My first call was to my office.
To Lev Avital, one of the other surgeons in the practice, who’d been part of our group for the past eight years. I caught him at his desk during a consult. “Jay, what’s up? How is it out there?”
“Avi, I need a huge favor,” I said. “Can you handle an iliac stent for me in the morning tomorrow? The patient’s the daughter of a friend of mine from our club. I’d planned to be back, but I really need another day or two out here. I promise, it’s a layup, Avi.”
“Let me check.” He took a look through his schedule and came back to say he was free. He only had a couple of consults to juggle around. “You know we were all so sad to hear about your nephew, Jay.”
“Thanks. I owe you big-time, guy,” I said in relief. “I hope to be back next week.”
“I’ll remind you about this at Thanksgiving. I’m on call this year.”
I gave him some background on the case and how it was all pretty much totally routine. Just inserting a stent through the femoral artery and bypassing the aneurysm. Avi was an ex–Israeli tank commander. He’d seen action in Lebanon. He’d studied at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem and at Harvard, and could probably do an iliac bypass in his sleep. Probably even better than I could.
“You’ll be out by lunch,” I promised. I said I’d have my secretary e-mail over the MRIs with Stacey’s file. “Call me if you need to discuss. And, Avi . . .”
“Don’t even mention it,” he said. “I’m hoping things go well for you and your family out there.”
“No—I meant, call me as soon as you’re done and let me know how it went,” I said. “But thanks. Thanks a bunch.”
I told him I’d alert the family to the change.
My next call was to Kathy.
My stomach clenched a bit at the thought of having to explain this to her. It was eight fifteen in California. Eleven fifteen back home. I dialed her on her cell and she picked up, from one of the examining rooms.
“Hey,” she answered brightly, “I’m in with a very unhappy Lab named Sadie who’s got a big blister on her paw. I got your message last night. You at the airport yet?”
“Don’t be mad,” I said, sucking in a breath. “I can’t make it back today.”
“You can’t . . . ?” Her voice sank with disappointment. Maybe an edge of exasperation too.
“Look, I know what you’re thinking, but something’s come up. I just need another day or two, that’s all, to see something through. You trust me, don’t you?”
“See something through? I thought you had a procedure Friday, Jay. On Marv and Susie Gold’s daughter.”
“I just got Avi to cover it.”
“Avi? And we had the Hochmans coming tomorrow night. All right . . .” She sighed frostily, not even attempting to conceal her frustration. “Jay, I know better than anyone how much you want to do something for them, but—”
“Don’t even go there, Kath. It’s not even about Charlie and Gabby, or what you might think. I just have to see something through. Related to Evan. I’ll explain it all later. I promise.”
There was a pause, one of those moments when it’s pretty obvious no one wants to say what they’re really thinking.
“Look, I have to get back to my patient,” she said, exhaling. “She’s very impatient. She’s starting to growl at me. We can discuss this later, okay?”
“Okay.”
Then, almost as a good-bye: “And of course I trust you, Jay.”