His sentence is interrupted by a particularly ragged cough, and when he brings his hands away from his mouth, they’re flecked with blood.
I cast a worried gaze at Lucas and shake my head. We need to step away from Mr. Holder. Now. My instincts tell me we’re dealing with something much worse than the flu. I find two face masks in the supply cabinet and hand one to Lucas. I expect him to argue, but he puts it on and then turns to ensure mine is covering my mouth properly.
We step back into the room and Mr. Holder is leaning over with his head in his hands, clearly exhausted. Without a lab diagnosis or chest x-ray, there’s not much more we can do. We gather what information we can: his temperature, blood pressure, and where exactly he was traveling in India, all clues to a diagnosis.
Once we’ve performed every test our small clinic allows, we tell him to sit tight as we walk into the exam room across the hall to talk in private.
“I think we’re both thinking the same thing. Should we send him to county? There’s only so much we can do here.”
I agree, but try the lab’s phone number one last time.
“Goddamnit,” I exclaim, slamming the phone down onto the receiver after another fruitless call. I close my eyes in frustration and when I reopen them, I notice the small red LED blinking on the answering machine. Gina usually checks the weekend messages first thing on Monday, but I hit play on the off chance it will help us.
“Dr. McCormick, Billy’s got chicken po—”
I hit next.
“Can you get me in on Monday? I need a refill—”
Next.
“The cows got out of the pasture again, I need to resche—”
Next.
“Hello? This is Erika with Mission Labs. It is extremely important that you return this call as soon as possible. We received a positive culture for M. tuberculosis for a patient J. Holder and this individual needs to be placed in isolation immediately. Anyone in close contact should be monitored as well. If we don’t hear back first thing Monday morning, we are legally obligated to alert the CDC.”
“Lucas!” I shout. “DO NOT GO BACK INSIDE THAT EXAM ROOM!”
Chapter Sixteen
“This is somehow your fault.”
“Oh really?” Lucas replies. “Please, tell me how it is my fault that our evangelical, immunocompromised patient traveled to India over two years ago, before I even knew him.”
“I’m still holding you accountable.”
Lucas rolls his eyes and collapses back on the exam table: our little bed for at least the next 24 hours.
The CDC was quick—probably still jumpy after the recent ebola scare that swept the nation. They had four public health officials at our office within the hour. Two of them escorted Mr. Holder out into a waiting ambulance and two of them stayed behind with us. I suspected they wanted to gather the patient’s history and ask a few questions, but it wasn’t until I saw their overkill hazmat suits that the idea of a full-blown quarantine became apparent.
The officials gently guided Lucas and me into an exam room and told us to stay put. They promised they’d return in a few minutes and we believed them…just like Mr. Holder had believed us. Quicker than I could have imagined, they had red tape unraveling and our door locked from the outside. I panicked.
“Hey, wait!” I shouted, pounding on the door to get their attention.
“Ma’am, please calm down. We’re transferring Mr. Holder to an isolation facility in Houston for treatment.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said, shaking the doorknob to get out of the room. “So we can go?”
“Not so quick.” The official held up his gloved hand. “I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news. The bad news is that because you were in such close contact with the patient, we need the two of you to remain here in quarantine until we’re sure you didn’t contract the infection. The good news is that if your skin tests are negative after 24 hours, you’ll be free to go.”
24 hours? How could being locked in an exam room with Lucas possibly qualify as good news?
“Right. Okay. And so you’re only going to keep Dr. Thatcher here since he was the one to touch Mr. Holder, and I get to stay at home on a mandatory vacation? Sounds reasonable. If you just pull that red tape back a bit, I can slip right out.”
They stared blankly without indulging my hysterics.
“Just be glad it’s only a day. Because you first saw Mr. Holder two weeks ago, any infection would have had time to become detectable.”
He told us all of this an hour ago and since then, I haven’t given up hope of escaping. Lucas has. He’s lying on the exam table with his arm thrown over his eyes. I think he’s asleep.
My escape will have to be an individual effort.
“Hey, psst, buddy. Pal.”
I tap on the glass window on the exam room door and try to earn the attention of the official posted up right outside. He is my jailor and I have a plan.
“I know you can hear me out there. Do you have a name?”