"Paul Levinson - Loose Ends (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Levinson Paul)

what must have been a very important patient. Straining his
head closer, he could see that the patient was a fish, cut open
and spread apart down the middle. The Chief Surgeon produced a
mallet and began pounding the fish, while others cut off pieces
and put them in little bags. "Oh, I'm only joking, old boy,"
the Surgeon turned to Jeff and said in a crisp British accent,
"this is dinner, of course!"
Jeff sat up sharply in bed, awakened by yet another nurse
come to stick something in him. "What do you want now?" he
rasped, wincing from the pain that came as he propped himself
up.
"Just some intravenous for the evening, Dr. Harris. It'll
help you sleep." She wheeled some torture-like contraption over
to him. She was a big-boned, handsome, light brown woman, about
35, who spoke with a lilting accent.
He shook his head to clear some of the cobwebs. "I already
ate your lousy supper. Why do I need intravenous?"
"Pity the nurse who has a doctor for a patient," she said
in the mildly scolding tone of voice that seemed a part of every
nurse's repertoire. "Now why don't you just lie back like a
good boy and let me get this working." A strong arm pushed Jeff
back gently but firmly, and she began applying alcohol to his
skin.
Once again the door flung open, this time admitting two
burly black men carrying an impossibly fat TV set.
"I tell you what, Nurse, ah, Daniels." Jeff freed himself
from her grip. "I'll take this intravenous only if it's
prescribed and administered by an intern or resident. So you
want me on that, you call in a doctor, fair enough?" This
should buy him a little time to think this through. There was
something he didn't like about this nurse, not to mention that
he wasn't particularly partial to the prospect of being
festooned with intravenous needles and tubing, 1960s style,
carrying who knew what kind of viruses and sub-vees they didn't
even know about back here, and he might not have been inoculated
against.
Daniels looked at the two men hooking up the TV set and
then back at Jeff. "No meat off my behind, honey," she said, and
abruptly wheeled the equipment out the door.
Good -- she'd apparently decided it wasn't worth making a
scene in front of the techies. "Thank you, gentlemen," Jeff
told them as they finished up. "See? It's not true what they
say about the media always causing problems. Sometimes a TV can
be very helpful."
They looked at him like he was crazy, and left.
Jeff pivoted gingerly in the bed, placing his feet on the
floor in slow, exaggerated motions. Pushing himself up shakily
from his seated position, he found he could stand. He walked
unsteadily to a chair by the window, and sat himself down with
the utmost caution. The pain he expected in his back was