196 Vickie is Dead
In the room, Vickie is lying on her bed, a private nurse holding a clear plastic tube attached to a ventilator up her nose. Since a trip to Italy, Vickie has grown weaker. Mark told me that she was taken home in an ambulance from a private hospital after she landed.
“Why don't you take her to the hospital?” I asked in a low voice.
“She's determined to go home,” Mark said. “No one can change her mind, and you know it.”
“The patient needs to rest. Please leave the room,” the middle-aged brown-haired nurse said politely.
Mark and I left the room just as Frade and Vickie's doctor came out of the other room. That was the room where they had been discussing Vickie's condition, and Frade's sullen face didn't look good.
It's terrible.
“Mark, please help me get Dr. Hans out of here.” Frade's voice was hoarse and tired, and the stubble on his face seemed to have grown overnight, making him look even gloomier.