Silent Fear, a Medical Mystery by Barbara Ebel

the volume of the overhead monitor. “Sure, Dr. Tilson.”
    “I’m going to write some orders, hopefully get the neurologist, Timothy Paltrow, to consult on Dr. Harold Jackowitz. In the meantime, please get me a spinal tap tray and gloves. Get respiratory therapy, too, so we have an extra pair of hands for positioning him on his side and watching his endotracheal tube and ventilator connections.”

Marsha almost made it to the door when Danny added, “In addition, I’d like you to put a sign on the door for infection precautions. Please have someone roll the shelf underneath it with masks and gloves for anyone that enters this room. Be sure to don up yourself.”
    She scurried off and when she returned with a respiratory therapist, they rolled Harold onto his side and Danny prepped his back with a bactericidal agent. With sterile gloves, he felt Harold’s lumbar intervertebral discs and slid a thin spinal needle between two of them. Harold’s cerebrospinal fluid drained easily and Danny allowed it to drip into the kit’s sterile vials. The humdrum of the ventilator drowned out the silence.
    “Thanks everyone,” Danny said when they rolled Harold flat on the bed again. Danny stood quietly for a second. His colleague already showed signs of ICU breakdown with IV marks on his arms and a pasty color.
    “Marsha, I’m taking this straight to the lab myself,” Danny said, snapping back to his task at hand. He ran down several flights of stairs to the first floor laboratory and went straight back, ignoring the boxes where samples were delivered like mail.
    A college-aged man stood at a centrifuge and looked over at Danny. “Can I help you?”
    “I’m Dr. Tilson. Can you do me a stat analysis on CSF?”
    “I’ll take care of it before anything else Dr. Tilson, but it still takes time for the results.”
    “Thanks, I understand,” Danny said and left with urgency.
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    Coffee and Casey would have to wait. Dr. Lucy Talbot now took priority. Danny scoured the ER board looking for her name. He twisted his hands hoping at least she wasn’t in room 5 like Harold had been. She wasn’t, but he scowled at himself thinking a room could harbor bad luck.
    No one was in room 7 with Lucy. It’s down time , Danny thought, between being seen, poked and prodded upon, and the results of what they thought and where they’d send her. He shook his head because he was one of them. However, the way hospital employees were dropping in as patients, he could soon also find himself on the other side of medical care.
    A crumpled sheet covered Lucy from her waist down, the stretcher at a forty-five degree angle. The little woman’s arms hung from her shoulders like they barely belonged and her eyes protruded like a frog’s. Although they were open, she didn’t seem to register Danny’s entrance.
    “Lucy,” Danny whispered up close.
    A guttural sound came from her throat, but most of what came next was juicy saliva. How could someone who appeared dry be that wet in their mouth, Danny wondered. He walked to the counter for a wash cloth. He dabbed Lucy’s mouth and chin and then pulled the moisture into the towel. Dr. Talbot closed her eyes and sunk further into the pillow.
    When Danny returned to the desk, the two ER docs were both seeing patients. Since he couldn’t talk to them, he took Lucy’s chart and scribbled a quick note inserting his name into the case. He wrote consults for Bill Patogue and Timothy Paltrow to also come on board with her care, and wrote for an MRI ASAP of her head.
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    Danny didn’t have much time before meeting Bill. He dodged down the hall to the coffee room, but what remained at the bottom of the pot resembled silt. After rummaging below, he stuck a filter in the pot and scooped his choice of French roast into the top. While the water did its magic, Danny poked his head outside, and glanced up and down the hallway. Casey’s ambulance was out back.
    The hot coffee charged his senses as