ADRENALINE: New 2013 edition (15 page)

“Hey, space cadet,” Doug said interrupting his thoughts. “I said, have you heard the weather?”

“No,” Mike replied.

Doug zipped up his Woolrich down parka and closed his locker door. “It’s supposed to drop down to ten degrees tonight. Big windchill, too.”

“Shit, why so cold this early in December?” Mike asked.
Just go, Doug
.

“Some jetstream bullshit, arctic air mass and all that,” Doug replied. “Well, I’m outta here, Mike. I’ll be at home, but try not to call me, OK?”

Mike forced a grin. “Don’t worry, pal. You know me.”

Doug headed for the door, but then turned and said, “It’s good to see your old cheerful self back, Mike. I was a little worried about you earlier in the week.”

“Yeah, yeah, me too. Don’t worry, Doug. I got it under control.” Mike paused and flashed Doug another fake smile. “See? Happy. Now go on. Get out of here before I put you back to work.” Mike motioned toward the door.

“All right, all right. See ya.”

As soon as Doug left, Mike dropped all smiles. Mike was irritated with Doug. He was a good friend, but sometimes he was a little too perfect. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Mr. Cool was having his own set of problems at home. He didn’t admit to it, but Mike knew. When the couples had gone out recently, he had seen the tension between Doug and Laura. Besides, Doug had never gone to a meeting before without her. What was that all about?

Mike knew Doug had always had a wandering eye, but his affliction seemed to be worsening. Mike didn’t get it. Laura was as pretty as they came and nice to boot. She’d do anything for you—not the typical, bitchy Doctor’s wife. No, he didn’t understand Doug’s behavior. Doug even seemed touchy when he brought it up.

The hospital PA system barked to life, startling him. “Doctor Campbell, call the emergency room, two-one-six-four, STAT.” Oh shit, Mike thought. They’re stat paging the vascular surgeon to the ER. That can’t be good news.

His fears were returning with a vengeance. He still had several cases to go that he knew of. And Friday nights, all bets were off. Anything could come screaming up from the ER: ruptured aneurysms, trauma, pediatric emergencies or obstetrical nightmares. He knew it was time for a re-dose if he was going to make it through the next twelve hours of call.

His heart began to pound and the trembling intensified just thinking about it.
How the hell am I going to make it twenty-five
years? Don’t think about it. One day at a time and all that shit. You know, desperate times call for desperate measures
.

He retrieved the necessary supplies from his locker and proceeded to one of the bathroom stalls.

Doug made it all the way out to his truck, before he realized he’d forgotten the schedule book.

“Damn it!” he said, as he flung his bag into the truck. He couldn’t decide whether to get it or forget about it until tomorrow. “Feels like ten below!” He didn’t relish another trek back to the hospital, but he’d promised Laura he would bring the book home tonight, so they could plan the family’s summer vacation.

“Damn it! I’ll never get out of here,” he said, as he began retracing his steps to the hospital. The wind did its best to punish him for his forgetfulness.

Mike closed the door to the bathroom stall. A small part of his brain noted how quickly he had progressed from moral dilemma stage, to figuring out when it would be time for his next dose. Was it really possible to become drug dependent that fast? Could someone sink so low in a period of hours?

The remainder of his brain quickly overwhelmed these concerns, flooding him with images of panic and naked fear. He felt powerless to resist. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. He repeated this mantra over and over while he drew up the Fentanyl and performed the venipuncture on himself. Mike pushed the plunger for the second time that day, this time with considerably less reluctance. He took a deep breath, sat back and waited for the Fentanyl to kick in and deliver him from his fear.

He didn’t have to wait long. He was still amazed by the rapidity of it all. He likened it to the crashing surf of a swiftly incoming tide; his fear was a small sandcastle, obliterated in an instant by the rushing torrent. The tourniquet dropped from his arm to the floor as he sat entranced by the pounding waves.

Doug was walking fast and still shivering as he entered the locker room. He had to go through the locker room to get to the on-call room where the schedule book was kept. He noticed that Mike’s locker door was ajar, but didn’t think much of it.

He strode past the bathroom stalls and glanced over as he was about to exit the room. What he saw stopped him in his tracks.

There on the floor, visible underneath the first stall, were Mike’s Nike Airs. He recognized them immediately. What stopped him, however, weren’t the sneakers, but the rubber tourniquet draped over the left one. That, and the funny breathing he heard coming from the stall.

“Mike, you OK?”

“Doug!” Mike answered with an unmistakable trace of alarm. “W-what are you doing here?”

“I forgot the damned schedule book.” Doug was immediately worried. Things didn’t add up.

The toilet flushed and out walked Mike, a huge smile plastered on his face. “Can’t keep you away from this place,” Mike said, his eyes dancing about the room.

