Lethal Remedy by Richard Mabry Page A

may be entirely different when this is all over."

 

 

After three sharp taps on the exam room door, it opened just wide enough for Verna to peep in. "Dr. Ramsey, there's a Dr. Wilcox here to see you."

John didn't look away from the man who perched on the edge of the exam table. "Have him wait in the doctors' dictation room. I'll be out in a minute."

He waited until the door closed before he continued. "Sorry. As I said, your blood pressure's a bit high, but I think we can get it under control. I want you to see our dietitian. If you can lose twenty pounds, odds are that the pressure will come right back down."

The man's face fell at the mention of a diet. He frowned. "Why don't you just put me on some pills?"

John had heard this a hundred times, but he tried to make his reply sound fresh. "Pills shouldn't be a permanent solution. They're great to attack the problem acutely, and I'll probably put you on something for now, but you need to be concerned with your long-term health." He went on to mention the benefits of a healthy lifestyle, but as the patient's eyes began to glaze over, John decided not to fight the battle right then. There'd be plenty of opportunities later.

"Get dressed and meet Verna outside. She'll have a prescription for your medication. She'll also set up an appointment with the dietitian. I want to see you back in three weeks, and we'll see what your blood pressure is then." The patient smiled, but it vanished when John added, "And we'll check to see how much weight you've lost."

John paused at the door and asked the same question he'd been asking patients for forty years: "Are there any questions I've left unanswered?" There rarely were, but it never hurt to ask.

After giving Verna a few instructions, John moved to the dictation cubicles where he found Mark Wilcox thumbing through a journal. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Not at all. I'm just reading this paper by Jack Ingersoll. It's a preliminary report on the use of Jandramycin to treat Staph luciferus sepsis." Mark put the journal aside. "Isn't he on the faculty here?"

"Yes, he's head of the Infectious Disease section and apparently quite a rising star. I heard the other day that he's about to be fast-tracked to full professor."

"Well, someday maybe I can meet the great man, or at least touch the hem of his garment."

John frowned. "You sound a little bitter."

Mark pulled a ballpoint pen from his pocket and began clicking it. "I'm not sure that's it so much as just cynical. At the time the article was submitted, he'd treated thirty-two patients with Staph luciferus sepsis with 100 percent cure and no side effects. John, we both know that the medication doesn't exist that has both those qualities. It either works most of the time and is very safe, or is effective all the time but there are risks. Call me a doubter, but I won't believe this until I see the work duplicated by another investigator."

"Let's see." John picked up the journal and found the paper in question. "Accepted for publication . . . hmm. They must have rushed this into publication, because it was accepted only three months ago, so the figures have to be fairly fresh."

A hushed, earnest conversation just outside the door made John turn to look. Rip Pearson was talking with Sara Miles. "Well, you're in luck. There are a couple of people who should be able to give you a little insight."

John stuck his head into the hall and waited for a lull in the conversation. "Rip, do you have just a second?"

There was a moment for an exchange of the usual pleasantries. Then John asked, "Rip, how many patients are in the Jandramycin study now?"

Rip took a deep breath and let it out as a barely audible sigh. "You know, based on what I've heard this morning, I couldn't begin to hazard a guess."

 

 

Sara stirred her chef 's salad and speared a small piece of tomato. "Mark, it was nice of you to take us all to lunch." Mark made a deprecating gesture. If you only knew how happy I am