The Iceberg Guy
Chapter Four of my work in progress novel about the AIDS pandemic 1981-84, The Iceberg Guy
Chapter Four – Friday, May 1st 1981.
It took Jim the best part of five working days to get the trip to New York authorised. Even then accounts would only pay for flights, not a hotel, and so it had to be a day-only visit on the Friday. During the lead up to the trip, he and Maggie had got a sense, from making dozens of calls and shaking various branches, that there were more unusual cases involving male homosexuals out there. A strong sense that the original ten were the tip of the iceberg. Their first job was to find out exactly how big the iceberg was.
Wayne Shimera’s case notes arrived on the Monday. The main additional piece of information that shone out was that three out of three patients who had lymphocyte studies performed, had leukopenia. When Cooper called to find out if he had any more information about this, Shimera replied that all three had drastically reduced numbers of T-4 helper cells. One of the patients had none at all!
Over a very early coffee before heading to the airport, Jim had wondered to Maggie what the hell kind of disease tracked down and killed specific blood cells.
‘No idea.’
‘Why are they called T-cells?’
‘I’m not entirely sure. I think they have something to do with the thymus gland, but don’t quote me.’
As he headed out of the door of the CDC headquarters at 6a.m. he bumped into Jean-Marie Montreau, who hurriedly shoved a piece of paper into Cooper’s jacket pocket.
‘Call this guy when you land. If anyone knows what’s going on with homosexuals, it’s him. Bon voyage.’
So it was that at ten o’clock Jim was sat opposite a tall, South African born, angry-looking medical practitioner. Joe Summer, divided his time between Mount Sinai Medical School and a private practice on West Twelfth Street, Greenwich Village. Summers had chosen an Italian restaurant called Da Silvano for the meeting and they were sat face to face over their cappuccinos and hazelnut gianduia cannoli.
‘Nice place. Authentic.’
‘Very Godfather.’
‘Yes. I’m assuming you won’t do a Michael Corleone on me.’
‘No. De Niro as Jake la Motta is more style.’
‘OK.’
‘You wanted to see me?’
‘As I explained over the phone, Jean-Marie Montreau said you were the man to ask about some mystery illnesses that have cropped up recently.’
‘You’ve come on a four hour round trip on a Friday just to see me?’
‘No.’
‘Who else?’
‘I may tell you later. I may not. Do you want to help me or don’t you?’
‘Mystery illnesses you said?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Where?’
‘In gay men. Here in New York, and in California.’
‘What mystery illnesses? These guys have got so many things going on there can’t be any surprises left. Amongst many things I’m a STD doctor and I can tell you that business is booming! I’ve got over a thousand gay guys in my official patient list, hundreds more unofficially, and they’ve got, or have had, every STD on the planet. Not only that but gay bowel syndrome is going through the roof.’
‘Gay bowel syndrome?’
‘Infestations of the gastrointestinal system. Increased by 7,000 percent in the last six years. I don’t see what’s left.’
Summers looked hard at Cooper.
‘Unless you’re talking about the eighteen KS cases?’
‘Eighteen?’
‘Yes, plus one of my own.’
‘Where?’
‘NYU. You knew about them?’
‘I found out about five in LA, and five here, a week ago. I didn’t know about the other thirteen. How long have you known?’
’About a week. I’m bloody livid.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the first cases started appearing in September ’79. No-one said a bloody dicky bird until my friend Joyce William started making enquiries.’
‘Really?’
‘As I said, I had a case. I asked Joyce about it. She called the National Cancer Institute, who told her to contact Alfred Kluntz at the NYU Medical Center.’
Summers looked again at Jim.
‘Let me guess. You’re seeing Kluntz?’
‘Yes. He never mentioned eighteen.’
‘I bet he didn’t. Too scared. Embarrassed. Ashamed. And rightly so.’
‘Why embarrassed?’
‘Eighteen patients is one hell of a cluster. Eighteen months is a hell of a long time to keep other doctors, doctors with hundreds of gay male patients, in the dark. It’s nothing short of a scandal. As soon as that outbreak occurred, we New York doctors, especially the ones with large gay male cohorts, should have been told what to look for and what to do with suspected cases. It’s disgusting. Incomprehensible. Absolutely extraordinary. By the time you’ve got five you know something is going on. You know that.’
‘Yes.’
Summers drank some of his by now cold cappuccino, all the while looking at Cooper.
‘And you’re seeing Lermer too.’
‘Yes. How did you know?’
‘They come as a pair. Apparently. A dangerous pair to boot.’
‘Dangerous?’
‘Kluntz saw his first KS case in January. He’s a society skin doctor. He’s not equipped to deal with KS. And as for Lermer, I know she’s a polio survivor but come on. She saw her first case in September ’79 and nobody else knew about it for a year and a half. She’s got no expertise at all. Hardly any experience. Just out of medical school, and she’s giving massive doses of chemo drugs to these guys. No wonder they’re dying. KS is triggered by immune system suppression, and she’s given them chemotherapy. I mean, what the hell. These two buffoons are grabbing all the patients, and they’re slowly being killed off. It’s outrageous. I’m telling you, my guy’s not going anywhere near NYU. I’ll send him to a real pro. A guy with experience, who know what he’s talking about.’
‘Have you spoken to Kluntz or Lermer?’
‘As it happens, I called Kluntz yesterday. I told him he needs to sound the alarm throughout New York. Every doctor in the city and every gay man with KS would soon hear about it.’
‘How did he respond?’
‘By telling me he’d already told the gay doctors he knew, except me, and he was preparing a physician warning which would go out shortly.’
‘You believe him.’
‘God knows but I certainly don’t trust him. Neither should you.’
Cooper was just about to ask Summers what he thought the CDC should be doing in response when a thin, good-looking guy approached them and kissed Summers on the cheek.
‘Here you are, Doc. Finally. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’