Read Diagnosis Death for Free Online

aside. "And you think they might feel the same way about this Dr. Gardner?"
    "I don't recall a lot about Elena, but I do remember what she looks like. And I remember you could take one look at her and know she was Latina—a very beautiful one, by the way. Whether she uses the name Gardner or Perez, people are going to know her heritage."
    Will watched as Cathy clenched her jaw. He knew that look and felt sorry for anyone who stood in her way when she displayed it. "But it's not going to sway your decision, is it?"
    "Not in the least."

    "Come in." The response to Elena's light tap hardly carried through the closed door of the ICU room.
    Elena had dreaded this visit all morning. After talking with the neurosurgeon, she was more certain than ever what was ahead for the patient and his wife. Now she owed it to Erma Pulliam to share her knowledge. Elena steeled herself and pushed through the door.
    "Mrs. Pulliam, I'm Doctor Gardner. I took care of your husband in the emergency room."
    The lines in the woman's face were etched more deeply than Elena remembered. Her eyes carried a sadness that seemed beyond utterance. She sat at her husband's bedside, one hand covering his. "I remember you." Mrs. Pulliam's voice cracked. She cleared her throat. "You came out to the waiting room and told me what was happening. I appreciate that so much. I guess . . . I guess Dr. Clark's a busy man, but I keep missing him. I spend most of my time here. Just go home to change clothes and catch a nap. The nurses have trays sent to me, so I don't have to leave the room to eat. But still, I've only seen Dr. Clark once in the past two days. And when I ask him how Chester's doing, he just says, 'All we can do is wait.' "
    Chester Pulliam lay pale and still. A large bandage covered his head. A ventilator puffed oxygenated air into his lungs via a tube into his windpipe. The monitor at the head of Chester's bed displayed blood pressure and pulse readings in the high normal range. IV fluids dripped slowly through a tube into a needle in the back of the man's right hand. The plastic bag hanging off the bed rail told Elena a urinary catheter was in place.
    Elena lifted Chester's eyelids. His eyes were fixed straight ahead, the pupils midsize. She grabbed his Achilles tendon and squeezed. No reaction. She ran her thumbnail along the sole of his foot. The toes splayed and flexed upward. She frowned.
    "Mrs. Pulliam, your husband had a very serious episode of bleeding inside his skull. That put a lot of pressure on his brain. Dr. Clark relieved that pressure and sealed off the blood vessel that burst, but the damage that was done has left Chester in a very deep coma."
    "Will he be all right, Doctor?"
    In Elena's mind a scene played out, one she knew as certainly as if she'd written the script. Chester would never recover from his coma. He'd go to a rehab facility. Despite decent care, he'd get contractures and bedsores. Eventually he'd get pneumonia or an overwhelming urinary tract infection with sepsis, and that would be his terminal event.
    Tell her what's coming, Elena. She took a deep breath. "Every day he remains in a coma makes it less likely that he'll regain consciousness. And if he does begin to react, we can't know how much permanent damage there is, how much function he'll have." Elena surprised herself with her next words. "But there's still hope."
    Mrs. Pulliam dabbed at her eyes. "Thank you, Dr. Gardner. That's all I want—to know that there's hope." She eased out of the chair with obvious effort. With one hand still grasping that of her husband, she reached with the other and took Elena's arm. "Thank you for giving me that."
    Why did you lie? You know what's ahead. Elena swallowed hard. "There's always hope."

    David wasn't sure why he felt the need to call Elena. Call it a premonition. Call it a divine prompting. Call it a surfacing of his suppressed desire to spend more time with Elena. For whatever reason, as soon as he reached his car to start