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I always strived to be accurate, above reproach at work. But this situation demanded perfection in more than just my bedside manner.
I was going to get Davis Freaking Hardcastle well again, no matter what it took.
Dr. Donaldson looked up as I walked into the main lab. “How’s the patient?”
“Scared,” I said, and instantly kicked myself. That wasn’t personally identifying information protected by HIPAA, and Dr. Donaldson was as much Davis’s doctor as I was while he was in our unit. But it still felt like a violation, like I was undermining Davis.
He hadn’t told me that. I could easily be projecting my own emotions onto the situation—because now that I didn’t have to maintain a brave front for Davis’s sake, all I wanted to do was crawl under a desk and bawl.
But that would not make Davis any less sick. “Have we ruled out common powders, baking soda—?” As soon as I said it, I heard how dumb it sounded. Obviously he’d do that.
“Yes. Not baking soda, not baking powder, not cornstarch or flour. He’s lucky we have a biosafety level two lab on site,” Dr. Donaldson continued.
“Lucky is not the word I’d use.”
Dr. Donaldson looked up, frowning.
I refocused the conversation on getting Davis well. “Gram stain?”
“Done.” He met my eyes. “Positive.”
My gut took a dive while my brain ran through the Gram-positive bacteria genera—well, the mnemonic device I taught new residents. MACDONALD:Mycobacteriumspecies,Anthracis/Bacillus,Clostridiumspecies, DiphtherialCorynebacterium,Nocardia, Actinomycetes,Listeria, Diphtheroids. A cavalcade of medical emergencies, which definitely includedB. anthracis: anthrax.
“I’m guessing you’ve got the nasal swab cultured? Resistance tests?”
Dr. Donaldson nodded. “It’ll be a while before there’s anything to look at. And,” he said, cutting off my next question, “I’ve already sent a sample to the state lab.”
Of course he had; that was protocol for an incident like this. But it still made the threat feel more real. “What are the odds... ?” I didn’t dare put the rest into words.
Dr. Donaldson shrugged. “It would be a first for me. But I can’t rule it out.”
“Right.” I swallowed the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Davis Hardcastle, our coworker—our friend—had been the victim of a bioterror attack right in our hospital, and Dr. Donaldson wasshrugging? It was taking everything I had not to startshrieking.
If Dr. Donaldson noticed my angst, he said nothing, turning back to his computer.
He couldn’t be working on had anything to do with Davis—we were still waiting on results, right? But I couldn’t fathom impassively staring at my computer screen like someone I cared about wasn’t going through a major crisis two doors away.
There was nothing I could do for Davis in his room or in the lab or anywhere else right now. The only thing I could do at the moment was put more doors between us.
As a double precaution—and to get out of my sweaty clothes—I changed into a fresh coat and scrubs before I headed in for an extra round of rounds. Patient care was soothing in some ways, but my mind kept wandering back to the lab and isolation rooms.
To Davis. All alone.
I had to do more.
It could have been from four hours ofAncient Aliens, but by dinnertime, I was slowly losing my mind.
Maybe it was a good thing they had quarantined my phone and computer for decontamination, because I could guarantee I would’ve been doom scrolling the CDC’s website for any scrap of information about biological attack pathogen testing and treatment. As it was, TV wasn’t enough of a distraction to keep me from spelunking in the recesses of my memory for the tables and documents I’d spent months updating.
Finally, I clicked the button to turn off the TV. It was just noise at this point, and I didn’t need any more noise than I already had in my head.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. After six. Shift change had come and gone, and of course no nurse would be gowning up to check on me. If they even remembered I was here. I rubbed my throat. Was it my imagination, or was it a little scratchy? I tentatively cleared it, but I couldn’t be sure.
What were the initial symptoms of inhalation anthrax? Surely they didn’t start within five hours of exposure.
This was as bad as the last pandemic.
At my apartment, I would have hit the gym to keep my mind off... everything. The idea of... what, running in place here? Didn’t exactly thrill me.
