"I want you to talk to me."
Paige groaned. "At this hour? I thought it was some kind of emergency."
"It is. I want to leave."
She shook her head. "That's impossible. You can't go home now. You couldn't get the kind of treatment—"
He interrupted her. "I don't want to go home. I want to leave."
She looked at him and said slowly, "What are you saying?"
"You know what I'm saying. The medication isn't working anymore. I can't stand this pain. I want out."
Paige leaned over and took his hand. "John, I can't do that. Let me give you some—"
"No. I'm tired, Paige. I want to go wherever it is I'm going, but I don't want to hang around here like this. Not anymore."
"John . . ."
"How much time do I have left? A few more days? I told you, I'm not good about pain. I'm lying here like a trapped animal, filled with all these goddam tubes. My body is being eaten away inside. This isn't living— it's dying. For God's sake, help me!"
He was racked by a sudden spasm of pain. When he spoke again, his voice was even weaker. "Help me . . . please ..."
Paige knew what she had to do. She had to report John Cronin's request to Dr. Benjamin Wallace. He would pass it on to the Administration Committee. They would assemble a panel of doctors to assess Cronin's condition, and then make a decision. After that, it would have to be approved by ...
"Paige . . . it's my life. Let me do with it as I like."
She looked over at the helpless figure locked in his pain.
"I'm begging you ..."
She took his hand and held it for a long time. When she spoke, she said, "All right, John. I'll do it."
He managed a trace of a smile. "I knew I could count on you."
Paige leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. "Close your eyes and go to sleep."
"Good night, Paige."
"Good night, John."
John Cronin sighed and closed his eyes, a beatific smile on his face.
Paige sat there watching him, thinking about what she was about to do. She remembered how horrified she had been on her first day of rounds with Dr. Radnor. She's been in a coma for six weeks. Her vital signs are failing. There's nothing more we can do for her. We'll pull the plug this afternoon. Was it wrong to release a fellow human being from his misery?
Slowly, as though she were moving under water, Paige rose and walked to a cabinet in the corner, where a bottle of insulin was kept for emergency use. She removed the bottle and stood there, staring at it. Then she uncapped the bottle. She filled a syringe with the insulin and walked back to John Cronin's bedside. There was still time to go back. I'm lying here like a trapped animal. . . . This isn't living—it's dying. For God's sake, help me!
Paige leaned forward and slowly injected the insulin into the IV attached to Cronin's arm.
"Sleep well," Paige whispered. She was unaware that she was sobbing.
Paige drove home and stayed awake the rest of the night, thinking about what she had done.
At six o'clock in the morning, she received a telephone call from one of the residents at the hospital.
"I'm sorry to give you bad news, Dr. Taylor. Your patient John Cronin died of cardiac arrest early this morning."
The staff doctor in charge that morning was Dr. Arthur Kane.
Chapter Thirty-one
The one other time Ken Mallory had gone to an opera, he had fallen asleep. On this night he was watching Rigoletto at the San Francisco Opera House and enjoying every minute of it. He was seated in a box with Lauren Harrison and her father. In the lobby of the opera house during intermission, Alex Harrison had introduced him to a large number of friends. "This is my future son-in-law and a brilliant doctor, Ken Mallory."
Being Alex Harrison's son-in-law was enough to make him a brilliant doctor.
After the performance, the Harrisons and Mallory went to the Fairmont Hotel for supper in the elegant main dining room. Mallory enjoyed the deferential greeting that the mattre d' gave to Alex Harrison as he led them to their booth. From now on, I'll be able to afford places like this, Mallory thought, and everyone is going to know who I am.
After they had ordered, Lauren said, "Darling, I think we should have a party to announce our engagement."
"That's a good idea!" her father said. "We'll make it a big one. What do you say, Ken?"
A warning bell sounded in Mallory's mind. An engagement party would mean publicity. I'll have to set Kat straight first. A little money should take care of that. Mallory cursed the stupid bet he had made. For a mere ten thousand dollars, his whole shining future might now be in jeopardy. He could just imagine what would happen if he tried to explain Kat to the Harrisons.
By the way, I forgot to mention that I'm already engaged to a doctor at the hospital. She's black. . . .
Or: Do you want to hear something funny? I bet the boys at the hospital ten thousand dollars I could fuck this black doctor. . . .
Or: / already have one wedding planned. . . .
No, he thought, I'll have to find a way to buy Kat off-
They were looking at Mallory expectantly.
Mallory smiled. "A party sounds like a wonderful idea."
Lauren said enthusiastically, "Good. I'll get things started. You men have no idea what it takes to give a party."
Alex Harrison turned to Mallory. "I've already started the ball rolling for you, Ken."
"Sir?"
"Gary Gitlin, the head of North Shore Hospital, is an old golf buddy of mine. I talked to him about you, he doesn't think there will be any problem about
having you affiliated with his hospital. That's quite prestigious, you know. And at the same time, I'll get you set up in your own practice."