Free Godplayer by Robin Cook Page A

Thomas. Of late Thomas had begun to think that Ballantine, whose skills were obviously on the decline, was beginning to favor the prestige of being a professor over the rewards of private practice. If that were true, it could cause trouble by upsetting the balance between the full-time staff and the private physicians, which in the past had always tilted toward the latter.
    “Now, if everyone will turn to the last page of the handout,” said Dr. Ballantine, “I’d like to point out that there has been a major scheduling change.”
    There was a simultaneous rustle as everyone flipped the pages. Thomas did the same, placing the papers on the arm of his chair. He did not like the sound of a major scheduling change.
    The last page was divided vertically into four columns, representing the four rooms used for open-heart surgery. Horizontally the page was divided into the five days of the work week. Within each box were the names of the surgeons scheduled for that day. OR No. 18 was Thomas’s room. As the fastest and busiest surgeon, he was assigned four cases on each day except Friday when he had three because of the conference. The first thing Thomas checked when he looked at the page was OR No. 18. His eyes widened in disbelief. The schedule suggested that he’d been cut to three cases a day, Monday through Thursday. He’d lost four slots!
    “The university has authorized us to hire another full-time attending for the teaching service,” Dr. Ballantine was saying proudly, “and we have started a search for a pediatric cardiac surgeon. This, of course, is a major advance for the department. In preparation for this new situation, we are expanding the teaching service by an additional four cases per week.”
    “Dr. Ballantine,” began Thomas, carefully controlling himself. “It appears from the schedule that all four additional teaching slots are being taken from my allotted time. Am I to assume that is just for next week?”
    “No,” said Dr. Ballantine. “The schedule you see will hold until further notice.”
    Thomas breathed out slowly before speaking. “I must object. I hardly think it’s fair that I should be the sole person to give up OR time.”
    “The fact of the matter is that you have been controlling about forty percent of the OR time,” said George. “And this is a teaching hospital.”
    “I participate in teaching,” snapped Thomas.
    “We understand that,” said Ballantine. “You’re not to take this personally. It is plainly a matter of more equitable distribution of OR time,”
    “I’m already over a month behind on my patient schedule,” said Thomas. “There isn’t that kind of demand for teaching cases. There aren’t enough patients to fill the current teaching slots.”
    “Don’t worry,” said George. “We’ll find the cases.”
    Thomas knew what the real issue was. George, and most of the others, were jealous of the number of cases Thomas did and how much money Thomas earned. He felt like getting up and punching George right in the face.
    Glancing around the room, Thomas noticed that the rest of the doctors were suddenly busy with their notes, papers, or other belongings. He could not count on any of the people present to back him up.
    “What we all have to understand,” said Dr. Ballantine, “is that we are all part of the university system. And teaching is a major goal. If you feel pressure from some of your private patients, you could take them to other institutions.”
    Thomas’s anger and frustration made it hard for him to think clearly. He knew, in fact everybody knew, that he could not just pick up and go to another hospital. Cardiac surgery required a trained and experienced team. Thomas had helped build the system at the Memorial, and he depended on the structure.
    Priscilla Grenier spoke up, saying they might be able to add an additional OR room if they got an appropriation for another heart-lung machine and perfusionist to run it.
    “That’s a thought,”