the top of the heap

the top of the heap

fiction
edward w pritchard

To be at the top of the heap, the number one dog in the pack, the very top of the food chain was an envy-able place to find oneself. Around here to achieve celebrity status was the secret goal of everyone.

David T was a Doctor. A handsome Doctor. Urbane but approachable. He could have maybe played professional soccer, but he appropriately left that behind  time proper. Not just any Doctor, pulmonary, surgery of course and specializing in care of the elderly. All the right places to be. David T also worked at a large hospital and everyone referred him work. The most difficult cases, the most lucrative cases.

Saturday night at six PM. David T Doctor raced through the halls at the hospital where he routinely practiced his specialty. It was his time to work his magic. His hands were empty. Entering the room he looked among the charts for the blue pulmonary file. Clutching the chart to his chest he took a place among the small crowd of Doctors. Heart, General Practitioner, a pretty woman psychiatrist from India, if needed, and several other specialists. All the best in their fields.

Dr.David T had an ace up his sleeve. One of his nurse assistants from his office was here to meet him. She handed Dr T the flowers for the patient.

The patient was arriving in the room. Lights were lowered. Pushed on a gurney by two attentive ambulance drivers. Dressed in expensive new hospital finery. An eighty year old woman. Not too old , still treatable, and she had a feisty look about her, she would fight to get well. The celebrity had arrived. The proper patient, highly insured, motivated to treat, at the proper place, the big city hospital, surrounded by  specialists.

The Doctors in attendance began to clap. The clapping went on and on. Dr David out foxed the other specialists and handed the flowers to the old lady. She nodded at him and motioned for one of her attendant ambulance drivers to take the flowers. The other Doctors looked on with envy. Dr David T would be allowed to talk to the woman first.

The room was finally cleared, soft music played and the lights were low. Occasionally someone brought the old woman a cool drink. She had made it. Celebrity status. Fully insured, right place, right time, right circumstances. She felt like a queen sitting here as she waited for the next subject.