Miracle Cure by Michael Palmer Read Free Book Online Page B

bypass.”
    The expression in Jessup’s eyes was knowing.
    “We’ll see,” she said.
    Now, she bent down to whisper a few words of encouragement and then crossed over to the scrub nurse, who helped her glove and gown.
    Let the games begin
, Brian thought, noting how small and frail his father looked, sandwiched as he was between the table and the massive fluoroscopic camera.
    Gloved, gowned, and masked, Carolyn approached the table, polled the console nurse and each person in the room with her eyes to ensure they were ready, and began. Her movements were economical and assured. Her skill at inserting the large-bore guide needles into the femoral artery and vein was unerring.
    “Brian, I’ve sent for his old films from Suburban,” she said, threading the long catheters up without breaking tempo. “They should be here later today.”
    “It’s been about four years since he was done last, so I’m not certain how much help the films will be. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen an arterial catheter quite like that.”
    “That’s very observant of you. It’s a prototype from Ward-Dunlop, the surgical supply people. We’ve beenworking on the development of this catheter with them for three years. Right now, we’re one of several institutions evaluating it. It’s all we use here.”
    “I can see why. It looks like a definite improvement over the one that we were using.”
    “It is. In another year or so, we expect every cath lab in the country to be using them. Hey, Jack, are you still with me?”
    “I’m with you.… But I’d rather be with you in Hawaii.”
    Jack’s speech had slowed and thickened. His eyes were closed. The pre-op medication had kicked in right on schedule.
    “Good,” Jessup said. “If anything hurts or bothers you, just shout out.”
    “I will.”
    “Now, Jack, I want you to know that I’ve asked another doctor to stop by and look at these arteries of yours with me.”
    “Fine by me. Whatever you say.”
    “His name is Dr. Randa. He’s the chief of the surgical unit here at BHI.”
    “No surgery,” Jack managed.
    “I understand that’s how you feel, Jack,” she said with, it seemed to Brian, a hint of flirtatiousness in her voice, “and right now I’m not suggesting anything. Just a consult. He’s just going to look at the films and say hello. Okay?”
    “If … you … say … so.”
    Brian was pleased to hear his father capitulate so easily, although he was well aware of the role sedation was playing in Jessup’s small victory. He was also elated that Laj Randa was being called in on the case, even though he had once heard the surgeon described as two velvet hands on a 130-pound asshole.
    As Jessup advanced the catheters into Jack’s heart, she checked their position by shooting in a small burst of X-ray opaque dye and turning on the X-ray camera for short exposures using a toe pedal on the floor. Brian was not surprised that she checked much less frequently than most operators. She performed the pressure measurements and brief injections of the chambers on the right side of the heart, then turned her attention to the more important left side, and Jack’s coronary arteries in particular.
    “Okay,” she said. “Let’s start with the right coronary. Left anterior oblique view, please, Andrew.”
    The tech adjusted the position of the huge camera to the first of what would be eight different views, and Carolyn Jessup did the first injection of dye. In between glances at the EKG monitor and at his father, Brian studied Jack’s coronary arteries on the video display. With each injection, the arterial tree lit up bright white against the pulsating gray of the heart itself. Although the main vessels followed a similar pathway from patient to patient, the overall pattern of the arteries was actually as unique and individual as fingerprints.
    Jack’s vessels were as bad as Brian had feared. There were arteriosclerotic plaques blocking portions of nearly every