Page 78 of The Devil You Know
“Oh yeah?” I grin at him. “What is it?”
“It’s called ‘Sorry Dear.’”
“Hmm. I’m afraid to ask.”
“It’s an app that helps you apologize to your significant other,” he says. “So if you’re apologizing toyour wife or girlfriend, it sends them a poem. And it gives you the option of purchasing flowers from a local flower shop.”
“And for the guy?”
“Sports tickets.” Ben smiles. “Or a salty snack assortment.”
“I have to tell you,” I say. “Your app sounds super sexist.”
“Yes, itissuper sexy.”
I roll my eyes again, but actually, it does sounds like a good idea. Maybe he’ll make a million dollars and I can quit my job. Not that I’d ever really quit. What would I do with myself?
My phone starts buzzing in my purse and I go to pick it up. I see that the extension comes from the hospital, but it’s not familiar to me. Ben raises his eyebrows at me and I shrug as I pick it up.
I’m not sure whether to answer as, “This is Dr. McGill.” It’s the hospital, after all. Then again, maybe it’s just Lisa calling me from work. I don’t want to sound like an idiot, so I just say, “Hello?”
“Hello? Jane?”
I frown. “Yes…”
Leah chooses this moment to wander into the room holding her sippy cup. Yes, she’s four years old and still drinks from a sippy cup. If we don’t use a sippy cup, she spills whatever she’s drinking. At this rate, she’ll have thesippy cup till she’s eighteen. Well, at least she’s out of diapers.
“Old McMommy had a farm!” she sings loudly, “E-I-E-I-O!”
The voice on my phone says, “Hi, this is—”
“And on that farm, there were some Mommies!” Leah continues. “E-I-E-I-OOOOOOOO!”
I flash Ben a pained look. He gets the hint and herds Leah into the kitchen so I don’t have a soundtrack to my work conversation.
“Sorry about that,” I murmur. “Who is this?”
“Jane, this is Adam Wiseman in the neuro ICU.”
Adam Wiseman. I worked with his wife during residency, and I’d been out with the two of them several times before my life became impossible. He’s the attending physician in the VA’s neuro ICU, and from what I can tell, a really good neurologist. “Hi, Adam,” I say. “What’s going on?”
“Listen.” His voice lowers several notches. “I just thought you’d like to know that I’ve got your patient here.”
“My patient?” I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“I believe he’s a big frequent flyer with you, judging by the chart,” Adam says. “Herman Katz?”
I feel like someone just punched me in the gut. Herman Katz. In the neuro ICU. That can’t be good. “What happened?”
“He had his carotid endarterectomy yesterday,” Adam explained. “Then this morning, he became densely hemiparetic on his right side and globally aphasic. Then he became difficult to arouse.”
Densely hemiparetic, meaning he can’t move his right arm or leg. Globally aphasic, meaning he can’t speak or understand language. Difficult to arouse, meaning they can’t wake him up.
“He’s a little more alert now,” Adam continues in that same low voice. “We decided not to intubate him, but based on his head CT, he’s had a dense MCA stroke.”
Great. I referred him for a surgery to prevent a stroke, but instead we managed to cause one.
“Why are you whispering, Adam?” I ask him.
