Author's Note: Thanks again for the reviews. I appreciate them. I don't own anything but this story.

Episode 5: Damage Control

"Oh, you're back. We were wondering when you were coming in. Sean kept asking about you." He turned around and saw Lila standing at the entrance of the kitchen. He slowly put the container back into the refrigerator and closed the door.

"Yeah, I just got a drink on the way home with Gerald." She smiled.

"Well, do you want to come to bed?" He stared hard at her. She was wearing a shiny, silvery nightgown with shoulder straps. It was hard for him to focus on the pressing topic with her dressed like that.

"Maybe, in a bit."

"I'll be waiting." She turned and started walking away.

"So, how was the fondue?" She stopped in her tracks.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Her voice remained calm and controlled like the lawyer she was.

"I thought it was more bitter than usual."

"Maybe, you've forgotten how it tastes; we haven't been to Chez Paris for a while."

"You're right. We haven't. But you have." She turned around slowly.

"I don't know what you're talking about, honey. I came home early tonight. Spent some time with Sean."

"You did a pretty clumsy job concealing the evidence for an attorney." She smiled at him.

"I think you're drunk, honey. Why don't we go to bed and I'll forget that this happened?" She started to walk away again until Arnold stopped her.

"So who's the lucky guy?" She turned around again.

"Honestly, dear, I don't know what you're talking about." He raised his voice slightly.

"I can't believe you would keep lying to me like that. We're not in court." She whirled around quickly and began walking towards him.

"That's so typical of you men. You assume that your wives are cheating on you just because they're out working late that they're automatically cheating."

"You're wrong about that, Lila. I trusted you when you said you were working late. I always thought people worked late in offices instead of posh restaurants."

"And who told you that I was there?"

"Gerald and Phoebe saw you when they were on their anniversary dinner."

"And you would believe them over your own wife?"

"I'm not sure what to believe." They stared at each other. An uncomfortable silence grew.

"Well, where we go from here, Arnold?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I'm going to bed. Come if you want." She turned around and walked quickly to their bedroom, slamming the door shut. Arnold sighed and rubbed his eyes. The couch never looked so far away.

"Did you tell him?" Phoebe sat up in bed.

"Yeah, I told him. He wasn't too pleased." Gerald slid in beside her and sighed.

"Well, he had to know. He would have found out anyway; better sooner than later."

"He really loves her. I mean, he's loved her since he was nine and decided that he like-liked her." He laughed at his Lila impression, but Phoebe didn't join him. Gerald turned to her seriously.

"Wasn't that funny? We always make fun of Lila." Phoebe gave him a small smile.

"No, it wasn't that. It's just a little ironic that Arnold's in this situation. Loving someone for that long and..."

"Oh, you mean like..."

"Exactly." She pulled herself closer towards him and rested her head on his shoulder. He snaked his arm around her.

"Let's just get some sleep."

"You're early today," chuckled Debbie at the admit desk as Helga trudged into the ER.

"Thought I'd make up for yesterday. Wartz wouldn't like it if I came in late again." She headed towards the locker-room, put away her coat, and changed into some scrubs.

"We're out of coffee, Debbie."

"I know, Dr. Greene complained about that yesterday." Helga walked over to the soda machine and bought a Diet Coke.

"I don't know how you can drink those." Debbie pointed to Helga's drink.

"It's an acquired taste." She took a small sip and wrinkled her face. "That I'm still learning to acquire."

"Excuse me people; can I have your attention, please?" Wartz walked in followed by an elderly doctor dressed in an old lab coat. He was balding except for some white hair on the sides of his head and a white mustache. He walked very slowly but with great poise.

"This is Dr. Murray Steiglitz. He's going to be assisting us here in the ER for a while. You should remember him from all the times we went to see him for check-ups when we were kids. He's a legend. Learn from him." Dr. Steiglitz smiled and shook hands with everyone.

"Well, Murray, I'll let you get settled in. Show these people a thing or two about medicine." Helga rolled her eyes.

"Not going to grace us with your presence today, Vince?"

"Unfortunately, no. I have a board meeting in about twenty minutes so if you'll excuse me." He walked towards the elevator. Helga glanced at Dr. Steiglitz who was holding his right wrist tightly in an awkward position.

"Are you all right, Dr. Steiglitz?" He looked up at her a bit embarrassed.

"Oh, yes," he replied in a gravelly voice. "My arthritis is acting up again."

"What made you decide to come back to the hospital?"

"Well, I got kind of tired of the private practice routine. Same patients day in and day out. Fill out a prescription; give them an allergy or a migraine shot; gets kind of old, and well, I just wanted to see if I could still do hospital work." Helga smiled.

