Noble Vision (40 page)

As if an inimical world suddenly asserted itself to choke the peaceful rhythm of their afternoon, a man in the park collapsed. Nicole heard screams for help and felt David spring from the bench to assist. Desperate cries from the man’s frightened companions gave her a start: “He stopped breathing!” “Call an ambulance!” “He’s turning blue!” After interminable minutes trying to revive the stricken man, David finally uttered two words that relieved everyone: “He’s breathing.” Nicole heard an ambulance siren, the wheels of a stretcher rolling along the pavement, her companion’s voice describing the man’s condition to the rescuers, and the scramble to lift the victim into the vehicle. Then the ambulance door slammed shut and the matter was over. Nicole heard voices growing fainter as the crowd that had gathered dispersed.

When David returned to her side, he described the incident the way another man would relate a boxing match, blow by blow. His words were punctuated by the excitement peculiar to him when he spoke of anything medical.

“You miss the hospital, don’t you?” she asked when he had finished.

“Yes,” he admitted.

For one painful moment, her eyes closed.

“I was an emergency medical technician when I was fifteen,” he explained. “I lied about my age to get certified, but it was worth it. I got a real thrill from the fieldwork.”

“And what happened?”

“I got caught.”

“Did you get in trouble?”

“Oh, yes. I was charged with a crime. My father was furious. He grounded me, so I was a prisoner in my room. But later he backed down. You see, I had done good work, and he knew it. He couldn’t punish me for long, so he got the charges against me dropped and gave me back my freedom.”

“So now we’re wondering if your father will be so kind as to give us back our lives, aren’t we?” Her exquisite mouth frowned. “It’s the thing I always hated most, having others decide for me. Sister Luke said that when I grew up,
I
would be in charge. Now—” Her voice caught in the tears she tried to contain.

She felt his hand tighten around hers. “I know,” he said softly.

“What gives them the right?”

He had no answer.

“How can this be happening to us?”

“I want you to hang on for another week, until the hearing, and not let this torment you—”

He realized that Nicole was no longer listening. Her head was turned to a street vendor’s cart next to their bench. She rose slowly from her seat, like a sleepwalker in a trance. Her eyes widened, then squinted, as if straining to . . .
perceive
something. David followed her, watching intently. Nicole placed her face up against a cluster of balloons that the vendor was selling. Her fingers lightly touched the colorful balls.

“They’re balloons!” she exclaimed. She pressed one of them against her face. “This one’s red.” Then her fingers found another and pulled it to her face. “This one’s blue.” She repeated the action for another balloon in the cluster. “Yellow.”

David grabbed her shoulders and stared into the amazing blue pools that were his experiment.

“I can see color! David, I can see color!”

They stood like two children, laughing in tribute to the great promise of life within them. David bought the cluster of balloons from the vendor and handed them to the radiant figure beside him. They linked arms in sheer delight, with the sound of their laughter filling the sunlit park.

“Pretty soon, I’ll see you, David!”

“That should be interesting.”

Chapter 21

On Trial

The secretary of medicine slept fitfully in his Manhattan penthouse. Although he had taken sleeping pills the night before
, Warren Lang lay awake for many hours. At the first light of dawn, tension finally gave way to exhaustion, and he dozed off. He dreamed that he was walking a large, unruly dog. The animal tugged at its leash, barking viciously. Warren struggled to hold the beast, but it broke loose. It moved menacingly toward a boy of about ten years old. The dog leaped up on its hind legs, towering over the frightened child. It jumped on the boy and pushed him to the ground. The terrified child screamed. Warren tried desperately to run to the boy and to cry for help, but his legs were paralyzed and his mouth was unable to utter a sound. With outstretched arms, the boy begged for assistance. Warren could only watch in horror as the salivating beast tore its sharp teeth into one of the small arms and the child screamed in pain. Warren awakened, sitting up in bed, his heart pounding and his body soaked in sweat. He sat trembling, head in hands, overcome by the lingering terror of a dream too real.

That day marked the seventh week since his elder son had performed the surgery on Nicole Hudson and the seventh week before the gubernatorial election. It was the week when Mack Burrow would announce his running mate. That overcast Wednesday in September was also the day of David’s hearing before CareFree.

Too upset to eat, Warren skipped breakfast. When he left his apartment, he was dressed like the consummate executive. However, the dark circles under his eyes and the loose-fitting suit revealed the loss of sleep and appetite that had plagued him for the past seven weeks. He saw the sun reduced to a pale backlight on a cluster of clouds, making the sky a translucent, snowy gray. The secretary ignored the passersby who watched him enter a waiting limousine. No smiles, no waves, no drinking in his admirers like a fresh cup of coffee to give Warren a boost that dreary morning.

Climbing the steps of the Bureau of Medicine’s Manhattan building, he read the inscription on the gold plaque dominating the entrance:
To serve the public interest above all other concerns—this is the noble work of medicine.
The quotation had his name etched under it.

He was a distinguished public figure but also a sleepless wreck. His son was a hero but also an outlaw. He was about to perform a noble act by his own quotation, but he felt only misery. As he entered the revolving door to the old brick building, his life was also whirling in an endless loop. He thought of the philosopher he had once read who said that reality consisted of an inherent conflict of opposites. What was right? What was wrong? Warren, the great moral leader, did not know.

He reached a wood-paneled chamber that was a former courtroom now used by CareFree to conduct hearings. The varnished oak floor and rich mahogany benches were suitable for a grand assembly where statesmen pursued just causes. Warren took his seat at the judge’s bench to face a crowd of people. To his left was a witness stand and jury box. Before him were the defendant’s and prosecutor’s tables. Behind them was a balustrade, and beyond it, a gallery of witnesses and visitors. It was now Warren’s task to explain to the packed room that this was not a trial and he was not a judge. The conflict of opposites.

