He insisted upon a CAT scan of my head, which was negative, and an X-ray of my shoulder, which also didn’t show any serious damage—“a strained muscle” was the diagnosis. As I waited in one of the examining rooms after I’d been told I’d been discharged, I glanced at a clock on the wall. It was almost four; Curso would be calling my hotel room soon.“Could I make a phone call?” I asked one of the nurses who spoke fluent English.“Of course,” she said.I didn’t know the number for the hotel, but she got it from Information and placed the call, asking to be connected to Mr. Curso’s room. When he came on the line, she handed me the phone.“Tony, it’s Jessica. There’s been a slight change in plans. I’m in the hospital.”He gasped.“I’m all right, Tony. I had an accident, that’s all. I’m fine.”He asked which hospital I was calling from and I gave him the name.“I’ll be there in fifteen, twenty minutes, Jessica, depending on the traffic. Stay right where you are.”The doctor, a sweet-natured middle-aged man, told me, “I suggest that you rest for a day and do not hesitate to take the pain medicine you have been given whenever you need it.
