over. Then you can go to confession and wipe the slate clean.” Dan knew that wasn’t really how it worked, but what the hell, it was close.
“Don’t worry,” Michael said. “I won’t fall apart on you.” He said this despite the fact that he was having difficulty breathing.
“Attaboy.” Dan slapped him on the back.
They entered the lobby of the emergency room and approached the Admissions window. That’s when Michael had a terrible spasm. He grabbed his gut and doubled over, groaning. He crumpled to the floor. He went into full respiratory failure.
The woman at the desk looked at Michael. She pulled out a form and looked at Dan. “Name?” Her voice lacked any human emotion.
“Jesus!” Dan said. “Get some help!” He bent over and lifted Michael’s head off the floor.
“And the last name?” She was calm and efficient in the face of a medical emergency. A doctor passing by saw the man on the floor being attended to by a priest. Thanks to his years of rigorous training, the doctor knew this was a bad sign, healthwise, so he called for help. There was a flurry of activity as medical personnel hurried to get Michael onto a gurney.
The woman at the Admissions window called to Dan. “Excuse me, Father, did you bring this man in?” Dan stood by, dazed by what had happened so suddenly. “Father?” the woman repeated. Dan looked at the woman for a moment before realizing he was the Father in question.
“Yes. Yes, he’s my brother.”
“Is he insured?”
Not for this
, Dan thought. Before he could think of something that would get him out of what was turning into an ugly, and probably very expensive, situation, one of the nurses attending to Michael picked his pocket and held up the insurance card. “Yes!” she cried. “California Life, Platinum Coverage.”
“But—” Dan could only watch as they wheeled Michael through the swinging doors.
The Admissions woman came out from behind the window,smiling all of a sudden. She put her arm around Dan’s shoulder. “Relax, Father. He’s insured. They’ll take good care of him. Now, I just need a little information.” She sat him down and gave him some forms. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Dan filled out the paperwork, then went to the designated waiting area. He read three issues of
Newsweek
, two
Entertainment Weeklys
, and a
People
before a doctor came out. “Your brother is presenting some unusual symptoms,” the doctor said. “Dysphagia, hyperreflexia. There may be some sort of infection. We’ve got him on emergency ventilation while we’re running tests.” The doctor stood and pointed to the door. “You can see him now, if you’d like, Father. But only for a few minutes.”
Dan found his way to Room 605, a semiprivate suite that spoke well of Dan’s insurance coverage. Michael was in bed with IV lines trailing from both arms. He was sharing the room with an older man, apparently comatose, and on life support.
Dan went to Michael’s bedside. “What the hell is going on?” There was an urgency in his voice. “I thought you just needed a shot of penicillin.”
Father Michael shrugged weakly. “They think it’s more than that,” he said from under his oxygen mask.
Dan looked at the clipboard hanging at the end of the bed. He made an odd gagging sound when he saw his own name listed as patient. “Holy Kuh-rist! This was supposed to be a quick fix, a shot in the butt. The second those bastards saw you were insured, they called every specialist in the hospital. I bet you’re not even sick. They’re just running up a big tab.” He slapped Michael’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”
“I want to stay,” Father Michael said.
“Oh, jeeeeezz.” Dan sounded like he had a slow leak. He slumped onto the edge of Michael’s bed, panic setting in. Dan began to worry about getting caught, about being charged withfelony insurance fraud, about going to prison. He had to get Michael out of there.
“Don’t worry,” Michael said. “I won’t fall apart on you.” He said this despite the fact that he was having difficulty breathing.
“Attaboy.” Dan slapped him on the back.
They entered the lobby of the emergency room and approached the Admissions window. That’s when Michael had a terrible spasm. He grabbed his gut and doubled over, groaning. He crumpled to the floor. He went into full respiratory failure.
The woman at the desk looked at Michael. She pulled out a form and looked at Dan. “Name?” Her voice lacked any human emotion.
“Jesus!” Dan said. “Get some help!” He bent over and lifted Michael’s head off the floor.
“And the last name?” She was calm and efficient in the face of a medical emergency. A doctor passing by saw the man on the floor being attended to by a priest. Thanks to his years of rigorous training, the doctor knew this was a bad sign, healthwise, so he called for help. There was a flurry of activity as medical personnel hurried to get Michael onto a gurney.
The woman at the Admissions window called to Dan. “Excuse me, Father, did you bring this man in?” Dan stood by, dazed by what had happened so suddenly. “Father?” the woman repeated. Dan looked at the woman for a moment before realizing he was the Father in question.
“Yes. Yes, he’s my brother.”
“Is he insured?”
Not for this
, Dan thought. Before he could think of something that would get him out of what was turning into an ugly, and probably very expensive, situation, one of the nurses attending to Michael picked his pocket and held up the insurance card. “Yes!” she cried. “California Life, Platinum Coverage.”
“But—” Dan could only watch as they wheeled Michael through the swinging doors.
The Admissions woman came out from behind the window,smiling all of a sudden. She put her arm around Dan’s shoulder. “Relax, Father. He’s insured. They’ll take good care of him. Now, I just need a little information.” She sat him down and gave him some forms. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Dan filled out the paperwork, then went to the designated waiting area. He read three issues of
Newsweek
, two
Entertainment Weeklys
, and a
People
before a doctor came out. “Your brother is presenting some unusual symptoms,” the doctor said. “Dysphagia, hyperreflexia. There may be some sort of infection. We’ve got him on emergency ventilation while we’re running tests.” The doctor stood and pointed to the door. “You can see him now, if you’d like, Father. But only for a few minutes.”
Dan found his way to Room 605, a semiprivate suite that spoke well of Dan’s insurance coverage. Michael was in bed with IV lines trailing from both arms. He was sharing the room with an older man, apparently comatose, and on life support.
Dan went to Michael’s bedside. “What the hell is going on?” There was an urgency in his voice. “I thought you just needed a shot of penicillin.”
Father Michael shrugged weakly. “They think it’s more than that,” he said from under his oxygen mask.
Dan looked at the clipboard hanging at the end of the bed. He made an odd gagging sound when he saw his own name listed as patient. “Holy Kuh-rist! This was supposed to be a quick fix, a shot in the butt. The second those bastards saw you were insured, they called every specialist in the hospital. I bet you’re not even sick. They’re just running up a big tab.” He slapped Michael’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”
“I want to stay,” Father Michael said.
“Oh, jeeeeezz.” Dan sounded like he had a slow leak. He slumped onto the edge of Michael’s bed, panic setting in. Dan began to worry about getting caught, about being charged withfelony insurance fraud, about going to prison. He had to get Michael out of there.
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