell　thought：　They　e　to　us　in　supplication；　holding　faith。　Are　we　worthy　of　it？　Do　our　successes　mitigate　our　failures？　Can　we；　in　time；　by　devotion　atone　for　error？　Shall　we　ever　know？
　More　practically；　he　reasoned：　After　today　there　must　be　many　changes。　They　must　plug　gaps…not　only　those　already　exposed；　but　others　they　would　uncover　by　diligent　searching。　They　must　probe　for　weaknesses…among　themselves　and　in　the　hospital　fabric。　There　must　be　greater　self…criticism；　more　self…examination。　Let　today；　he　thought；　stand　as　a　bright　and　shining　beacon…a　cross　of　sorrow；　a　signal　for　a　new　beginning。
　There　was　much　to　do；　a　great　deal　of　work　ahead。　They　would　begin　with　Pathology…the　weak　spot　where　tribulation　had　begun。　After　that　there　must　be　reorganization　elsewhere…there　were　several　departments　which　he　suspected　were　in　need　of　it。　It　was　definite　now　that　work　on　the　new　buildings　would　begin　in　the　spring；　and　the　two　programs　could　merge　together。　O'Donnell　began　to　plan；　his　brain　functioning　swiftly。
　The　telephone　rang　sharply。
　The　operator　announced；　〃Dr。　O'Donnell；　long　distance　is　calling。〃
　It　was　Denise。　Her　voice　had　the　same　soft　huskiness　that　had　attracted　him　before。　When　they　had　exchanged　greetings　she　said；　〃Kent　darling；　I　want　you　to　e　to　New　York　this　next　weekend。　I've　invited　some　people　for　Friday　night　and　I　intend　to　show　you　off。〃
　He　hesitated　only　a　moment。　Then　he　said；　〃I'm　terribly　sorry；　Denise…I　won't　be　able　to　make　it。〃
　〃But　you　must　e。〃　Her　voice　was　insistent。　〃I've　sent　out　the　invitations　and　I　can't　possibly　cancel　them。〃
　〃I'm　afraid　you　don't　understand。〃　He　felt　himself　struggling　awkwardly　to　find　the　right　words。　〃We　have　an　epidemic　here。　I　have　to　stay　until　it's　cleared　up；　then　for　a　while　at　least　there'll　be　other　things　that　must　be　done。〃
　〃But　you　said　you'd　e；　dearest…whenever　I　called　you。〃　There　was　the　slightest　hint　of　petulance。　He　found　himself　wishing　he　were　with　Denise。　He　was　sure　then　that　he　could　make　her　understand。　Or　could　he？
　He　answered；　〃Unfortunately　I　didn't　know　that　this　would　happen。〃
　〃But　you're　in　charge　of　the　hospital。　Surely；　just　for　a　day　or　two；　you　can　make　someone　else　responsible。〃　It　was　obvious　that　Denise　had　no　intention　of　understanding。
　He　said　quietly；　〃I'm　afraid　not。〃
　There　was　a　silence　at　the　other　end　of　the　line。　Then　Denise　said　lightly；　〃I　did　warn　you；　Kent…I'm　a　very　possessive　person。〃
　He　started　to　say；　〃Denise　dear；　please〃　then　stopped。
　〃Is　that　really　your　final　answer？〃　The　voice　on　the　phone　was　still　soft；　almost　caressing。
　〃It　has　to　be；〃　he　said。　〃I'm　sorry。〃　He　added；　〃I'll　call　you；　Denise…just　as　soon　as　I　can　get　away。〃
　〃Yes；〃　she　said；　〃do　that；　Kent。　Good…by。〃
　〃Good…by；〃　he　answered；　then　thoughtfully　replaced　the　phone。
　
　It　was　midmorning…the　second　day　of　the　typhoid　outbreak。
　As　Dr。　Pearson　had　predicted；　while　a　few　stool　samples　had　reached　the　lab　yesterday　afternoon；　the　bulk　had　arrived　within　the　past　hour。
　The　samples；　contained　in　small　cardboard　cups　with　lids；　were　set　out　in　rows　on　the　center　table　of　the　pathology　lab。　Each　was　identified　as　to　source；　and　Pearson；　seated　on　a　wooden　chair　at　one　end　of　the　table；　was　adding　a　lab　serial　number　and　preparing　report　sheets　on　which　the　culture　results　would　be　recorded　later。
　As　Pearson　pleted　the　preliminary　paper　work；　he　passed　each　specimen　behind　him　to　where　David　Coleman　and　John　Alexander；　working　side　by　side；　were　preparing　the　culture　plates。
