told Sally,” Diane hissed. She hoped the irritation in her voice would mask her red face.
“Look Diane, about the whole Price Is Right thing, I’m sorry. I won’t do that any more.”
“I should hope not.” Diane’s eyes blazed with fury.
“Uh—uh, I’m sorry about everything else too,” Moe stammered.
“Me too.”
Diane glared at Moe, not saying anything more. After an awkward moment of silence, Moe whispered, “you want me to bring you anything back?”
“No! For the hundredth time, no.”
Diane watched Moe retreat down the hall, then retrieved the vials from her pockets. She absentmindedly toyed with the vials for a minute, then carefully labeled the specimen containers, Howard H. Swensen and Robert E. Robinson. Opening the counter drawer, she grabbed her log book and meticulously entered the serial numbers stamped on each vial by the manufacturer as the plastic cooled. For Howard H. Swensen, she entered #001198-G and for Robert E. Robinson she wrote #001199-G. Finally, she placed the vials in the pathology “out-box” and returned her log book in the drawer.
Russell Wright reclined the seat as far as it would go, but his Southwest Airline’s chair never angled far enough to accommodate his lanky frame. The meetings in New Orleans had been superb. He was anxious to get back to St. George and try the new procedure for female incontinence that he had learned. The early data for the fascial sling cystourethropexy was excellent with much better statistical results than for the Stamey or the Peyera. As usual, Moe would be pessimistic. He would probably mouth one of his tired cliches, “medicine is not a fashion show that you change each fall when new styles came out;” or “don’t be the first to try something new or the last;” or even worse, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” Rusty was growing tired of Moe’s rigid, uncompromising attitude and his folksy, country cliches. If it wasn’t for him, Moe would still be a nineteenth-century country doc, complete with painted wagon, patent drugs and a traveling medicine show. And to carry the analogy further, he probably would still be treating gonorrhea with potassium permanganate urethral irrigations and deep tissue infections with turpentine and a poultice.
Grudgingly, however, Rusty had to admit that Moe was a good surgeon. He could read the technical description of a surgical procedure, such as the fascial sling in one day, then walk into the operating room the next day and perform the surgery. Not just do the operation, but do it well. He, Rusty, was the one who always read the medical journals and went to the AUA meetings. Moe, who almost never went to meetings, would never even hear about new techniques if not for him. But without Moe there for backup, Rusty lacked the confidence and the guts to try new procedures. It frustrated him that he had to rely on Moe for anything, especially surgical assistance. Sometimes, actually quite a bit lately, he wondered why he had ever joined Moe’s practice. They were such complete opposites.
Moe had recruited Rusty as he was finishing his fifth and final year of residency at the University of Utah. Now, Rusty wondered why he hadn’t taken the job he’d been offered in Ogden at that same time. In reality, he knew why. St. George had an Arizona climate, whereas, Ogden had a Wyoming climate. But still, he couldn’t help but think that he had made a mistake. Undoubtedly, his life and his professional practice would have been more satisfying, more complete, in Ogden. At least there, he would not have had Moe as a senior partner. Rusty hadn’t made many mistakes in his thirty-two years of life, but perhaps joining Moe’s practice was the biggest, the one with the most lasting consequences.
Rusty had grown up in a typical middle-class Utah family. His father, a religion professor at Brigham Young University, was never home much, but he was a good provider. His mother, a full time housewife, raised him and his five siblings in typical conservative Mormon fashion, insisting on strict discipline, while at the same time, using the teachings of the church as a template for life. During the week, the family was rarely all together, but on Sunday they were scrubbed, cleaned and collected in the living room, then herded into the station wagon and driven to church. Although it was rare, even among Mormon kids, Rusty enjoyed church and rapidly advanced through the various offices of the Aaronic Priesthood, deacon, teacher, and finally priest. He was rewarded for his diligence by being called to the office of president in both the deacons and priests quorums.
In high school, Rusty excelled in academics and basketball. Accomplishments of his senior year included graduation with high honors, and he was voted to the all-state basketball team by the Deseret News. After high school, he enrolled in BYU for one year, then secured a two-year hiatus from college for a Mormon mission to Bolivia. While on his mission, Rusty, as expected, was very successful in convincing dozens of Bolivians to abandon their Catholic faith and be baptized into the Mormon Church. It did trouble him a little that half his baptisms were young Bolivian maidens who were obviously as much in love with him and the image of the rich-Yankee-gringo as they were with the doctrines of the church. But in a way, the end did justify the means. After all he was doing God’s work.
As a spin-off to his labor in the mission field, Rusty learned to love the church, and vowed to always remain active and true to his testimony. After returning from his mission, Rusty returned to BYU and resumed his studies. Majoring in zoology with a minor in chemistry, he eventually graduated summa cum lauda. It was during his last year at BYU that he applied and was easily accepted into medical school at University of Utah.
Just one month prior to graduation from BYU, Rusty married Faye, a woman he had dated intermittently since high school. Faye was a rather plain, domineering woman, who constantly tried to cover her homely features by lacquering on layers of make-up. Furthermore, it seemed she constantly wore loose, flowing clothing in a valiant effort to hide her steadily growing figure. But she did share Rusty’s religious and moral values, and though the sex was not great, the companionship was good. Through the years, they conceived and were still raising four children, two boys and two girls, all of whom Rusty was justifiably proud.
Following medical school, Rusty elected to stay at the U of U for his residency training in urology. His performance was above reproach. He was elected Chief Resident after just three years in the program, a position usually reserved for fifth-year residents. After completing the prescribed five years and passing his specialty boards, he had joined Dr. Moses Mathis in private practice. Rusty had considered staying in academic medicine, but in the end, he felt he was not particularly well-suited for the political games associated with academia, and without question, university physicians did not command the same salary as those in private practice.
Rusty excelled in private practice as well. Moe made him a full partner after only eight months. Of course, this early partnership was, in part, due to Faye’s constant nagging for more money, and eventually Moe capitulated. It seemed a little surprising now, but initially, he and Moe had not only been partners, but social friends as well. Their social and professional relationship had started to sour when Moe and Annie got a divorce. Moe had eventually started dating, as well as doing some drinking and was never really active in the church again. Not the kind of lifestyle Rusty and Faye wanted to be associated with, either socially or professionally.
However, it would be hard to leave St. George. Rusty had a busy practice, almost as busy as Moe’s. The kids were in school and they had made new friends. Uprooting them from St. George would be somewhat akin to trying to extract an 8mm stone from a ureter that was 2mm in diameter ureter. It could be done, but not easily. And Faye didn’t want to leave either. She had developed her own circle of friends. She was also a member of a couple of elite ladies’ social clubs and president of the Relief Society.
Rusty had considered breaking clean from Moe and establishing his own practice, and that was still an option,
