eight.
As they walked down the corridor, Marissa realized that none of the rooms they were passing were occupied. When she looked closer, she realized that most weren't even fully furnished. And the walls of the hall had only been primed, not painted.
Dr. Taboso noticed Marissa's expression. "Sorry," he said. "I should have explained. When the hospital was built, too many beds were planned. Consequently, the eighth floor was never completed. But we decided to use it for this emergency. Good for isolation, don't you agree?"
They arrived at the nurses' station, which seemed complete except for the cabinetry. Marissa took the first patient's chart. She sat down at the desk and opened the metal cover, noting the man's name:
Zabriski. The vital-sign page showed the familiar complex of high fever and low blood pressure. The next page contained the patient's history. As Marissa's eyes ran down the sheet, she caught the man's full name: Dr. Carl M. Zabriski. Raising her eyes to Dr. Taboso, she asked incredulously, "Is the patient a physician?"
"I'm afraid so," answered Taboso. "He's an ophthalmologist here at the hospital."
Turning to Dr. Austin, she asked, "Did you know the index case in L.A. was also a doctor? In fact he was an ophthalmologist!"
"I was aware of the coincidence," said Dr. Austin, frowning.
"Does Dr. Zabriski do any research with monkeys?" asked Marissa. "Not that I know of," answered Dr. Taboso. "Certainly not here at the hospital."
"No other physicians were involved in the L.A. outbreak that I can recall," said Dr. Austin.
"No," said Marissa. "Just the index case. There were three lab techs and one nurse, but no other doctors."
Redirecting her attention to the chart, Marissa went through it rapidly. The history was not nearly as complete as that done on Dr. Richter at the Richter Clinic. There were no references to recent travel or animal contact. But the lab workup was impressive, and although not all the tests were back, those that were suggested severe liver and kidney involvement. So far everything was consistent with Ebola Hemorrhagic Fever.
After Marissa finished with the chart, she got together the materials necessary for drawing and packing viral samples. When all was ready, she went down the hall with one of the nurses to the isolation area. There she donned hood, mask, gloves, goggles and booties.
Inside Zabriski's room, two other women were similarly attired. One was a nurse, the other a doctor.
"How is the patient doing?" asked Marissa as she moved alongside the bed. It was a rhetorical question. The patient's condition was apparent. The first thing Marissa noticed was the rash over the man's trunk. The second thing was signs of hemorrhage; a nasogastric tube snaked out of the man's nostril and was filled with bright red blood. Dr. Zabriski was conscious, but just barely. He certainly couldn't answer any questions.
A short conversation with the attending physician confirmed Marissa's impressions. The patient had been deteriorating throughout the day, particularly during the last hour, when they began to see a progressive fall in the blood pressure.
Marissa had seen enough. Clinically, the patient resembled Dr. Richter to a horrifying degree. Until proven otherwise, it had to be assumed that Dr. Zabriski and the other two subsequent admissions had Ebola Hemorrhagic Fever.
The nurse helped Marissa obtain a nasal swab as well as blood and urine samples. Marissa handled them as she'd done in L.A., double bagging the material and disinfecting the outsides of the bags with sodium hypochlorite. After removing her protective clothing and
washing her hands, she returned to the nurses' station to call Dubchek.
The phone conversation was short and to the point. Marissa said that it was her clinical impression that they were dealing with an-other Ebola outbreak.
"What about isolation?"
"They've done a good job in that regard," reported Marissa.
"We'll be there as soon as possible," said
As they walked down the corridor, Marissa realized that none of the rooms they were passing were occupied. When she looked closer, she realized that most weren't even fully furnished. And the walls of the hall had only been primed, not painted.
Dr. Taboso noticed Marissa's expression. "Sorry," he said. "I should have explained. When the hospital was built, too many beds were planned. Consequently, the eighth floor was never completed. But we decided to use it for this emergency. Good for isolation, don't you agree?"
They arrived at the nurses' station, which seemed complete except for the cabinetry. Marissa took the first patient's chart. She sat down at the desk and opened the metal cover, noting the man's name:
Zabriski. The vital-sign page showed the familiar complex of high fever and low blood pressure. The next page contained the patient's history. As Marissa's eyes ran down the sheet, she caught the man's full name: Dr. Carl M. Zabriski. Raising her eyes to Dr. Taboso, she asked incredulously, "Is the patient a physician?"
"I'm afraid so," answered Taboso. "He's an ophthalmologist here at the hospital."
Turning to Dr. Austin, she asked, "Did you know the index case in L.A. was also a doctor? In fact he was an ophthalmologist!"
"I was aware of the coincidence," said Dr. Austin, frowning.
"Does Dr. Zabriski do any research with monkeys?" asked Marissa. "Not that I know of," answered Dr. Taboso. "Certainly not here at the hospital."
"No other physicians were involved in the L.A. outbreak that I can recall," said Dr. Austin.
"No," said Marissa. "Just the index case. There were three lab techs and one nurse, but no other doctors."
Redirecting her attention to the chart, Marissa went through it rapidly. The history was not nearly as complete as that done on Dr. Richter at the Richter Clinic. There were no references to recent travel or animal contact. But the lab workup was impressive, and although not all the tests were back, those that were suggested severe liver and kidney involvement. So far everything was consistent with Ebola Hemorrhagic Fever.
After Marissa finished with the chart, she got together the materials necessary for drawing and packing viral samples. When all was ready, she went down the hall with one of the nurses to the isolation area. There she donned hood, mask, gloves, goggles and booties.
Inside Zabriski's room, two other women were similarly attired. One was a nurse, the other a doctor.
"How is the patient doing?" asked Marissa as she moved alongside the bed. It was a rhetorical question. The patient's condition was apparent. The first thing Marissa noticed was the rash over the man's trunk. The second thing was signs of hemorrhage; a nasogastric tube snaked out of the man's nostril and was filled with bright red blood. Dr. Zabriski was conscious, but just barely. He certainly couldn't answer any questions.
A short conversation with the attending physician confirmed Marissa's impressions. The patient had been deteriorating throughout the day, particularly during the last hour, when they began to see a progressive fall in the blood pressure.
Marissa had seen enough. Clinically, the patient resembled Dr. Richter to a horrifying degree. Until proven otherwise, it had to be assumed that Dr. Zabriski and the other two subsequent admissions had Ebola Hemorrhagic Fever.
The nurse helped Marissa obtain a nasal swab as well as blood and urine samples. Marissa handled them as she'd done in L.A., double bagging the material and disinfecting the outsides of the bags with sodium hypochlorite. After removing her protective clothing and
washing her hands, she returned to the nurses' station to call Dubchek.
The phone conversation was short and to the point. Marissa said that it was her clinical impression that they were dealing with an-other Ebola outbreak.
"What about isolation?"
"They've done a good job in that regard," reported Marissa.
"We'll be there as soon as possible," said
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