Because two people had survived.
17. Recovery
AT 1147 HOURS, MARK HALL WAS BENT OVER THE computer, staring at the console that showed the laboratory results from Peter Jackson and the infant. The computer was giving results as they were finished by the automated laboratory equipment; by now, nearly all results were in.
The infant, Hall observed, was normal. The computer did not mince words:
SUBJECT CODED-- INFANT-- SHOWS ALL LABORATORY VALUES WITHIN NORMAL LIMITS
However, Peter Jackson was another problem entirely. His results were abnormal in several respects.
SUBJECT CODED JACKSON, PETER
LABORATORY VALUES NOT WITHIN NORMAL LIMITS FOLLOW
TEST : NORMAL : VALUE
HEMATOC : 38-54 : 21 INITIAL
25 REPEAT
29 REPEAT
33 REPEAT
37 REPEAT
BUN : 10-20 : 50
COUNTS RETIC : 1 : 6
BLOOD SMEAR SHOWS MANY IMMATURE ERYTHROCYTE FORMS
TEST : NORMAL : VALUE
PRO TIME : L2 : 12
BLOOD PH : 7.40 : 7.31
SGOT : 40 : 75
SED RATE : 9 : 29
AMYLASE : 70-200 : 450
Some of the results were easy to understand, others were not. The hematocrit, for example, was rising because Jackson was receiving transfusions of whole blood and packed red cells. The BUN, or blood urea nitrogen, was a test of kidney function and was mildly elevated, probably because of decreased blood flow.
Other analyses were consistent with blood loss. The reticulocyte count was up from 1 to 6 per cent. Jackson had been anemic for some time. He showed immature red-cell forms, which meant that his body was struggling to replace lost blood, and so had to put young, immature red cells into circulation.
The prothrombin time indicated that while Jackson was bleeding from somewhere in his gastrointestinal tract, he had no primary bleeding problem: his blood clotted normally.
The sedimentation rate and SGOT were indices of tissue destruction. Somewhere in Jackson's body, tissues were dying off.
But the pH of the blood was a bit of a puzzle. At 7.31, it was too acid, though not strikingly so. Hall was at a loss to explain this. So was the computer.
SUBJECT CODED JACKSON, PETER
DIAGNOSTIC PROBABILITIES
1. ACUTE AND CHRONIC BLOOD LOSS ETIOLOGY GASTROINTESTINAL .884 NO OTHER STATISTICALLY SIGNIFICANT SOURCES.
2. ACIDOSIS ETIOLOGY UNEXPLAINED FURTHER DATA REQUIRED SUGGEST HISTORY
Hall read the printout and shrugged. The computer might suggest he talk to the patient, but that was easier said than done. Jackson was comatose, and if he had ingested anything to make his blood acid, they would not find out until he revived.
On the other hand, perhaps he could test blood gases. He turned to the computer and punched in a request for blood gases.
The computer responded stubbornly.
PATIENT HISTORY PREFERABLE TO LABORATORY ANALYSES
Hall typed in: "Patient comatose."
The computer seemed to consider this, and then flashed back:
PATIENT MONITORS NOT COMPATIBLE WITH COMA -- EEG SHOWS ALPHA WAVES DIAGNOSTIC OF SLEEP
"I'll be damned," Hall said. He looked through the window and saw that Jackson was, indeed, stirring sleepily. He crawled down through the tunnel to his plastic suit and leaned over the patient.
"Mr. Jackson, wake up..."
Slowly, he opened his eyes and stared at Hall. He blinked, not believing.
"Don't be frightened," Hall said quietly. "You're sick, and we have been taking care of you. Do you feel better?"
Jackson swallowed, and nodded. He seemed afraid to speak. But the pallor of his skin was gone; his cheeks had a slight pinkish tinge; his fingernails were no longer gray.
"How do you feel now?"
"Okay... Who are you?
"I am Dr. Hall. I have been taking care of you. You were bleeding very badly. We had to give you a transfusion."
He nodded, accepting this quite calmly. Somehow, his manner rung a bell for Hall, who said, "Has this happened to you before?"
"Yes," he said. "Twice."
"How did it happen before?"
"I don't know where I am," he said, looking around the room. "Is this a hospital? Why are you wearing that thing?"
"No, this isn't a hospital. It is a special laboratory in Nevada."
"Nevada?" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "But I'm in Arizona..."
"Not now. We brought you here, so we could help you."
"How come that suit?"
"We brought you from Piedmont. There was a disease in Piedmont. You are now in an isolation chamber."
"You mean I'm contagious?"
"Well, we don't know for sure. But we must--"
"Listen," he said, suddenly trying to get up, "this place gives me the creeps. I'm getting out of here. I don't like it here."
He struggled in the bed, trying to move against the straps. Hall pushed him back gently.
"Just relax, Mr. Jackson. Everything will be all right, but you must relax. You've been a sick man."
Slowly, Jackson lay back. Then: "I want a cigarette."
"I'm afraid you can't have one."
"What the hell, I want one."
"I'm sorry, smoking is not allowed."
"Look here, young fella, when you've lived as long as I have you'll know what you can do and what you can't do. They told me before. None of that Mexican food, no liquor, no butts. I tried it for a spell. You know how that makes a body feel? Terrible, just terrible."
"Who told you?"
"The doctors."
"What doctors?"
"Those doctors in Phoenix. Big fancy hospital, all that shiny equipment and all those shiny white uniforms. Real fancy hospital. I wouldn't have gone there, except for my sister. She insisted. She lives in Phoenix, you know, with that husband of hers, George. Stupid ninny. I didn't want no fancy hospital, I just wanted to rest up, is all. But she insisted, so I went."