Noah climbed into a rental Ford Fusion and started the engine. He then keyed “Brazos University Medical Center” into the GPS. Although he intended to start his investigative work by driving out to Brownfield in the morning, he thought he’d take a quick look around the Brazos hospital complex just to get the lay of the land, since it was still light and relatively early.
It had taken far longer to get to Lubbock, Texas, than Noah had anticipated, mainly because there had been no nonstop flight or even a direct flight. He’d initially gone to the Delta counter to inquire, thinking a flight through Atlanta might work, but he’d learned that the shortest flight time was on American through their principal hub, Dallas.
Since he’d had almost an hour layover in Dallas, Noah had used the time to eat and investigate hotel accommodations in Lubbock. He’d settled on the Embassy Suites, because it had a business facility with available computers. Noah had always known he depended heavily on electronic media, but he wasn’t aware to what extent. What he needed was access to the Internet to help with his investigations.
He’d had plenty of time to think about his impetuous decision to take the trip. The more he thought about it, the more appropriate it seemed for so many reasons, although the principal one remained his being the best person for the job. A local PI might have been able to uncover information about Ava’s training but not the specifics that Noah was interested in.
Noah’s first impressions of the Lubbock area were close to what he imagined. It was hot yet dry and in that sense, less oppressive than Boston at that time of year. As he looked out at the flat desertlike terrain, he wondered if he could live in such an environment, accustomed as he was to hills and lush vegetation.
Driving was easy compared to his limited experience in Boston. Not only was there less traffic, but the other drivers seemed gracious, which was a huge difference. Following the easy GPS directions, Noah soon found himself at the medical center’s campus. In contrast with the BMH, all the buildings were modern, appeared to have been designed by the same architects, and looked relatively new. There was lots of bronze-tinted glass and red brick. In contrast with the Stanhope Pavilion, the main hospital building was only five stories tall.
On an impulse, Noah followed the signs directing him to the emergency area. There were a few empty ambulances backed up against a loading dock, but no people visible. Pulling his rental car to a stop in the ER visitor’s parking area, Noah debated if he should go in or wait until he’d returned when the hospital was in full swing as he had originally planned. Following the same impulse that had directed him to drive into the ER parking, Noah got out of the car. His thought was that if things were quiet, which they appeared to be, it might be a good time to have a preliminary conversation with the surgical resident assigned to the ER. Having the name of someone might make his job significantly easier tomorrow when the hospital was busy.
The emergency room was as quiet as it was outside. There were only five people in the sitting area looking at cell phones, flipping through magazines, or reading newspapers. Most of the activity was behind the check-in desk, where a number of nurses, orderlies, and a few residents were relaxing and socializing. As Noah approached, he wondered when the last time the BMH emergency room looked equally calm.
“Excuse me,” Noah said to the admitting clerk who’d greeted him. “I’m a surgical resident from Boston, and I am interested in talking to someone about fellowships at this hospital. Is there a surgical resident who might be willing to talk with me?”
“I don’t know,” the woman said. She seemed mildly flustered by the unexpected request. “Let me ask one of the doctors.”
Five minutes later Noah found himself in the hospital coffee shop with a third-year surgical resident from Argentina by the name of Dr. Ricardo Labat, who was very impressed that Noah was training at the BMH. He was a handsome, friendly fellow with a charming accent. Noah commented how quiet the emergency room seemed. Ricardo’s response was to explain that Lubbock had no shortage of hospital beds, naming Texas Tech’s medical center, Methodist, and Convenant as just a few of the hospitals with significant capacity and emergency room services.
“How is the anesthesia department here?” Noah asked casually.
“It gets high marks, as far as I am concerned,” Ricardo said.
“I’d be interested in talking with a couple of their residents,” Noah said.
“I could go up to the OR and see if any of the on-call residents are available,” Ricardo said. “But I doubt it. I happen to know there are several emergency cases under way.”
“No problem,” Noah said. “I plan on coming back tomorrow. Let me ask you something else. We have a staff anesthesiologist who trained here, finishing up about five years ago. Her name is Dr. Ava London. Does that name ring a bell? My thought is that she must have been a local celebrity of sorts, coming directly from here to the BMH.”
“I never heard of her,” Ricardo said. “But I’m not surprised. This entire university, including the medical center, has been expanding so fast with residents coming from all over the world. The training is excellent, in my estimation, which is why I am here. Last year one of the surgical residents went to Johns Hopkins for a fellowship, and the year before one went out to Stanford and one to Columbia-Presbyterian.”
“I’m impressed,” Noah said, and he was.
“I could call upstairs if you want and see if the staff anesthesiologist on call knows of her.”
“No need, but thanks,” Noah said. “I’ll ask about her tomorrow.”
Fifteen minutes later Noah was back in the rental car setting up the GPS to get him to his hotel. He had been encouraged by his short conversation with Dr. Labat. Learning that recent resident graduates had been going to big-name tertiary-care institutions suggested that Ava’s jump from Brazos to BMH wasn’t all that exceptional. His assumptions that her training had been totally satisfactory seemed to be on the mark.
His room was as generic as Noah expected and far more spacious and luxurious than he needed. After taking a quick shower, he went down to the business center to use the computer. He wanted to go on the Brazos University Department of Anesthesiology website to get the names of the principal faculty members who had been there for more than five years. He also wanted to write down the names of the current residents. The more information he had, the more rewarding he thought his visit would be.