"Well, we're glad you're here. Like Vince said, we can learn a lot from you." As they were talking, Gerald and Phoebe entered the building. Gerald's eyes lit up when he saw the old man.

"Dr. Steiglitz? Is that you?" The old man smiled warmly at his former patient.

"I knew that your voice would come back to normal after I took out your tonsils." They shook hands.

"I didn't know that you were still practicing."

"I didn't either." They chuckled. Dr. Steiglitz spoke up.

"You know, Gerald, I was so proud of you when your father told me you finished medical school. You really deserved it."

"Well, I had a good role model." Dr. Steiglitz gestured towards Phoebe.

"Who is this lovely young woman? Surely she can't be yours Gerald?" She smiled.

"I'm Phoebe Heyerdahl, Dr. Steiglitz. I'm supposed to be the chief here, and I'm supposed to be Gerald's wife if he ever gets around to asking." She grinned slyly at him and Gerald turned away. Dr. Steiglitz chuckled.

"Better not let this one get away, Gerald." Phoebe walked towards the locker-room. Gerald shook his head.

"Well, Dr. Steiglitz, I better scrub up." They shook hands again and Gerald left. When he left, the old man snuck off into a corner and gripped his wrist tightly. It was trembling noticeably. He quickly opened a bottle of pills and took two of them, washing them down with a long drink from the water fountain. He took a deep breath and sighed heavily.

His pager vibrated noisily on the table beside the coach. He reached blindly for it and managed to shut it off. Groaning, he rolled of the couch and felt a sharp wave of pain running up his neck. He walked slowly into the bathroom, took out two aspirin and swallowed them quickly. He splashed some cold water on his face, brushed his teeth, and cleaned his glasses. His pager went off again; it was the hospital telling him that he was late.

"Excuse me, excuse me, can we get some help over here?" A middle aged woman called from the entrance. She was flanked by her husband and daughter who seemed barely able to stand. Phoebe walked over to them.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"We've been having these terrible headaches and this sense of nausea and dizziness for a couple of hours."

"All of you?"

"Yes."

"Hmm, any other symptoms? Fever? Fatigue?"

"We have been feeling unusually tired. I could hardly get myself out of bed this morning for some reason, and I always get up by six A.M."

"And all of you are feeling this way?"

"Yes." Phoebe scratched her head.

"Well, I'm not sure what this is exactly, ma'am. These symptoms are not really consistent with any specific disease. I could..." Dr. Steiglitz quickly stepped in.

"Ma'am, what she's meaning to say is that she suspects that it could be carbon monoxide poisoning."

"What? How can that be?" The woman looked incredulous.

"Well, how long has it been since you've used your fireplace?"

"Just last night."

"Maybe you should get it checked out. If you don't maintain your chimney, the levels of carbon monoxide can build up and lead to poisoning. You're lucky you came here early." He turned to Phoebe.

"Ok, why don't we give them some supplemental oxygen for four hours; just facemasks. Also, I want a CBC, CPK, urinalysis, cardiac enzymes, salicylate level, ECG, and CXR."

"Are all of those tests really necessary?" asked the woman in shock.

"Ma'am, CO poisoning can lead to neurological and cardiological problems. We need to make sure that we can rule those out. Debbie, let's get to it." The nurse came over and led the family into exam room 2. Phoebe looked at Dr. Steiglitz, still a little amazed.

"How did you know that?"

"Still got it." He walked away, chuckling.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Sheena." Arnold walked in clad in his scrubs.

"No rest for the weary?" Arnold smiled at her joke.

"Not when the rest was on your overstuffed couch."

"There's a young woman in curtain room 1 waiting for someone to see her."

"You want to come join me?" They walked over towards the room. Arnold pulled back the curtain.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Greene. What seems to be the problem?" There was a young woman lying down on the bed, sweating and with pale looking skin. Standing beside her was another woman. Both were in their early twenties.

"My roommate has been pretty sick lately. She's had this fever for a couple of days and she doesn't want to eat." Arnold frowned.

"Any other symptoms? Sore throat? Muscle aches? Fatigue?" The woman in the bed spoke up.

"My back's been hurting for a while." Arnold took his stethoscope and listened to her heart.

"Take a few deep breaths, please." He listened intensely.

"Your heart-beat is a bit erratic. I'm only getting these faint heart murmurs." He turned to Sheena.

"Let's get an ECG, echo, and 2 sets of blood cultures to send down to path." Sheena nodded and left to get the equipment. The young woman turned to Arnold.

"What's going to happen?"

"Well, I'm a little concerned about your heart-rate. We're going to draw some blood and run an ECG to see your heart-rate."

"You're not going to give me any medicine?"

"Well, I want to see what the results of the test are first, and then we'll go from there."

