Rules Get Broken by John Herbert Page A

before Peg or I realized he was there.
    “Mrs. Herbert,” he announced, “I’m Dr. Werner, Chief of Blood Oncology here at New York Hospital.”
    Before Peg could respond, he turned to me and gave me a quick nod, acknowledging that he was introducing himself to me as well. “Mr. Herbert.”
    We each muttered a quiet hello, almost simultaneously, and waited for him to continue. But instead of saying anything more, he opened the manila envelope containing the record of Peg’s stay at Huntington Hospital and stood next to her bed for several minutes, silently reviewing its contents.
    He was a wiry man, medium height, about five-eight, probably forty-five or fifty years old, and his hair was salt and pepper. He came across as an intense man, and from the way he skimmed through Peg’s file, I could tell that he was a man in a hurry. He didn’t smile, and he made no attempt at warmth. When he was finished, he slid the folder back into the envelope and threw the envelope down onto the bed in what I took to be a disdainful gesture.
    “So,” he began, “welcome to New York Hospital. I trust your trip in this morning was uneventful?”
    “It was fine, thank you,” Peg replied uneasily.
    “Good. Well, I see Dr. Goldstein ordered the standard range of tests. Unfortunately, we’re going to have to do most of them again so I can be absolutely certain we’re working with accurate information. I’ll try to avoid taking another bone marrow sample, because I know that’s a very uncomfortable procedure. But whether that’s possible will depend on the quality of Huntington Hospital’s slides. If they’re not as good as we need, then we’ll have to take another sample.”
    He stopped talking for a second and looked at the bandage on Peg’s shoulder. “Sometime this afternoon I’ll remove that central line. I don’t know what Dr. Goldstein had in mind when he installed it, but there’s no need for one as far as I’m concerned.”
    He looked at his watch. “It’s ten-forty now. We probably won’t be able to start any procedures until after lunch, but I’ll write up the orders now, and that should let us get started early this afternoon. If Dr. Goldstein’s diagnosis is correct, the treatment regimen, as I presume you know, will be a form of chemotherapy, which we should be able to start sometime tomorrow. Questions?”
    Somehow the tone of his voice made it clear we shouldn’t have any and that he wouldn’t be thrilled about answering them if we did. But suddenly, his behavior changed completely, almost as if controlled by a switch, and he let a small smile creep across his face as he looked down at Peg.
    “You must be very scared, Mrs. Herbert,” he said softly, “but I want you to know that you’re in one of the finest hospitals in this country staffed by some of the finest physicians in this country, and we’re going to do everything humanly possible to make certain you walk out of here a healthy lady. You just remember that, okay?”
    “I will,” Peg murmured.
    “Good. I’ll see you this afternoon then.”
    He patted her shoulder, and I found myself wondering which Dr. Werner was the real Dr. Werner. He picked up Peg’s envelope from the foot of the bed, turned around abruptly and walked towards the door.
    “Have a good day, Mr. Herbert,” he added as an obvious afterthought, and he closed the door behind him.
    Neither Peg nor I said anything for a moment or two. We just stared at the door, half expecting him to come back and continue what had been an all-too-brief introduction.
    “Well,” I finally said when it was obvious we were alone, “Mr. Personality he’s not, is he?”
    “No, he isn’t,” Peg answered with a faint smile. “But then again, that’s not why we’re here, is it? For jokes, I have you.”
    I gave a little chuckle. “Yeah, for jokes you have me. Seriously though,” I said, looking over my shoulder at the closed door, “are you okay with him?”
    “First of all,” Peg