Doug didn’t return the smile. He was stunned by what he saw. Mike’s face was slightly flushed and his pupils were absolute pinpoints. The conclusion was inescapable, but Doug’s mind refused to believe it.

“What’s with the tourniquet?” Doug asked.

“What’re you talking about?”

“I saw a tourniquet on the floor.”

“It dropped out of my pocket, I guess.” Mike abandoned his smile. “Geez, Doug. What’s your problem?”

“You are, Mike. Your pupils are goddamned small enough.”

Mike hesitated, then said, “It must be this cold medicine I’ve been taking.”

“Cold medicine!” Doug’s mind clung to denial, but he commanded it to accept the truth. “You don’t have a cold.” Now it all made sense, the haggard appearance, the euphoria. “You think I’m stupid, Mike?”

“What’re you saying, Doug? C’mon, just say it!”

“Cut the crap, Mike!” Doug said, his voice rising swiftly. “We both give this shit to people all day long. I know what it looks like.”

“You think I’m using!”

“Show me your pockets!” Doug shouted. “Show me your arms, if you’re clean!”

“No, I won’t. Listen, I gotta get back to my case.” Mike tried to maneuver around Doug, who was blocking the exit.

Doug grabbed his arms, squeezed hard and shook him. “Show me your damned arms!” Doug screamed.

“No, I won’t!” Mike pleaded. “You’re my friend, Doug. Can’t you trust me?”

Before he could finish his sentence, Doug pushed up the sleeves to Mike’s scrub jacket.

“There, Mike. What the hell’s this!” Doug said, exposing a fresh puncture wound on his left arm. “I suppose you’re taking your damned cold medicine by injection.”

He threw Mike’s arm down and turned his back on him in disgust. “I can’t believe it, Mike.”

“Doug, listen to me.” Mike touched him on the shoulder. “You gotta listen. It’s not what you think,” Mike said, his voice breaking up.

Doug turned and faced Mike. It was hard to see his friend in such agony, to see the tears. He took several deep breaths to calm himself and spoke in a lower tone. “How long, Mike?”

“I just started, Doug.” Mike sat down on the bench and stared at the floor. He tried to wipe away the tears. “This morning was the first time, I swear. I was gonna tell you.”

“Why Mike? What about Colleen and the kids?”

“I know, I know,” Mike said, shaking his head. He looked up. “It’s stupid, but I did it for them, Doug.”

“That’s crazy!” Doug said and put his hand to his forehead. He took a few steps away and paced about in a small circle. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Not Mike. It just wasn’t possible.

“I just needed a little help through this malpractice shit,” Mike said. “That’s all. They’re counting on me, Doug. I can’t let them down.” Mike buried his face in his hands, his body wracked by sobs.

Doug walked over and put his hand on his back. “Mike, there are better ways to get help.”

“I guess. Doug, you can’t turn me in,” Mike said, choking back the tears. “Listen, I swear that was the last time. I’m not hooked yet. I can stop like that.” He looked up, met Doug’s eyes for the first time, and snapped his fingers.

“I don’t know, Mike.” Doug’s anger was dissipating, being replaced by concern and pity.

“Doug, listen. You just can’t tell anybody yet. If the lawyers get wind of this, they’ll crucify me. You know how it goes—drugged up doctor kills patient. If this gets out, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“I’ll have to think about it, Mike, OK?” Doug turned and exited the locker room, his mind a tangled mess of emotions. The schedule book was no longer a concern.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Are you sure?” asked Laura Landry as she punched buttons on the microwave. She shuffled her slippers on the vinyl brick kitchen floor.

“Yes, no doubt about it,” said Doug. He was slouched forward in his chair at the large oak trestle table, his back to her.

“I’m making coffee. Want any?” she asked.

“Sure, decaf.” His tired gaze roamed around the room, but the familiar details of the rustic country decor didn’t register. Lots of pigs and cows in all shapes and sizes peeked out from shelves and countertops. Antique implements, some of long-forgotten function, hung from the walls and wooden ceiling beams. Doug sighed and said, “He had no reason to lie. Besides, I saw the needle mark on his arm.”

“Wow,” she said above the hum of the microwave.

“I didn’t want to talk about it until the kids were in bed.”

“This is just horrible,” she said. “Mike always seemed so happy, so stable. I can’t believe it.”

He heard instant coffee being scooped into mugs. “I can’t either. I’m sure it must have to do with his case. He really took it hard.” Doug massaged his temples, his elbows resting on the table.

“And you said he got sued over it too?” she asked.

“Right,” he said. The microwave beeped and was opened. He heard sounds of pouring water, followed shortly by a spoon clinking. The aroma of freeze-dried coffee drifted over to him. She appeared with the two steaming cups and placed his on the table.