Obsessed by G. H. Ephron

seated position. Uncle Jack looked down into his lap and moaned.
    It was Dr. Pullaski who steamed in moments later. Uncle Jack drew back as she scrutinized his face. Gently she picked up his wrist and took his pulse.
    â€œWe should have sedated him beforehand, but we had no idea he was so volatile,” she said.
    â€œMr. O’Neill hasn’t been volatile,” Emily said. “Not until just now.”
    Dr. Pullaski barely acknowledged that Emily had spoken. She’d taken out a hypodermic syringe. Efficiently she pushed up the arm of Uncle Jack’s gown, swabbed the flesh, and jabbed. Slowly she depressed the plunger. In moments, Uncle Jack’s shoulders and face had relaxed as any residual agitation smoothed over.
    Dr. Pullaski put a stethoscope to Uncle Jack’s chest and listened. She sent Emily off for oxygen.
    Philbrick crossed to the sink and ran water into a basin. He snapped on some latex gloves. Gently, he washed Uncle Jack’s legs and in between with a sponge, then took a towel and dried. He helped Uncle Jack into a fresh hospital gown. While he was wiping the table Emily returned pushing a handcart holding a cylinder of oxygen.
    â€œThis will help you breathe,” Philbrick said, showing Uncle Jack the face mask. Uncle Jack recoiled. Philbrick held the mask an inch from his own mouth and breathed, showing Uncle Jack how it worked. Then gently, he held the mask over Uncle Jack’s mouth.
    â€œJust breathe and try to relax,” he said. “That’s right, deep breaths.” Philbrick strapped the mask around Uncle Jack’s head.
    Dr. Pullaski and Philbrick talked quietly. They both looked toward the window at Annie and me. Then they left Emily with Uncle Jack and came through into the control room.
    â€œDr. Zak, isn’t this your patient?” Dr. Pullaski asked. “You should have warned us. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how much better it is when we can anticipate these things.”
    It had been a judgment call. Kwan and I had discussed it, and we both felt sedation unnecessary. Plus, a sedative might have made Uncle Jack less responsive to the test protocol. Though I didn’t like to admit it, Annie’s aversion to Uncle Jack being sedated had weighed in. With twenty-twenty hindsight, it was clear that I’d made an error.
    â€œWe’re ready to try again,” Philbrick said.
    â€œYou’re kidding,” Annie said, looking incredulous.
    â€œWith the sedation your uncle will be fine,” Dr. Pullaski said.
    â€œAre you nuts?” Annie said.
    Uncle Jack’s head jerked around. Philbrick put his hand over the microphone.
    I knew it was standard operating procedure not to let family observe these kinds of procedures for this very reason. It hadn’t gone smoothly, and now Annie’s concern for her uncle was swamping her judgment about what was best for him.
    Philbrick gave me a look that said, This was your idea. Now fix it . “Annie, think about why you’re here,” I said. “This machine is the only one that can do this kind of testing. We may get a diagnosis. Maybe even a treatment.”
    â€œAnd what if he has a heart attack or a stroke in there?”
    â€œWe’ll be monitoring him. If he becomes upset again, we’ll stop,” Philbrick said.
    â€œIt’ll be over before you know it,” I added.
    â€œBut—” Annie started, tears building behind her wall of anger.
    â€œMiss Squires,” Dr. Pullaski said gently, “Dr. Shands and I have been doing this work for more than a decade. We test patients like your uncle every day of the week. This is very routine. Your uncle is going to be fine. Just let us do our jobs.”
    We had her surrounded—three against one. It wasn’t fair, but it was the right thing to do. Finally she agreed.
    Philbrick went back into the scan room and listened to Uncle Jack’s chest. He removed the oxygen mask and Emily