"I can't take any medication." Arnold raised an eyebrow.

"I don't understand. According to your chart, you didn't list any allergies towards any types of medication." The young woman spoke softly.

"It's not that. I'm a Christian Scientist. I'm not supposed to accept medication." Arnold frowned.

"Well, as your physician, I'm legally obligated to treat whatever illness you have."

"I understand that, but my beliefs state that I cannot accept such treatment."

"She's right, doctor." Arnold turned around and faced an elderly couple who had just entered the room.

"I better go, Yvonne." The young woman's roommate hugged her and walked quickly out of the room.

"Are you Yvonne's parents?"

"Yes, doctor, we are, and we're here to make sure that she does not receive any medication. We have brought a certified practitioner to ensure that Yvonne gets the best possible care under our guidelines." Arnold was shocked.

"There's a chance that your daughter might have acute endocarditis which means that her heart valves could be infected." Yvonne's father spoke up.

"We understand that, doctor, and we are prepared to treat the disease using our methods."

"She could die within hours if she doesn't receive antibiotics."

"You underestimate the power of prayer."

"I'm just trying to help." Another man walked into the curtain area, wearing a striped polo shirt and blue jeans.

"Ah, yes, Jonathan, I was wondering when you were coming. Doctor, may I introduce Mr. Jonathan Miller, our Christian Science practitioner. He has worked for us in the past and has never failed us, and I see no reason why he should now." Arnold nodded curtly at the visitor. The man cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, doctor, but I believe that you should leave now. Your services are no longer required."

"But..."

"Please, doctor, unless you plan to join us in prayer." Arnold gave a hard stare at the minister.

"God helps those who help themselves." He turned and walked quickly out of the room.

"What do we have?" Dr. Steiglitz walked alongside the EMT.

"10 year old boy, bee-sting on the playground, starts having this allergic reaction, anaphylaxis."

"Ok, let's get a tube in him and bag him." He tried to slide the tube down the boy's trachea but the throat was swollen and blocking the passage.

"Damn, his throat's swelling; can't get it in. Epipen, please." Nadine quickly inserted the IV into his arm.

"Swelling's still not going down; he needs an airway."

"Ok, let's get ready for a trache. Local anesthesia only, scalpel please." He grabbed the scalpel and was about to cut, when he noticed that his hand was beginning to tremble. He gripped his wrist tightly.

"Dr. Steiglitz, are you ready?"

"Give me a second."

"It's now or never." He quickly raised the scalpel over the boy's neck and lowered it, hands still trembling.

"Come on, come on." He made a clean cut into the skin, but his hand trembled again and the blade slipped aside. Blood squirted out from the severed vein. He leapt back.

"Damn! Give me some suction and a clamp. And get Johanssen in here." He sighed as he tried to stop the bleeding.

"What's going on?" Gerald rushed into the room.

"My hand slipped when I was doing a trache."

"His oxygen levels are falling." Nadine quipped.

"Ok, give me some suction." Nadine began sucking up the excess blood. Gerald clamped the vein in an effort to stop the bleeding. However, the boy continued to bleed.

"His life signs are falling. Oxygen levels low." Nadine said quietly. Gerald sighed. The blood was continuing to squirt.

"3:30 PM. Hillwood Memorial. Pronounced by Dr. Johanssen." The boy's mother was outside the room and started crying. Dr. Steiglitz stood frozen beside the table, an ashen expression on his face. Nadine went outside to comfort the mother. Gerald turned towards him.

"Let's take a walk."

"Phoebe, I don't know what to do here." Arnold sat across from her in the lounge and rubbed his eyes.

"You're saying that they won't accept any care whatsoever?"

"Aside from the blood-tests, no."

"We are legally obligated to provide care."

"They say that their beliefs prohibit any medication. There are records of families going to court over this."

"And they won?"

"To my knowledge, yes." Phoebe sighed.

"I don't know, Arnold. All we can do is accept their wishes."

"I just can't believe that they're going to let her die." He held his head in his hands. Phoebe walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

They walked slowly through the double doors outside of the building. Gerald stared off into the horizon while Dr. Steiglitz stared at his feet.

"What happened in there?" Dr. Steiglitz continued to stare at his feet.

"I don't know. My hand just slipped; that's all."

"You could do a trache in your sleep."

"I still can." He grabbed his hand tightly.

"What's wrong?" His hand was trembling noticeably.

"It's nothing, just arthritis."

"Let me see your hand." Slowly, he took his hands out of his pockets, revealing a trembling right hand.

"Why didn't you tell us you had Parkinson's?"

"I thought I could treat it; I thought it wouldn't be an issue. I've been taking L-Dopa."

