Pool_2

The young girl's parents, nearly deathlike with the fear of their daughter being possibly further disabled by the loss of her arm, hung on the doctor's every syllable as he met them to relate that things had gone well. How well? There was still some muscle testing that would determine if all her median nerve function had returned. For sure, the ulnar nerve was recovered, and the radial nerve seemed spared. It would take time to see how well her index finger and thumb would do. The anterior interosseus nerve branch was still in question. That might take a few months. They turned to specifics. Can she use crutches? Play in Special Olympics? The doctor shifted gears for them from soothe saying to immediate needs. They were disciplined in danger signs of circulatory compromise down to the minutest subtleties. Mother and father would stay with her in her hospital room and keep watch, supplementing the nurses and pediatric residents. False alarms were better than missed alarms. That night, barely home, he got two calls from two high ranking administrative doctors whose pretexts were that they wanted to know what exactly had gone on in the O.R.. It was clear that this was a prelude to a process. Some process, a done deal. He was, after all, "yelling in front of parents" scaring them to death in an "unprofessional" manner according to Doctor Kauravas who Macaluso called Ming One, which Kauravas didn't get at all. Right now this bringer of darkness to light was in his typical way eclipsing reality with embellished accusations. Macaluso was droning, "Yes, oh great shadow," as the caller pointed out that once again, as is in his record so many times, he had not spoken to a colleague, Dr. Fischbein, in a collegial way. "Let me get this right, my Darkness, you have my hospital record - at your home? Let me guess, you jack off to it. You could go blind doing that, Kauravas. But if you