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“I’m busy with Dr. O’Do
“I told him that, Mr. Tomaselli.” She sounded doubtful. “But he’s very insistent. He says he’s the husband of a patient. I thought you ought to know.”
“Maybe you should talk with him, Harry.” O’Do
“All right.” The administrator reached for one of his two telephones.
“It’s line four.” The girl waited until the co
“Administrator speaking.” Tomaselli’s tone was friendly. Then he frowned slightly, listening to what was coming from the other end of the line.
O’Do
Tomaselli put his hand over the phone’s mouthpiece. He told O’Do
O’Do
“No, Mr. Bryan, I don’t remember the particular case. But I will make some inquiries. I promise you that.” He listened, then answered, “Yes, sir, I do know what a hospital bill means to a family. But the hospital doesn’t make any profit, you know.”
O’Do
He hung up the phone, tore off the page of notes, and put it in a tray marked “Dictation.”
“What was the trouble?” O’Do
“He claims his wife was kept in too long. Now he has to go into debt to pay the bill.”
O’Do
“He says he’s checked around—whatever that means.” Tomaselli said thoughtfully, “It may have been necessary, of course, but she was here nearly three weeks.”
“So?”
“Normally I wouldn’t think much about it. But we’ve had an unusual number of these complaints. They’re not always as strong as this—but on the same lines.”
Something flashed through O’Do
Tomaselli glanced at his notes. “Reubens.”
“Let’s see if we can get him and clear this up now.”
Tomaselli touched an intercom set. “Kathy,” he said, “see if you can locate Dr. Reubens.”
They waited in silence. From the corridor outside they could hear a soft voice on the hospital public-address system. “Dr. Reubens. Dr. Reubens.” After a moment the phone buzzed. Tomaselli lifted the receiver and listened. Then he passed it to O’Do
“Reub? It’s Kent O’Do
“What can I do for you?” O’Do
“Do you have a patient”—he looked at Tomaselli’s notes which the administrator had pushed toward him—“a Mrs. Bryan?”
“That’s right. What’s the matter? Has her husband been complaining?”
“You know about it then?”
“Of course I know about it.” Reubens sounded a
“What’s the story, Reub?”
“The story is that I admitted Mrs. Bryan for possible carcinoma of the breast. I removed a tumor. It turned out to be benign.”
“Then why keep her here for three weeks?” As he asked, O’Do
Now he answered, “You’d better ask Joe Pearson that!”
“Be simpler if you told me, Reub.” O’Do
There was a silence. Then the thin, clipped voice said, “All right. I told you the tumor was benign. But it was two and a half weeks before I found out. That’s how long it took Pearson to get it under his microscope.”
“Did you remind him about it?”
“If I called him once I called him half a dozen times. He’d probably have been longer if I hadn’t kept after it.”
“And that’s why you kept Mrs. Bryan in—for three weeks?”
“Naturally.” The voice on the phone took on a note of sarcasm. “Or are you suggesting I should have discharged her?”
There was reason for Reubens to be sour on the subject, O’Do
The thing had obviously been on Reubens’ mind. “Then you’d better talk to some of the other men,” he said. “I’m not the only one this has happened to. You know about Bill Rufus?”
“Yes, I know. Frankly, I thought things had been improving a little.”
“If they have, it’s not so’s you’d notice it. What do you propose to do about Bryan’s bill?”
“I doubt if we can do anything. After all, his wife was here for three weeks. Hospital money is tight, you know.” O’Do
“It’s too bad. Husband’s a decent little guy—a carpenter or something like that, works for himself. He didn’t have any insurance. This’ll set ’em back for a long time.” O’Do
“Yes, Reub; that’s all. Thanks.” He handed the telephone back to Harry Tomaselli.
“Harry, I want a meeting this afternoon.” O’Do
Tomaselli nodded. “Can do.”
O’Do
The administrator checked the names he had written. “Six with you and me. How about Lucy Grainger?”
Briefly O’Do
“Agenda?” Tomaselli had his pencil poised.
O’Do
When the administrator had mentioned Lucy Grainger’s name, O’Do
They had met for di