When the Cameras Stop Rolling.... Connie Cox

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СКАЧАТЬ of personal space between the host and the guest. Instead, it was laid out to give the appearance of intimacy, hopefully translating into trust and confidence for the viewer.

      “Welcome to Ask the Doc, Dr. O’Donnell. Tell me, how many cases of heart attack in women do you see compared to men?”

      She left her question broad, knowing she could work with any answer he gave her. That’s what her producers attributed to the show’s success, her ability to think fast.

      She wished they’d take into consideration the three and a half years she’d spent at the busiest drug-abuse treatment clinic in New Orleans, working with walk-in patients. Talk about having to think fast on your feet …

      So far, the producers had sidestepped her suggestion for a hard-hitting drug-abuse segment, but Eva planned to insist, when her contract renegotiations came due, that a series on drug abuse be included that ranged from family recognition and prevention to consequences, treatment options and success rates for battling addiction.

      Too many people needed this information just like too many people shied away from it.

      Though, right now, she had a more immediate problem as Dr. O’Donnell shied away from the camera.

      After the night he’d had, Mark fought off his exhausted stupor. Searching for a boost of energy, he looked at the woman across from him, all hair and boobs and luscious lips ripe for—

      “Do you see many women coming into the E.R. knowing they’re having a heart attack?”

      This was her second question and he hadn’t even answered the first one yet.

      Come on, O’Donnell. Get your head in the game.

      “We don’t see as many women come in with suspected heart attacks as men, but that’s not to say women don’t have as many heart attacks. All these years while we’ve been thinking men are the majority of heart-attack victims, we haven’t been diagnosing women properly.”

      His host nodded encouragingly, as if she were coaxing answers from a child. “In fact, heart disease is the number-one killer in women, isn’t it, Dr. O’Donnell?”

      “Yes, it is.” Mark thought of the woman he’d admitted last night. He’d insisted the lab run an EKG even though she’d thought she had flu.

      “Tell us some of the symptoms as we post them on our viewers’ screens.” Dr. Veracruz pointed, not so subtly, to the monitor.

      Even in his mind, Mark stumbled over calling her a doctor. She was no more a medical doctor than he was a ballerina.

      What was her name? Edna? Ella? Eva.

      She looked like an Eva, every overstated voluptuous inch of her.

      Maybe, just maybe, she had her doctorate in journalism or television. Could a person get a degree in talk-show hosting?

      But this woman with her long, dangling earrings and cleavage deeper than the Grand Canyon would probably faint at the sight of blood.

      Mark read the first bullet point. Shortness of breath.

      He looked into the lens like the public relations specialists in his university’s athletic department had trained him to do during his football years and flashed the camera’s blinking red light a smile.

      “Here are the top signs of having a heart attack.”

      Mark ignored Eva’s raised eyebrows.

      “If you feel like you’ve run a marathon and haven’t taken a single step, or if you can’t draw in a deep breath, go to the emergency room. You might be having a heart attack.”

      His quirky tone drew a small laugh from the audience. Laughter meant they were listening and listening meant they were learning.

      And education was the only reason he’d agreed to be on this show to start with. His own beloved grandmother had died of a heart attack. If only she’d known, if only those around her had known, maybe she would still be here for him and for his sister.

      She had been their only reality in the world of fakeness for appearances’ sake where his socialite parents had insisted they all live.

      The audience waited for the next sign on the list. Mark reached for the sense of humor most people thought was too quirky.

      “If you feel weak in the knees and your world is spinning around you and you’re not about to walk down the aisle and say ‘I do’, go to the emergency room. You might be having a heart attack.”

      From the corner of his eye, he saw Dr. Veracruz sit back in her chair, obviously giving him the spotlight.

      Mark had to do some quick thinking to phrase the other symptoms the same way.

      “If you feel nauseous and it’s not from overindulgence in the French Quarter, go to the emergency room. You might be having a heart attack.

      “If you feel upper abdominal indigestion, don’t even try to blame it on that spicy Creole dish your sister-in-law made, go to the emergency room. You might be having a heart attack.”

      He paused, going blank as the remaining symptoms blinked on the monitors.

      Dr. Veracruz gave him a quick glance then sat forward, giving a subtle off-camera sign to the camera operator, who pulled back to get both of them in the shot.

      Smiling, she said, “If your back muscles are in spasm, as if you’ve spent all night dancing the tango and you haven’t even lifted a teacup, go to the emergency room. You might be having a heart attack.”

      She gave him a conspiratorial look, as if they’d planned this out ahead of time as she finished off the list.

      “And the classic symptom. If you feel like an elephant is sitting on your chest, go to the emergency room. You might be having a heart attack.”

      Mark nodded toward her, silently telling her he’d take it from there. “At the first signs of a heart attack, chew an aspirin. Crush it with your teeth as you may not be able to swallow it.”

      Dr. Veracruz dovetailed with her own comment. “And after you take that aspirin, go to the hospital. Because …”

      She pointed to the audience, who all called out in sync, “You might be having a heart attack.”

      Mark steepled his hands and gave the camera a dead-serious stare, wanting to make his point as strongly as he could. “The second biggest problem with women having heart attacks is that they don’t want to bother anyone just because they’re not feeling well. Take a lesson from the boys, ladies. You’re important enough to bother people. Even if it’s a false alarm, you’re worth the bother. Your family would rather have you alive and embarrassed about a bit of gas than dead because you tried to not be a bother. So, at the first signs of a heart attack, go immediately to the emergency room.”

      Eva gave the camera an equally serious stare. “And remember. Don’t drive yourself. If you do, you’ll put everyone on the road in danger. Call for emergency transport. Right, Dr. O’Donnell?”

      “Right,” he said on cue. No one СКАЧАТЬ