His eyes scanned the reporters and onlookers in the gallery and the twelve people whom he had asked to sit in the jury box. He noticed the stunning young patient, Nicole Hudson, and her older female companion in the audience. He glanced to his left at CareFree’s lawyer and, last, to his right at David, sitting with his attorney. CareFree had not announced the administrator for the hearing, and his son looked astonished to see him.

Warren greeted the gathering and explained the procedure. “This hearing will loosely resemble a trial, but with more flexibility for the free expression of all views. I have asked six distinguished community leaders and six medical professionals to act as my advisory panel.” Warren pointed to the twelve people in the jury box. “This way the government, the community, and the clinicians can decide this case democratically. I will serve as the moderator to ensure the free flow of information, so the truth can be known and justice can be served.”

He had options, he reminded himself. If the advisors exonerated David, then maybe the governor would relent. If they opted for punishment, then maybe David would relent. If they rendered an unacceptable decision, then he had the power as secretary to overrule them and to be the final authority on the matter. But what was acceptable? He could not decide. If only he could have
both
of his fervent wishes: the nomination for lieutenant governor
and
the rescue of David. The conflict of opposites.

Attorney Brian Harkness, a short, bespectacled man with a shrewd face that made him look older than his thirty-six years, presented CareFree’s case against David. He described how the surgeon had disregarded the hospital rules and broken the law on the evening of Nicole Hudson’s surgery.

“So that no one will think there were extenuating circumstances to excuse David Lang’s infraction, I will demonstrate that his surgery was based on bogus research, that it represented an unwarranted use of public funds, and that it posed a danger to the patient,” Harkness explained.

He called on neurosurgeons to describe from the witness stand the formidable problem of nerve regeneration. These experts testified that countless researchers through the centuries had tried unsuccessfully to regrow the tissue of the central nervous system. The unanimous opinion of the state’s experts was that such nerve regeneration was impossible.

Harkness then asked a public-health spokeswoman to describe the shortage of medical resources and the imperative for doctors to use them prudently. Wasteful tests, unnecessary surgical procedures, and unauthorized hospital stays constituted a misuse of public funds that were urgently needed elsewhere, she testified.

Harkness produced regulatory officials to describe the laws controlling surgeries and medications. The witnesses stated that the surgical procedure and the drugs that David Lang had employed in his experimental treatment were unapproved by the government for use in humans and were therefore illegal. Harkness charged that the surgeon acted brashly, creating unsafe conditions for his patient.

David’s lawyer, Russell Green, a tall man in his forties with a gentlemanly manner and intelligent, gunmetal eyes, answered the state’s charges. Regarding the validity of the procedure, Green asked David to explain his research. Using a visual presentation from his laptop computer, the surgeon showed how he had repaired the severed spinal cords of cats. The state’s medical witnesses then argued that the spinal cords of the animals had perhaps not been completely severed at the start of the treatment, thereby invalidating the results. This allegation, which implied carelessness or dishonesty in the experiment, made David bristle.

Regarding the misuse of public funds, Green displayed three checks written to Riverview Hospital, each sufficient to cover the experimental treatment. The checks were from David Lang, Nicole Hudson, and the producer of the show
Triumph,
each with an accompanying letter directing the hospital to use the money for the dancer’s care. However, Green explained, the hospital was prohibited from cashing the checks. In the name of protecting the public against profiteers who make money off the sick, a hospital accepting private payment for treatment was automatically dropped as a CareFree provider and consequently forced out of business. This left the patient no choice but to rely on CareFree, which meant to use public funds for her medical care.

Regarding the issue of Nicole’s safety, Green stressed that the patient was unharmed by the procedure. Indeed, a rudimentary vision was returning to Nicole. The state’s experts countered that the patient could have had that rudimentary vision the entire time, and a technical argument ensued over the interpretation of Nicole’s brain scan and her claim that she could not see anything before the surgery.

“Could I interrupt this erudite discussion, all of which is irrelevant?” a voice rang from the back of the courtroom. “I’m Randall Lang, the president of Riverview Hospital.” Heads turned to watch the tall blond man whom David had banned from the hearing walk down the gallery to the railing. “I would like to address the court—oh, excuse me—the
hearing
,” Randy said, bowing slightly to his father. “You know, I almost said ‘Your Honor,’ but then you’re not a judge, are you, and that’s not a jury, is it?” He pointed to Warren’s advisors in the jury box. “And forgive me for mentioning it, but the defendant isn’t exactly presumed innocent, is he?”

“He can’t speak!” cried David, leaping from his seat to approach Warren’s bench. “This matter doesn’t concern him, and I won’t allow him to speak!”

“It does, and I will,” said Randy, walking forward to stand next to David.

Warren emitted the sigh of a father long resigned to having strong-willed children. “All right, Randall Lang, say your piece.”

While David protested in vain to his father, Randy was sworn in. Declining the witness chair offered by the attendant, Randy remained standing before Warren and the courtroom. David had no choice but to return to the defendant’s table.

“As the president of Riverview, I represent the owners of the hospital where Dr. David Lang performed the surgery in question. We’re the
owners
, but we weren’t invited to this little gathering that will determine what transpires in our hospital.” He glanced derisively at Warren. “That’s okay. We’re not offended. We’re used to being owners but not being able to buy bedsheets without clearing it through a regulator. We’re not like the doctor and patient before you, who think they have rights. We know we have none. The public told us so when it elected Malcolm Burrow.