　Bannister；　alone　at　a　side　table；　was　handling　other　orders　on　the　lab　which　McNeil…now　enthroned　in　the　pathology　office…had　decided　could　not　be　delayed。
　The　lab　stank。
　With　the　exception　of　David　Coleman　all　in　the　room　were　smoking；　Pearson　sending　forth　great　clouds　of　cigar　smoke　to　bat　the　odor　as　lids　were　lifted　from　the　stool…specimen　cups。　Earlier　Pearson　had　silently　offered　Coleman　a　cigar　and　the　younger　pathologist　had　lighted　it　for　a　while。　But　he　had　found　the　cigar　almost　as　unpleasant　as　the　undiluted　air　and　had　allowed　it　to　go　out。
　The　youthful　hospital　messenger　who　was　Bannister's　avowed　enemy　had　derived　great　satisfaction　from　bringing　the　specimens　in；　and　with　each　new　batch　he　had　a　fresh　line　of　banter　to　acpany　it。　On　his　first　trip　he　had　looked　at　Bannister　and　announced；　〃They　certainly　found　the　right　place　to　send　this　stuff。〃　Later　he　had　told　Coleman；　〃Got　six　new　flavors　for　you；　Doctor。〃　Now；　setting　a　series　of　cartons　in　front　of　Pearson；　he　had　asked；　〃You　like　cream　and　sugar　in　yours；　sir？〃　Pearson　grunted　and　went　on　writing。
　John　Alexander　was　working　methodically；　his　mind　concentrated　on　the　work　in　hand。　With　the　same　fluidity　of　movement　which　David　Coleman　had　noted　at　their　first　meeting　he　reached　for　a　specimen　cup　and　removed　the　cardboard　lid。　He　pulled　a　petri　dish　toward　him　and；　using　a　crayon　pencil；　copied　the　number　from　the　lid　onto　the　dish。　Now　he　took　a　small　platinum　loop　fixed　to　the　end　of　a　wooden　handle　and　sterilized　it　in　a　burner　flame。　Next　he　passed　the　loop　through　the　stool　specimen；　transferring　a　small　portion　of　it　to　a　tube　of　sterile　saline。　He　repeated　the　process；　then；　using　the　platinum　loop　again；　planted　some　of　the　solution　on　the　culture　plate；　moving　the　loop　in　even；　steady　strokes。
　Now　he　labeled　the　saline　tube　and　placed　it　in　a　rack。　The　petri　dish；　with　its　culture　plate；　he　carried　across　the　lab　to　an　incubator。　There　it　would　remain　until　the　following　day　when　subcultures；　if　necessary；　could　be　begun。　The　process　was　one　which　could　not　be　hurried。
　He　turned　away　to　find　David　Coleman　close　behind　him。　On　impulse　Alexander　said　quietly；　conscious　of　Pearson　across　the　room；　〃Doctor；　there's　something　I　wanted　to　tell　you。〃
　〃What　is　it？〃　Coleman　added　a　petri　dish　himself　to　the　incubator　and　closed　the　door。
　〃I　。　。　。　that　is；　we　。　。　。　have　decided　to　take　your　advice。　I'm　going　to　apply　for　medical　school。〃
　〃I'm　glad。〃　Coleman　spoke　with　genuine　feeling。　〃I'm　sure　it　will　turn　out　well。〃
　〃What　will　turn　out　well？〃　It　was　Pearson；　his　head　lifted；　watching。
　Coleman　went　back　to　his　work　position；　seated　himself；　and　opened　a　new　specimen。　He　said　matter…of…factly；　〃John's　just　told　me　he's　decided　to　apply　for　medical　school。　I　advised　him　some　time　ago　that　he　should。〃
　〃Oh。〃　Pearson　looked　at　Alexander　sharply。　He　asked；　〃How　will　you　afford　it？〃
　〃My　wife　can　work；　for　one　thing；　Doctor。　And　then　I　thought　I　might　get　some　lab　work　out　of　school　hours；　a　lot　of　medical　students　do。〃　Alexander　paused；　then；　glancing　at　Coleman；　he　added；　〃I　don't　imagine　it　will　be　easy。　But　we　think　it　will　be　worth　it。〃
　〃I　see。〃　Pearson　had　blown　out　smoke；　now　he　put　down　his　cigar。　He　seemed　about　to　say　something　else；　then　hesitated。　Finally　he　asked；　〃How　is　your　wife？〃
　Quietly　Alexander　answered；　〃She'll　be　all　right。　Thank　you。〃
　Fo