Cub Sterling swirled and glanced swiftly over the face of the patient.
“Thank you. I’ll call by the Admitting Office, myself.” Then he shot at the mouse-haired woman a barrage of questions about the ward patients.
The interne gave the Sleeping Beauty a pouty stare. There would be no decompression. By now the blood sugars would have increased to six. They must be done before supper, too!
The nurse followed Dr. Sterling onto the wards and he began his rounds and gave his instructions. At the patient in Bed 11 he stared carefully and turning, snapped:
“How was that thyroid’s basal?”
After her response he walked over to the bed, took the woman’s pulse and said very absently:
“You are doing splendidly. Keep it up!”
The nurse followed him to the elevator and begged:
“You are going by the Admitting Office, Doctor? Will you return the blanks, or shall I keep them until tomorrow?”
He scowled and his black eyebrows met. Then he pushed the elevator button with precision.