A Brain by Robin Cook

only one,” admitted Martin. “I ran two, but they were both from the same patient.”
    â€œYou’ve only run two X rays?” said Michaels, disappointed. “I hope you didn’t wear yourself out.”
    â€œAll right, all right. Unfortunately I don’t have much time during the day to spend on our project.”
    Michaels said he understood, but implored Philips to run the program against all the skull films he’d read in the last few years, rather than being sidetracked by one positive finding. Michaels emphasized anew that at this juncture of their work, eliminating false negative readings was the most important task.
    Martin continued to listen, but he couldn’t stop studying the spidery density changes on Lisa Marino’s X ray. He knew she was a seizure patient and his scientific mind quickly asked if there could be an association between the seizures and these subtle findings on the X ray. Perhaps they represented some diffuse neurological disease . . .
    Philips terminated the conversation with Michaels with a new sense of excitement. He’d remembered that one of Lisa Marino’s tentative diagnoses was multiple sclerosis. What if he’d stumbled on a radiological diagnosis for the disease? It would be a fantastic find. Doctors had been looking for laboratory diagnosis of multiple sclerosis for years. Martin knew he had to get more X rays and a new CAT scan on Lisa Marino. It wasn’t going to be easy since she’djust been operated on, and he’d have to get Mannerheim’s approval. But Mannerheim was research-oriented and Philips decided to approach him directly.
    He yelled through the door for Helen to get the neurosurgeon on the phone and went back to Lisa Marino’s X ray. In radiological terms the density changes were called reticular although the fine lines seemed to be parallel rather than net-like. Using a magnifying glass, Martin wondered if nerve fibers could be responsible for the pattern he was seeing. That idea didn’t make sense because of the relatively hard X rays that had to be used to penetrate the skull. His train of thought was interrupted by the buzzer. Mannerheim was on the phone.
    Philips began the conversation with some usual pleasantries, ignoring the recent episode about the X rays in the OR. With Mannerheim it was always better to let such encounters slide. The surgeon seemed peculiarly silent so Martin continued, explaining that he was calling because he’d noticed some peculiar densities on Lisa Marino’s X rays.
    â€œI think these densities should be explored and I’d like to get more skull films and another CAT scan as soon as the patient can tolerate it. That is, of course, if you agree.”
    An uncomfortable pause followed. Philips was about to speak when Mannerheim snarled, “Is this some kind of a joke? If it is, it’s in very bad taste.”
    â€œIt’s no joke,” said Martin, bewildered.
    â€œListen,” shouted Mannerheim. His voice was rising, “It’s a bit late for Radiology to be reading X rays now. Christ!”
    There was a click and a dial tone. Mannerheim’s egocentric behavior seemed to have reached new heights. Martin hung up the phone, thinking. Heknew he couldn’t let his emotions intervene; besides, there was another approach. He was aware that Mannerheim didn’t follow his post-op patients that carefully, and that it really was Newman, the Chief Resident, who was responsible for their day-to-day management. Martin decided to get in touch with Newman and see if the girl was still in the recovery room.
    â€œNewman?” asked the OR desk. “He’s been gone for some time.”
    â€œOh!” said Philips. He switched the phone to the other ear. “Is Lisa Marino still in the recovery room?”
    â€œNo,” said the OR desk. “Unfortunately she never made it.”
    â€œNever made it?” Philips suddenly