Error in Diagnosis by Mason Lucas M. D. Page B

a weighty sigh, he said, “Good night. Let’s talk in the morning.”
    She watched as the slump-shouldered chief executive made his way across the lawn and past the Rose Garden. She suspected there were things Kellar had left unsaid because that was his style when facing difficult problems. But she knew the events of the meeting at the War College weighed heavily upon him. She was also sure they shared the same dreaded fear: If GNS was an act of biological terror, it could easily become the greatest medical catastrophe in modern history.

22

    Although it had only been four years since the ribbon-cutting ceremony, the Stenson Family Children’s Hospital had matured into an outstanding facility. An eight-story architectural triumph, the hospital incorporated multiple inspirational themes that successfully captured what modern children’s hospitals strove to achieve. Its construction would not have been possible without the efforts of Southeastern State University’s charitable foundation, which had raised ninety million dollars for the project. Although Madison served on many hospital committees, she was most proud of being asked to serve on the foundation’s board of directors.
    Avoiding the packed waiting room, Madison led Jack into the emergency room through the staff entrance. Having been there several times to consult on teenage high-risk pregnancies, she was familiar with the ER’slayout. Jack, on the other hand, could barely remember the last time he’d been in a children’s hospital. The voices of harried personnel barking orders while wailing children clutched at their parents was a stark reminder to Jack why he never gave serious thought to going into pediatrics.
    Following Madison down a hallway crowded with equipment and staff, he glanced back and forth into the examination rooms. Not a single one was empty, and the patients spanned the gamut from infancy to adolescence. Approaching the nursing station, they walked past a six-bed pod specially designed for the treatment of asthma. Even from the hall, his eyes fixed on the anxious face of a father cradling his squirming daughter. He struggled to hold a plastic mask that spewed a medicated aerosol over her mouth and nose.
    Just as they reached the central station, Linda Haise, a veteran nurse with a skeletal frame and a pair of tortoiseshell reading glasses that teetered on the tip of her nose, emerged from the trauma treatment area.
    â€œHi, Dr. Shaw. I heard they called you to come to see Isabella Rosas.”
    Madison nodded. “How’s she doing?”
    â€œNot great. Her vital signs have been all over the place and she’s pretty out of it. When the paramedics first brought her in we thought she had suffered an unwitnessed head injury, but when we saw the dancing eye syndrome . . . well, it didn’t take too long to figure out she was the first case of pediatric GNS.”
    â€œIs Dr. Effratus still in there?”
    â€œYeah,” she said, brushing a few obstinate strands ofauburn hair from her forehead. “When I left the room a few minutes ago, he was still scratching his head. Sam’s been in there with her for a while,” she said. A nurse’s aide walked up and handed Linda a printout of lab results. “I gotta go. I have a two-year-old who decided to eat his toy soldiers and their cannons for dinner. I think it’s affecting his digestion.”
    â€œThat sounds terrible,” Madison said.
    â€œThere are a lot worse things. I’m sure if we wait a day or so the entire army and their artillery will come out in the wash.”
    Madison and Jack made their way down to Isabella’s room. When they were a few feet away, they noticed a sign on the door indicating isolation precautions. They each slipped on latex gloves, a yellow paper gown and a mask.
    Dr. Samuel Effratus was hunched over the bed listening to Isabella’s heart. He was a placid man who