Winter Daily Log—J.S. Transcendence . . . Davey G. (Gregorius) told me he’d just seen a forty-one-year-old pregnant Hispanic woman who came in with vaginal bleeding. First baby. He grinned, reached into the pocket of his white coat, and pulled out a photo of the ultrasound. “Baby okay,” he said, wide grin, slipping the photo back into his pocket. “I’m giving this picture to them,” he said. “They’re really scared. I want it to work out for them.” He continued toward a pretty woman on the other side of the room; she wore a running suit, sat on a gurney, and held on to her husband, standing next to her. They clutched hands and watched the young doctor approaching, fear in their eyes. I saw Davey show them the photograph and their expressions soften as he reassured them, “Baby okay.” Then I resumed my conversation with Yevgeniy Lukyanenko, one of Douglas [Jablon]’s patient reps, a compact, square-faced Ukrainian who looked so much like a youthful version of Nathan Lane, the actor, that I half expected him to break into a song-and-dance routine.
