The Final Diagnosis

“I don’t see why anybody has to get in a temper.” Pearson was still grumbling, but O’Do

“All the same, Joe, I’d like to do it my way.” I don’t want to ram it down his throat, O’Do

Pearson shrugged. “If that’s the way you want it.”

“Thanks, Joe.” O’Do

“I’ve got a lot to do. Couldn’t it wait?” As Pearson spoke, O’Do

“I don’t think it can. It’s about surgical reports.”

“What about them?” The reaction was aggressively defensive.

O’Do

“Rufus, I suppose.” Pearson was openly bitter now. You could almost hear him saying: Another surgeon causing trouble.

O’Do

For a moment Pearson made no answer, and O’Do

“Yes, I know.” Pearson’s reply held a tone of resignation. He had accepted the fact though. That was typical of him, O’Do

O’Do

“Look, Kent.” Pearson was more conciliatory now. “Just lately I’ve been up to my ears. You’ve no idea how much work there is.”

“I do have an idea, Joe.” This was the opening O’Do

The reaction was immediate, Pearson almost shouting. “You’re telling me to get more help! Why, man alive, I’ve been asking for months for more lab technicians! We need three at least, so what am I told I can have? One! And stenographers! I’ve got reports that have been piling up for weeks, and who’s going to type them?” Not waiting for an answer, he went storming on. “Me? If the administration would get off its fa

O’Do

“Yeah.” Pearson seemed chastened, half ashamed at his outburst.

“It wasn’t technicians or office staff I was thinking about,” O’Do

“Now look here!” at the word “modernize” Pearson had bridled, but O’Do

“I don’t need another pathologist.” It was a flat statement, vehement and uncompromising. “Why, Joe?”

“Because there’s not enough work for two qualified men. I can handle all the pathology myself—without any help. Besides, I’ve already got a resident in the department.”

O’Do

“Let me be the judge of that. Give me a few days and we’ll be caught up in surgicals.”

It was obvious that Joe Pearson had no intention of giving way. O’Do

“Joe, there’s no question of any major change. No one has suggested it. You’d still be in charge . . .”

“In that case let me run Pathology my own way.”

O’Do

“There’s nothing to think over.” Pearson was at the door. He nodded curtly and went out.

So there it is, O’Do

Five

The cafeteria of Three Counties Hospital was a traditional meeting place for most of the hospital grapevine, its stems and branches extending tenuously to every section and department within Three Counties’ walls. Few events occurred in the hospital—promotions, scandals, firings, and hirings—which were not known and discussed in the cafeteria long before official word was ever published.

Medical staff frequently used the cafeteria for “curbstone consultations” with colleagues whom they seldom saw except at a meal or coffee break. Indeed, a good deal of serious medical business was transacted over its tables, and weighty specialist opinions, which at other times would be followed by a substantial bill, were often tossed out freely, sometimes to the great advantage of a patient who, recovering later from some ailment which at first had proven troublesome, would never suspect the somewhat casual cha

There were exceptions. A few staff physicians now and then resented this informal use of their arduously acquired talйnts and resisted attempts by colleagues to draw them out in the discussion of specific cases. In such instances the usual rejoinder was, “I think we’d better set up a consultation in my office. I’ll have the meter ru