Free Foreign Body by Robin Cook Page B
Authors: Robin Cook
cajoling on his part.
"Thank you. It was about my grandmother." Jennifer pulled her arm free and reached across Neil's desk to grab a tissue.
"I remember. Maria, right?"
"Yes. She died just a few hours ago. It was even announced, believe it or not, on CNN."
"Oh, no! Gosh, I'm truly sorry. I know what she meant to you. What happened?"
"I'm told a heart attack, which definitely surprises me."
"I can understand why. Didn't the medical department here recently give her a remarkably clean bill of health?"
"They absolutely did. They even gave her a stress test."
"Are you going to head home, or is that a problem? I mean, didn't you start your new surgery rotation today?"
"No and yes," Jennifer said cryptically. "The situation is a bit more complicated." She then went on to tell Neil the whole story about India, about being needled concerning cremation or embalming, about getting the dean to grant a week's leave, about a medical-service company paying her expenses, and about leaving in just a few hours.
"Wow," Neil said. "You've had quite a morning. I'm sorry you are going to India for such a sad reason. As I told you last May when I came back, it's a fascinating country, full of unbelievable contrasts. But I guess this won't be a pleasure trip." Neil had been to India five months before to speak at a medical conference in New Delhi.
"I can't imagine anything about this trip being pleasurable, which brings me to the issue of malaria. What do you think I should do?"
"Ouch," Neil said, wincing. "I'm sorry to say you should have started something a week ago."
"Well, there's no way I could have anticipated this. I'm okay on everything else, even typhoid, from the scare last year with my patient in internal medicine."
Neil grabbed a prescription pad from his drawer and rapidly wrote one out. He handed it to Jennifer, who looked it over.
"Doxycycline?" Jennifer read out loud.
"It's not the number-one choice, but the coverage starts immediately. The best part is you probably don't need it. It's the south of India where malaria is a true problem."
Jennifer nodded and put the scrip into her shoulder bag.
"Why did your grandmother go to India for her surgery?"
"Purely cost, I assume. She didn't have health insurance. And I'm sure my bastard of a father encouraged it big-time."
"I've read about medical tourism to India, but I've never known someone who actually did it."
"I wasn't even aware of it."
"Where are they putting you up?"
"A hotel called the Amal Palace."
"Wow!" Neil said. "That's supposed to be five-star." He chuckled, then added, "You'd better be careful; they must be trying to buy you off. Of course I'm kidding. They don't need to buy you off. One of the negatives about medical tourism is you have no recourse. There's no such thing as malpractice. Even if they screw up big-time, like taking out the wrong eye or killing someone by mistake or incompetence, there's not a thing you can do."
"It's my guess they've negotiated some kind of deal with the Amal Palace. It's just where they put people up. I mean, it's not like I'm getting a special deal. Apparently, they pay airfare and hotel for one relative. That's why I'm getting the trip. My lazy father claimed he couldn't go."
"Well, I hope something positive comes out of this journey," Neil said. He gave Jennifer's wrist one last squeeze. "And keep me informed. Call me anytime: morning, noon, or night. I'm so sorry about your grandmother." He picked up the pen as a signal he had to get back to work.
"I have a couple of requests," Jennifer said, maintaining her seat.
"Sure. What's on your mind?"
"Would you consider coming with me? I think I need you. I mean, I'm going to be completely out of my element. Except for a trip to Colombia when I was nine, I've never been out of the country, much less to some exotic place like India. Since you were just there, you already have a visa. I can't tell you how much more comfortable I'd feel. I know it is asking a lot, but
"Thank you. It was about my grandmother." Jennifer pulled her arm free and reached across Neil's desk to grab a tissue.
"I remember. Maria, right?"
"Yes. She died just a few hours ago. It was even announced, believe it or not, on CNN."
"Oh, no! Gosh, I'm truly sorry. I know what she meant to you. What happened?"
"I'm told a heart attack, which definitely surprises me."
"I can understand why. Didn't the medical department here recently give her a remarkably clean bill of health?"
"They absolutely did. They even gave her a stress test."
"Are you going to head home, or is that a problem? I mean, didn't you start your new surgery rotation today?"
"No and yes," Jennifer said cryptically. "The situation is a bit more complicated." She then went on to tell Neil the whole story about India, about being needled concerning cremation or embalming, about getting the dean to grant a week's leave, about a medical-service company paying her expenses, and about leaving in just a few hours.
"Wow," Neil said. "You've had quite a morning. I'm sorry you are going to India for such a sad reason. As I told you last May when I came back, it's a fascinating country, full of unbelievable contrasts. But I guess this won't be a pleasure trip." Neil had been to India five months before to speak at a medical conference in New Delhi.
"I can't imagine anything about this trip being pleasurable, which brings me to the issue of malaria. What do you think I should do?"
"Ouch," Neil said, wincing. "I'm sorry to say you should have started something a week ago."
"Well, there's no way I could have anticipated this. I'm okay on everything else, even typhoid, from the scare last year with my patient in internal medicine."
Neil grabbed a prescription pad from his drawer and rapidly wrote one out. He handed it to Jennifer, who looked it over.
"Doxycycline?" Jennifer read out loud.
"It's not the number-one choice, but the coverage starts immediately. The best part is you probably don't need it. It's the south of India where malaria is a true problem."
Jennifer nodded and put the scrip into her shoulder bag.
"Why did your grandmother go to India for her surgery?"
"Purely cost, I assume. She didn't have health insurance. And I'm sure my bastard of a father encouraged it big-time."
"I've read about medical tourism to India, but I've never known someone who actually did it."
"I wasn't even aware of it."
"Where are they putting you up?"
"A hotel called the Amal Palace."
"Wow!" Neil said. "That's supposed to be five-star." He chuckled, then added, "You'd better be careful; they must be trying to buy you off. Of course I'm kidding. They don't need to buy you off. One of the negatives about medical tourism is you have no recourse. There's no such thing as malpractice. Even if they screw up big-time, like taking out the wrong eye or killing someone by mistake or incompetence, there's not a thing you can do."
"It's my guess they've negotiated some kind of deal with the Amal Palace. It's just where they put people up. I mean, it's not like I'm getting a special deal. Apparently, they pay airfare and hotel for one relative. That's why I'm getting the trip. My lazy father claimed he couldn't go."
"Well, I hope something positive comes out of this journey," Neil said. He gave Jennifer's wrist one last squeeze. "And keep me informed. Call me anytime: morning, noon, or night. I'm so sorry about your grandmother." He picked up the pen as a signal he had to get back to work.
"I have a couple of requests," Jennifer said, maintaining her seat.
"Sure. What's on your mind?"
"Would you consider coming with me? I think I need you. I mean, I'm going to be completely out of my element. Except for a trip to Colombia when I was nine, I've never been out of the country, much less to some exotic place like India. Since you were just there, you already have a visa. I can't tell you how much more comfortable I'd feel. I know it is asking a lot, but