"What on earth were you thinking treating patients when you had Parkinson's?" Dr. Steiglitz sighed.

"It's not easy giving up what you do; who you are. I thought I could control it; the patients lose confidence when they see the doctor is sick." He looked at Gerald with a pained expression.

"You know that you won't be able to practice medicine anymore."

"I know, but I don't want it to end like this. Let me just have one more patient, even if it's just to bandage a wound." Gerald sighed.

"Ok, one last patient." They walked back into the building.

Arnold listened outside the curtain. They were still in prayer. He quietly opened the curtain and stood in a corner.

"Amen." The four people raised their heads and opened their eyes. Yvonne stared at him in surprise and the practitioner was not too pleased to see him.

"Excuse me, doctor; I thought we said that Yvonne would not be receiving medication."

"I didn't come to give her any medication. I just want to talk." The parents stared at Arnold suspiciously.

"You can search my pockets; I have no medication."

"It's ok; I don't mind talking to him." They nodded grudgingly and stepped outside the room. Arnold pulled up a chair and sat next to Yvonne. She smiled at him.

"The test results weren't good, were they?"

"No, they weren't."

"I have endocarditis?"

"Yes."

"How long do I have left?"

"A couple of hours if you're lucky." She smiled sadly.

"You must think we're crazy, not accepting any medication." He smiled.

"You might be, or you might know something that everyone else doesn't know." Silence fell between them. Arnold spoke again.

"You go to the college?"

"Yeah, I'm a sophomore."

"What are you studying?"

"Egyptology."

"A useless but beautiful subject." They laughed quietly. Arnold looked at her seriously.

"Are you afraid?" She held out her hand, and he took it.

"Yeah." Her breathing started slowing down. She smiled at Arnold and squeezed his hand a couple of times before falling asleep. He gently removed his hand and motioned for Nadine to come over.

"5:00, Hillwood Medical, Pronounced by Dr. Greene." The parents and the practitioner entered the room. The parents began sobbing and held her hands tightly. Arnold quietly slipped out of the room.

"Our father, who art in heaven..."

"I don't want to get a shot! I don't want to!" The little boy cried in curtain room 2. Gerald walked in followed by Dr. Steiglitz. He smiled at the boy.

"Hey, kiddo. Looks like you need a booster shot."

"I don't want to!" The boy turned away from Gerald and covered his arm. Dr. Steiglitz stepped forward and knelt down next to the boy.

"Let's play a game first." The boy looked up at the kindly, old man.

"Ok."

"Close your eyes, and tell me what you see." The boy closed his eyes, and Dr. Steiglitz quickly prepared the syringe. He squirted the needle once in the air and steadied his hand.

"I see Prometheus. He stole fire from the gods. Zeus chained him to a mountain. Everyday an eagle would come and eat his liver. The liver would grow back, but the eagle would eat it again. It would never stop and Prometheus cried."

"Really, that's pretty bad, huh." He quickly inserted the needle into the boy's shoulder and withdrew it quickly. He used a piece of gauze to wipe away some of the blood. He then placed a bandage on the site of the shot.

"There, all done." The boy opened his eyes.

"What's your name?"

"Derek."

"Derek, I want to thank you."

"For what?"

"For the story and for being my very last patient." He shook hands with the boy and walked out of the room. Gerald stared at his old mentor. 'Still got it', he thought to himself.

Arnold walked out of the building and shivered in the cold night air.

"Walking alone again, football-head?" Helga snuck up behind him. He smiled.

"You always manage to sneak up on me." They fell into step.

"I'm sorry about that girl."

"Yeah, well, they made their choice." Silence. He looked at her intently.

"You know, Helga, my professor at med school told me that sometimes, the hardest thing isn't saving a patient's life; it's knowing when to let them go. I guess that that holds true for everything, not just patients." Helga swallowed a nervous gulp.

"When did you start getting all philosophical, football-head?" They laughed together. Helga spoke up.

"I'm sorry about Lila, Arnold. Phoebe told me about it." He smiled sadly.

"Yeah, I guess that's one thing that I'll have to learn to let go." He turned to her.

"You have anything you need to let go?" She reared back in surprise.

"Um, no, not really." He smiled at her.

"You're lucky then. Good night, Helga."

"Yeah, I'm lucky." She whispered to herself as she watched him walk up the stairs.

He opened the door. The apartment was completely dark. He turned on the lights and hung up his coat. He headed towards the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator looking for a snack when he saw a note taped on to the table. He walked over and opened the note. His eyes widened as he read, and he threw the note down on the table and rushed towards his son's room.

"Short-man?" He opened the door. The room was empty except for some of Sean's toys lying around. He sat down on the side of Sean's bed and cried.