The house of God

"I don't understand," said Rabbi Fuchs.

"Isn't it just possible that God is punishing us with these deaths, and that we should do everything within our power to follow his Passover Laws? Like paint the doorposts of the Unit, use special Passover dishes, leave a cup of wine for Elijah the Prophet, and so on?"

The black?bearded intellectual Fuchs looked puzzled, peered through his gra

"Did you understand that, Pinkus?" I asked.

"Nope."

"Me neither. What do you mean, Rabbi?"

"Don't take it literally. It is myth. God doesn't work that way anymore. These deaths have to do with physiological fact, not with the whims of Deity. Body, not soul, is what's dying here."

Leave it to the House of God to produce some red-hot Theology student as its Rabbi. I turned to him and asked, "What denomination are you anyway, Rabbi Fuchs?"

"Me? Why, Reform."

"Figures," I said, picking up the phone. "Thank you very much. I'm calling the Orthodox boys, the Hasidim."

The Orthodox Rabbi was an aged, white?bearded patriarch from a half?abandoned synagogue in the black ghetto. Excited by my idea, he quoted cabalistic writings about "the homes of the sick during the Exodus," telling me about the timeliness of the Passover teachings, as in the Mishnah: "In every generation let v each man look on himself as if he came forth out of Egypt." Unfortunately, this Rabbi suffered from congestive heart failure, and before we could get on,, with the chanting and painting, he wanted some gratis medical advice. This took us up to lunchtime, and the Rabbi said he must stop and eat. He produced a small: screwtop jar, sat down with the nurses and me, and. as he opened it, I knew what it was.

"Herring," he said to the nurses, "piece herring."

"I thought you were low salt?" I asked.

"Yeh, I em. Would you believe: the whole low salt for one day is in this tiny piece herring?"

Finally, Maintenance delivered the can of bloodred paint, and with the Rabbi belching herring, begi

For a night it worked. The main threat that night was Dr. Binsky; a middle?aged Private, who'd suffered a serious MI. I knew that he knew he might die, despite the pull of being colleagues, my fear of getting involved pulled me away from him. During the night Dr. Binsky served up most of the cardiac arrythmias known to man. Luckily, miraculously, each responded to my efforts, and dawn saw Binsky, and vice versa. The Orthodox boys had come through.

The next morning, the Seventh Day, Jo was ecstatic. Seeing none dead, she beamed from ear to ear, clasped my hand, and affirmed that, "by God, we're going to win, and if it takes painting the doorposts, why of course we'll paint the doorposts, in the interest of patient care." We want to see Dr. Binsky, and Pinkus, his old friend, said, "Hi, Morns. How's Morris today?"

"I feel OK, Pinkus. What's it been now, forty hours?"

"Just about."

"How's my rhythm strip today?" asked Morris.

"Dr. Binsky," said Jo, putting her hand in an olderbrother fashion on his shoulder, and with a crinkle in her voice, "it's normal sinus rhythm again. NSR, at last."

"What a relief," said Dr. Binsky, "what a gigantic relief."

Ten seconds later he had a cardiac arrest and despite our efforts, within the half?hour he was dead.

Jo broke. She sat in the staff room with Pinkus and me, crying, repeating over and over, "He couldn't have died, he was in normal sinus. Normal sinus rhythm and now he's dead? It doesn't make any sense, statistically. I can't take this absurdity anymore."

"People do die in NSF," said Pinkus calmly. "It shows that we did all we could, right, Roy?"

I nodded my agreement. Of course Pinkus was right.

"Look, Jo," said Pinkus, "he went out in perfect, normal sinus rhythm. With class. Yes, he went out the House of God way."

I thought of a House LAW: THE PATIENT IS THE ONE WITH THE DISEASE. It was his heart, not mine. I was immune from responsibility or concern. My world was for ru

After di

"Pinkus says that within limits, fatigue is mental,; not physiological. Every other night is not bad. I kind of like it."

"Like it? I thought you hated being in the House at night."

"Outside the Unit, I did. Inside the Unit, I like it. In fact, I almost could say I love it. Like the surgeons say: 'The only drawback to being on call every other night is that you only get to admit half the patients' That's how I feel too. I might become a cardiologist."

Berry stopped, grabbed me by the shoulders, forced me to look at her. She seemed far away as she said, "Roy, what's the matter with you? For months you've been telling me how the internship is wrecking your life?your creativity, your humaneness, your passion. What the hell is going on with this Unit anyway?"

"Don't know. Lotta deaths. Jo cracked. Cried. High anxiety level. Type A. Even with estrogens, bad news for her."

"Jo cracked? And what about the effect of these deaths on you?"

"These deaths? So what?"

"So what?" asked Berry, in a tone that came from the bottom of a well, far off, ringing of dismay and regret, "I'll tell you what?the more deaths, the less human you become."

"You shouldn't worry. Like Pinkus says, 'anxiety's a killer.' "

That night in bed, as I turned to her and touched her shoulder, I could feel her tension. She stopped me and said, "Roy, I'm worried. I could understand your shutting yourself off from grieving Potts's death, but this is too much. You're isolated. You never see your friends, you never even mention Fats or Chuck or the policemen anymore."

"Yeah. I think I've left them all behind."

"Listen to me: you don't love the Unit, it's a defense. You don't love Pinkus, it's a defense. You're hypomanic, identifying with the aggressor, idolizing Pinkus to save yourself from falling apart. It may work in the House, but it won't work with me. For me, tonight, you're a dead man. There's no spark of life."

"Gee, I du

"How much longer does this MICU rotation last?"

"Ten days," I said, and caressed her hair, thinking calmly of our supreme primeval exercise, sex. She pulled away, and I asked why.

"I can't make love to you if there's this distance between us."

"You mean you can't stand the thought of another woman? Because that's all ov?"

"NO! I can't stand you! I've just about had it with trying to get through to you. I've got to start thinking of myself. I'll give you the benefit of time, let you finish the Unit, to see if you can snap out of this. Otherwise, it's all over. After all this time, we're through. In your terms, it's ROR, Roy, ROR."