six-eight frame was about average for the NBA, but it was semi-freak anywhere else. His height always drew fascinated glances.
"I'm fine," Sara said, hugging him tightly.
"Reece, thanks for going with him."
Reece shrugged.
"He's my friend," he said simply.
"And don't worry too much about Mikey. The man is blessed. Remember how scared we were the last time we met in a hospital? All that blood and everything?"
Sara did. Every year when basketball season ended, she and Michael had joined Reece and his Eurasian wife Kureen for a getaway-from-it-all vacation. Five years ago, when Michael and Sara were first getting serious, the four decided to charter a small cruise boat out of Florida and explore the Keys and the Bahamas. The past basketball season had been a particularly long one, ending when the Knicks bested the Seattle Supersonics in a grueling, bruising seven-game showdown. All four of them had been anxious to escape the world, the fans, and the press.
On the third day of the voyage Michael and Reece had gotten up early, hired a kid with a speed boat, and gone water-skiing.
The kid had gotten drunk and crashed the boat into a rock formation while Michael was on the water-skis. He had been rushed to a local Bahamian hospital, bleeding heavily, and spent the next three weeks in bed.
"I remember," Sara said softly.
"But Mikey is as one of the rookies would say a tough old dude. He'll be okay."
Sara tried to take solace in Recce's words, but something kept jabbing at the back of her mind, telling her that he was not going to be okay, that nothing was ever going to be okay again.
"what's going on?" Harvey asked.
The young resident with the name tag John Richardson looked up and spoke with quick precision.
"We're not sure yet. He's suffering severe abdominal pain. Physical examination is remarkable for the liver being palpable four centimeters below the right costal margin. It's extremely tender."
"Hurts like hell is more like it," Michael managed from his prone position on the table.
"Vital signs?"
"All stable."
Harvey moved toward the bed.
"Looking good, champ."
"Feel like shit, coach."
"I was only kidding. You look like shit too."
Michael managed a chuckle.
"I got the varsity in here now.
How's it going, Eric?"
"Fine. Should I page Dr. Sagarel, Harv?"
Harvey nodded.
"See you in a bit, Mike," Eric said.
"I'll wait here for you." Michael turned his attention back to Harvey.
"Who is Dr. Sagarel?"
"A gastroenterologist."
"Of course. I should have known."
"Jesus, Michael, look at your shorts. They're horrendous even by your standards."
"I ask for a doctor. I get a fashion critic."
Harvey probed the liver area.
"Does that hurt?"
"Like a son of a bitch."
Harvey straightened his back and turned toward the resident.
"Have you done the blood work yet?"
"Yes."
"Get him an abdominal flat plate done stat."
"I'll also need to get a better history," Richardson said.
"It could be something he consumed "
"Can't be. He's had this pain for weeks. And his skin is jaundiced."
Eric came back into the room.
"Dr. Sagarel will be here in about a half hour." "Michael," Harvey asked, "have you noticed anything unusual in your urine lately?"
"A Datson hatchback came out the other day."
"Hilarious. Now answer my question."
Harvey saw the fear gather around Michael's eyes.
"I don't know. The color's been darker maybe."
The doctor's exchanged knowing glances.
"What?" Michael asked.
"What have I got?"
"I don't know yet. Eric, make sure they do a Hep screen on the blood.
Also EBV and CMV titers. Then bring him down for an abdominal ultrasound."
"One step ahead of you."
"Now in English?" Michael asked.
"All the signs point to hepatitis," Harvey explained.
"Eric and Dr. Richardson are going to take you downstairs for x-rays now, I'll see you in a little while."
Dr. Raymond Markey, Assistant Secretary for Health of the Department of Health and Human Services, stared out the window at the lush green
"I'm fine," Sara said, hugging him tightly.
"Reece, thanks for going with him."
Reece shrugged.
"He's my friend," he said simply.
"And don't worry too much about Mikey. The man is blessed. Remember how scared we were the last time we met in a hospital? All that blood and everything?"
Sara did. Every year when basketball season ended, she and Michael had joined Reece and his Eurasian wife Kureen for a getaway-from-it-all vacation. Five years ago, when Michael and Sara were first getting serious, the four decided to charter a small cruise boat out of Florida and explore the Keys and the Bahamas. The past basketball season had been a particularly long one, ending when the Knicks bested the Seattle Supersonics in a grueling, bruising seven-game showdown. All four of them had been anxious to escape the world, the fans, and the press.
On the third day of the voyage Michael and Reece had gotten up early, hired a kid with a speed boat, and gone water-skiing.
The kid had gotten drunk and crashed the boat into a rock formation while Michael was on the water-skis. He had been rushed to a local Bahamian hospital, bleeding heavily, and spent the next three weeks in bed.
"I remember," Sara said softly.
"But Mikey is as one of the rookies would say a tough old dude. He'll be okay."
Sara tried to take solace in Recce's words, but something kept jabbing at the back of her mind, telling her that he was not going to be okay, that nothing was ever going to be okay again.
"what's going on?" Harvey asked.
The young resident with the name tag John Richardson looked up and spoke with quick precision.
"We're not sure yet. He's suffering severe abdominal pain. Physical examination is remarkable for the liver being palpable four centimeters below the right costal margin. It's extremely tender."
"Hurts like hell is more like it," Michael managed from his prone position on the table.
"Vital signs?"
"All stable."
Harvey moved toward the bed.
"Looking good, champ."
"Feel like shit, coach."
"I was only kidding. You look like shit too."
Michael managed a chuckle.
"I got the varsity in here now.
How's it going, Eric?"
"Fine. Should I page Dr. Sagarel, Harv?"
Harvey nodded.
"See you in a bit, Mike," Eric said.
"I'll wait here for you." Michael turned his attention back to Harvey.
"Who is Dr. Sagarel?"
"A gastroenterologist."
"Of course. I should have known."
"Jesus, Michael, look at your shorts. They're horrendous even by your standards."
"I ask for a doctor. I get a fashion critic."
Harvey probed the liver area.
"Does that hurt?"
"Like a son of a bitch."
Harvey straightened his back and turned toward the resident.
"Have you done the blood work yet?"
"Yes."
"Get him an abdominal flat plate done stat."
"I'll also need to get a better history," Richardson said.
"It could be something he consumed "
"Can't be. He's had this pain for weeks. And his skin is jaundiced."
Eric came back into the room.
"Dr. Sagarel will be here in about a half hour." "Michael," Harvey asked, "have you noticed anything unusual in your urine lately?"
"A Datson hatchback came out the other day."
"Hilarious. Now answer my question."
Harvey saw the fear gather around Michael's eyes.
"I don't know. The color's been darker maybe."
The doctor's exchanged knowing glances.
"What?" Michael asked.
"What have I got?"
"I don't know yet. Eric, make sure they do a Hep screen on the blood.
Also EBV and CMV titers. Then bring him down for an abdominal ultrasound."
"One step ahead of you."
"Now in English?" Michael asked.
"All the signs point to hepatitis," Harvey explained.
"Eric and Dr. Richardson are going to take you downstairs for x-rays now, I'll see you in a little while."
Dr. Raymond Markey, Assistant Secretary for Health of the Department of Health and Human Services, stared out the window at the lush green
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