Robin Cook by Mindbend Page A

few seconds Jennifer was paralyzed. Then she lunged for the nurse’s call button and pressed it repeatedly. Cheryl still had not moved. Abandoning the call button, Jennifer dashed to the door and frantically called for help. Marlene appeared almost immediately and pushed past Jennifer, who flattened herself against the wall of the corridor,her hands pressed to her mouth. Several other hospital nurses rushed into the room. Then someone ran out and issued an emergency page over the previously silent PA system.
    Jennifer felt someone take her arm. “Mrs. Schonberg. Can you tell us what happened?”
    Jennifer turned to face Marlene. There was blood on the side of the nurse’s cheek. Jennifer peered into the room. They were giving Cheryl mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
    â€œWe were talking,” said Jennifer. “She didn’t complain about anything. She just sounded drunk. When she tried to get out of bed, she collapsed and then there was all that blood.”
    Several doctors, including Dr. Stephenson, ran down the hallway and into Cheryl’s room. Soon another doctor arrived with what looked like an anesthesia machine. Marlene helped him maneuver it into the room, leaving Jennifer alone. Jennifer leaned against the wall, feeling dizzy. She was vaguely aware of other patients standing in the doorways of their rooms.
    Two orderlies appeared with a gurney. A moment later Jennifer saw Cheryl for the last time as she was taken back to the treatment room. She had a black anesthesia mask clasped over her shockingly pale face. At least a dozen people were grouped around her shouting orders.
    â€œAre you all right?” asked Marlene, suddenly appearing in front of Jennifer.
    â€œI think so,” said Jennifer. Her voice was flat, like Dr. Stephenson’s. “What’s wrong with Cheryl?”
    â€œI don’t think anybody knows yet,” said Marlene.
    â€œShe’ll be all right,” said Jennifer, more as a statement than a question.
    â€œDr. Stephenson is one of the very best,” saidMarlene. “Why don’t you come to the lounge across from the nurses’ station. I don’t want you sitting by yourself.”
    â€œMy bag is in Cheryl’s room,” said Jennifer.
    â€œYou wait here. I’ll get it,” said Marlene.
    After retrieving it, Marlene took Jennifer to the lounge and offered her something to drink, but Jennifer assured her that she was fine.
    â€œDo you know what they’re going to do?” asked Jennifer, not certain she wanted to hear the answer.
    â€œThat’s up to the doctors,” said Marlene. “They’ll certainly take out the fetus. Other than that, I don’t know.”
    â€œIs the baby causing this bleeding?”
    â€œMost likely. Both the bleeding and the shock. That’s why they have to get it out.”
    Making Jennifer promise to call if she needed anything, Marlene went back to work. Every few minutes, though, she would wave to Jennifer and Jennifer would wave back.
    Jennifer had never liked hospitals, and this present experience confirmed her long-standing aversion. She checked her watch. It was three-twenty.
    Almost an hour passed before Dr. Stephenson reappeared. His hair was matted across his forehead, his face drawn. Jennifer’s heart skipped a beat.
    â€œWe did the best we could,” he said, sitting opposite her.
    â€œIs she . . .” began Jennifer, feeling as if she were watching a soap opera.
    Dr. Stephenson nodded. “She’s dead. We couldn’t save her. She had DIC, or diffuse intravascular coagulation. It’s a condition that we don’t really understand too well, but it is occasionally associated with abortions. We’ve only had one othercase here at the Julian, and fortunately the patient did well. With Cheryl, however, the situation was complicated by uncontrollable hemorrhaging. Even if we had been able to resuscitate her, I’m afraid she would