A Case of Need: A Novel by Michael Crichton, Jeffery Hudson Read Free Book Online

tradition.
    Joshua Randall, like many surgeons of his period, had a rule that no resident working under him could marry. One resident sneaked off and did; a few months later, Randall discovered what had happened and called a meeting of all his residents. He lined them up in a row and said, “Dr. Jones, please take one step forward.”
    The guilty doctor did, trembling slightly.
    Randall said, “I understand you have gotten married.” He made it sound like a disease.
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Before I discharge you from the staff, do you have anything to say in your defense?”
    The young doctor thought for a moment, then said, “Yes, sir. I promise I’ll never do it again.”
    Randall, according to the story, was so amused by this reply that he kept the resident after all.
    After Joshua Randall came Winthrop Randall, the thoracic surgeon. J. D. Randall, Karen’s father, was a heart surgeon, specializing in valvular replacements. I had never met him, but I’d seen him once or twice—a fierce, patriarchal man, with thick white hair and a commanding manner. He was the terror of the surgical residents, who flocked to him for training, but hated him.
    His brother, Peter, was an internist with his offices just off the Commons. He was very fashionable, very exclusive, and supposedly quite good, though I had no way of knowing.
    J. D. had a son, Karen’s brother, who was in medical school at Harvard. A year ago there was a rumor that the kid was practically flunking out, but nothing recently.
    In another town, at another time, it might seem odd that a young boy with such a distinguished medical tradition would choose to try and live it down. But not Boston: in Boston the wealthy old families had long felt only two professions were worthy of one’s attention. One was medicine and the other was law; exceptions were made for the academic life, which was honorable enough so long as one became a professor at Harvard.
    But the Randalls were not an academic family, or a legal family. They were a medical family, and any Randall who could, contrived to get himself through medical school and into a house officership 1 at the Mem. Both the medical school and the Mem had, in the past, made allowances for poor grades when it came to the Randalls, but over the years, the family had more than repaid the trust. In medicine, a Randall was a good gamble.
    And that was about all I knew about the family, except that they were very wealthy, firmly Episcopal, determinedly public spirited, widely respected, and very powerful.
    I would have to find out more.
    T HREE BLOCKS FROM THE HOSPITAL , I passed through the Combat Zone at the corner of Mass and Columbus avenues. At night it teems with whores, pimps, addicts, and pushers; it got its name because doctors at the City see so many stabbings and shootings from this area they regard it as the location of a limited war. 2
    The Boston City itself is an immense complex of buildings sprawling over three city blocks. It has more than 1,350 beds, mostly filled with alcoholics and derelicts. Within the Boston medical establishment, the City is known as the Boston Shitty because of its clientele. But it is considered a good teaching hospital for residents and interns, because one sees there many medical problems one would never see in a more affluent hospital. A good example is scurvy. Few people in modern America contract scurvy. To do so requires general malnutrition and a complete abstinence from fruit for five months. This is so rare that most hospitals see a case every three years; at the Boston City there are a half-dozen each year, usually in the spring months, the “scurvy season.”
    There are other examples: severe tuberculosis, tertiary syphilis, gunshot wounds, stabbings, accidents, self-abuse, and personal misfortune. Whatever the category, the City sees more of it, in a more advanced state, than any other hospital in Boston. 3
    T HE INTERIOR OF THE CITY HOSPITAL is a maze built by a madman. Endless