Every Patient Tells a Story

Every Patient Tells A Story

Barbara Lessing stared out the window at the snowy field behind the hospital. The afternoon sky was dark with yet more snow to come. She looked at the slender figure in the bed. Her daughter, Crystal, barely twenty-two years old and healthy her entire life, was nowÐsomehowÐdying. The young woman had been in the Nassau University Medical Center ICU for two days; she’d been seen by a dozen doctors and had scores of tests, yet no one seemed to have the slightest idea of just what was killing her.



It all started at the dentist’s office. Crystal had had a couple of impacted wisdom teeth taken out the month before. But even after the teeth were gone, the pain persisted. She’d called her mother halfway across the state just about every day to complain. “Call your dentist,” she’d urged her daughter. And she had. Finally.



The dentist gave her a week’s worth of antibiotics and then another. After that her mouth felt betterÐbut she didn’t. She was tired. Achy. For the next week she’d felt like she was coming down with something. Then the bloody diarrhea started. And then the fevers. Why didn’t you go to the doctor sooner? the trim middle-aged woman scolded her daughter silently.



Barbara had gotten a call from a doctor in the emergency room of this suburban hospital the night before. Her daughter was ill, he told her. Deathly ill. She drove to Syracuse, caught the next flight to New York City, and drove to the sprawling academic medical center on Long Island. In the ICU, Dr. Daniel Wagoner, a resident in his second year of training, ushered her in to see her daughter. Crystal was asleep, her dark curly hair a tangled mat on the pillow. And she looked very thin. But most terrifying of allÐshe was yellow. Highlighter yellow. 


Wagoner could feel his heart racing as he stood looking at this jaundiced wisp of a girl lying motionless on the bed. The bright unnatural yellow of her skin was shiny with sweat. She had a fever of nearly 103¡. Her pulse was rapid but barely palpable and she was breathing much faster than normal despite the oxygen piped into her nose. She slept most of the time now and when awake she was often confused about where she was and how she had gotten there.

Excerpted from Every Patient Tells a Story by Lisa Sanders, MD Copyright © 2009 by Lisa Sanders. Excerpted by permission of Broadway, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.