Error in Diagnosis by Mason Lucas M. D.

work with, it generally wasn’t necessary to point it out.
    â€œI fully understand your close friendship with Mike may complicate matters,” Helen mentioned. “If there’s anything I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
    â€œThank you,” he said, thinking to himself it was nice to hear Helen acknowledge that she was keenly aware of his predicament.
    Helen motioned to a young man working on a laptop. He returned the wave, stood up and walked over. Appearing sleep deprived and skeletal, his Brillo-y black hair and Ringo Starr mustache were both screaming for agrooming. An iPod was hitched to his frayed brown belt right next to a standard-issue hospital phone. The pockets of his white coat overflowed with an assortment of folded papers and medical manuals.
    â€œI’d like you to meet Marc Jaylind,” Helen said. “He’s our senior fellow in perinatology. He’s been working very closely with our division chief, Madison Shaw, on these cases. He’ll get you acquainted and answer any questions you may have.”
    Marc extended his hand, “Welcome to Southeastern State, Dr. Wyatt.”
    â€œI appreciate the invitation. It’s a pleasure to be here.”
    â€œI have a meeting so I’ll let you two get started,” she said above the shrill alarm of one of the cardiac monitors.
    â€œDr. Morales mentioned you’d probably want to begin by being briefed on Tess Ryan before we discussed the other patients.” Marc pointed toward the nursing station. “There’s a physician’s conference room over there.”
    â€œHow did you get interested in perinatology?” he asked Marc as they made their way past a portable X-ray machine.
    â€œI saw a lot of high-risk pregnancies at Northwestern during my OB residency. Most of the other residents hated complicated obstetrics. I really liked it.”
    â€œWell, if Southeastern State’s perinatology fellowship’s anything like Ohio State’s, I’m sure you’ve been working your tail off.”
    â€œIt hasn’t exactly been a pajama party, I’ll give you that. I was an optometrist for five years before I decided to go to med school, so I’m a little older than most ofthe other residents and fellows.” He grinned and held up a hand. “I know. It sounds kind of strange.”
    â€œNot really. I did a year of vet school before switching into medicine.”
    â€œAny regrets?” Marc inquired with a sidelong glance.
    â€œFrom time to time, I guess,” he answered. “Are you coming to dinner tomorrow night?”
    â€œI’m afraid not. No bottom-feeders. Only the elite are invited.”
    Jack chuckled. “Well, at least you can take comfort in the fact that you’re only a few months from the promised land. If it makes you feel any better, we all had to pay our dues.”
    The main part of the ICU was visible from the physician conference room through a large glass window. In the center of the room was a table with six chairs around it. Marc sat down, extending his legs and crossing them at the ankles. Jack took the seat directly across from him.
    â€œI heard you’ve spent quite a bit of time with these patients. I guess that makes you the GNS expert.”
    â€œI’m afraid GNS expert would be a strong contender for the oxymoron of the month.”
    Jack smiled. “How are the babies doing?”
    â€œThey seem to be holding their own—at least to this point. Two quad screens have been done on each of them, which have all been normal. The other hospitals are reporting the same thing. We are planning on—”
    Jack held up his hand. “Quad screen? My perinatology’s a little rusty. You’ll have to refresh my memory.”
    â€œBeginning at eighteen or nineteen weeks, we measurefour hormones levels in the mother’s blood. If any of them is abnormal, it can be an indication of fetal