"How do you feel?"

"Awful."

"What hurts?"

"My stomach. It is one big pain all across."

"Try to take a deep breath."

"That hurts too."

"Worse?"

"No, sort of equal." He tried a grin. He gritted his teeth.

Quinn wrote this down. She adjusted the IV. He was staring at the ceiling again. This was an indication of stress and pain. Every individual patient had their indications. This one stared at the ceiling with such intensity you would have thought it contained the answer to the riddles of life.

"What's up there? The cure for cancer?"

He turned his head and tried to smile.

"Nothing? I was hoping someone had left a note up there with incontrovertible proof that Oswald killed Kennedy on his own."

"Who?"

"Never mind. Too much for you right now. Here is the remote. Put the TV on and see if there is some mindless entertainment on there to take you mind off of it."

Quinn had photos on the back of her bulletin board, behind her monitor, like the other nurses. The others who took her place on other shifts had theirs. Someone had been there. A photo of Quinn and Paul, leaning against Quinn's car, was there, and had not been there before. It was a good photo. Her long hair was flying in the wind. (At work, it was always demurely up and earned her a few comments on being a schoolmarm or a nickname like Miss Prim.).

She put it back, next to her photo with her parents and herself at her graduation in a nurse's cap, the one of herself and Scott when she was elected Prom Queen, and the one of Dan and Kathleen with their three children, an older photo of a younger Dan and Kathleen, and the photo of a young Joe Quinn that she had copies of and had one of everywhere.

She looked up from consulting the monitors to see Dr. Monica Quartermaine wanting to talk to her. The doctor had three cases that were Quinn's, two cardiac patients and Zander Smith.

"I know it's strange, but I did the surgery on him," Dr. Quartermaine explained.

"Oh, yes, ok, for your daughter. That's so nice."

"Er, well, sort of," Dr. Quartermaine went on. "The thing is - during the surgery he was throwing PVCs, and it calmed down, then started up again, then calmed down again. It may be nothing but the stress from the surgery, but it was enough for me to believe I need two things: an EKG when he is able, and a family history for heart problems, especially arrythmias and especially Long Q-T Syndrome. And the whole personal history, with the doctor's names so we can get the records."

"Ok, I'll get that."

"Thanks. I'll write it in the chart to let Dr. Jones know."

Zander Smith was watching the races on TV.

"Oh cool. How's my man doing? I mean Jeff Gordon," Quinn said, looking at the screen.

"Just taken over fourth. There is a restart."

"Good going!" She started checking on him; blood pressure was ok, temperature too. She checked and re-adjusted the IV. "I have to ask you something."

He turned off the TV and looked at her.

"Dr. Quartermaine wants your history. Have you ever been hospitalized before?"

"Here."

"OK. Anywhere else?"

"No."

"Have you had any heart problems in your life?"

"No."

"Nothing at all."

"No."

"Any other major illnesses?"

"No."

"Really healthy."

"Yes."

"How is your mother's health?"

He looked away. "Fine," he said, after a moment.

"No heart problems? Your mother, I mean."

"Nothing. Not that I know of."

"Father?"

"Very healthy."

"Brothers and sisters?"

"Very healthy."

"How many?"

"One."

"No heart problems?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know, really."

"Well, nothing big. Obviously, never in the hospital for it."

"No, never."

"Anyone else related to you who ever had a heart problem?"

"Not that I know of."

"Ok, I only need one more thing. Who is your family doctor?"

"My what?"

"Family doctor. You know. Pediatrician. The one you went to when you got sick as a kid, and stuff. Minor stuff."

"None."

"Your parents must have taken you to the doctor."

"No."

"Didn't you ever get sick, not even the measles?"

"No." He smiled. "A model for perfect health."

"Where did they take you for a check up for school?"

"I wasn't sick."

"A check-up. Routine examination. Like the public schools require."

"I never went to a public school."

"Private schools require them too. I always had to get one, for private school."

"Rich family, huh?"

"No. Catholic School. Ok, then, where did you go to school?"

"Not around here."

"Where, then?"

"Florida."

Quinn was starting to lose patience. Keep your temper, she told herself. She thought of what she had trained herself to think of in these situations. It was Joe Quinn telling her, "temper has brought the Irish low many a time."

She breathed and asked, slowly, "What city in Florida?"

"It doesn't matter does it? They just say I'm fine."

"Doctors like to see that for themselves. In the notes from other doctors."

"I was here before and they didn't ask that."

"Before you didn't have such a serious injury, no doubt."

"No. But what do they need to know?"

"In surgery, something went on with your heart," she said, "that bothered Dr. Quartermaine. She just wants your records to check it out. Nothing to worry about. But you know doctors. They like to make sure."

"Impossible. Nothing has ever been wrong with me."

"This is a doctor that said this," Quinn said, gritting her teeth and bringing Joe Quinn's saying to mind again. So far, she had been great at patient relations.

"They're not perfect."

"I've never hit an injured patient before, so I'm leaving for now. But I'll come back later and you can tell me. Never has a single patient in my whole career ever made any difficulty about giving this information. Never."

"Your whole career? You're not old enough to stake stuff on it. How long is it?"

"One year, I'll have you know, but that's not the subject. I could find nurses who have been here 50 years who never had such trouble getting the answer to a simple question. And that question is, who is your family doctor? If you can't recall a name, we can help you if you tell us where you went to school. Goodbye. I'll be back."