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Fred stood in front of the crowded banquet hall, waiting to begin his speech. The emcee was saying something to the gathered mass of industry professionals, but Fred couldn't pay attention to that right now. Fred was fighting the butterflies that threatened his composure before this important moment. Images of his note cards raced through his mind, each of their important points popping off the imaginary page for a moment before disappearing.
The emcee finished his remarks and announced the next speaker, "And without further ado, I have the distinct pleasure of introducing our keynote speaker, Dr. Fred Matthews!" The emcee stepped back from the microphone and joined in the polite applause that accompanied Fred's walk to the podium.
"Thank you. You're very kind. As you know, I am Fred Matthews and I'm here to talk to you about methods of reducing transplant rejection in children and young adults," Fred began. He found that once his speech had started, the audience paid more attention to the content of his presentation than his particular style or public speaking ability. With his lowered stress level, the note cards in his mind passed slowly reminding him of each point he needed to make.
Fifteen minutes later, Fred was wrapping up his remarks and eagerly anticipating stepping off of the stage. His final note card was hanging in his mind and he read from the last line, "And that summarizes the emerging methods in transplant acceptance. Again, I am Fred Matthews, and it has been a pleasure to speak to you today. Thank you." Fred felt the emcee approaching the microphone and he turned to walk off stage. The emcee stopped Fred and requested another round of applause for the Doctor. Fred gave one last polite wave to the crowd and continued his journey off stage.
Fred left the banquet hall through a side door and walked toward the bar. As a speaker at the conference he had already seen all of the presentations once didn't feel the need to sit through them once more. And while Fred didn't smoke, he understood the urge that people felt to smoke during times of stress. For him, a cold beer and a comfortable chair was the perfect way to wind down.
The bar area only had a few people in it, but none of them were the other speakers. And since Fred had just finished speaking before coming out here, it seemed unlikely that any of them had seen his presentation or even knew who he was. And to Fred, that was perfect. He ordered a beer at the bar and took a seat at an empty table.
A door to the banquet hall opened and young woman stepped out of the room slowly. Fred thought the next speaker must have started and that she didn't want to draw attention to herself. When she turned around and started toward the bar, Fred recognized her immediately. Her name was Rachel Spier and she had spoken earlier in the day about robot assisted tumor excision. She spotted Fred looking in her direction and smiled at him as neared his table.
"Dr. Matthews, right?" she asked.
Fred was mildly surprised to be approached by her and found that his beer was not curing his nervousness very well anymore. He stood and managed to say, "Ah... yes. That's correct. But please, call me Fred." Though he thought he knew the answer already, he offered her his hand and asked, "And you are?"
Rachel shook the offered hand and replied confidently, "Dr. Rachel Spier. But please, just call me Rachel." She pulled the chair away from the table slightly and asked, "May I?"
"Of course, it would be my pleasure. Can I get you anything to drink?" He said, and both of them sat down. Fred surprised to notice his anxiety was fading already. Rachel had a way about her that soothed him from the moment she shook his hand. He found this to be a curious, if not frightening, power she had over him.
Interrupting Fred's thoughts, Rachel answer, "Sure! Just a Coke, please."
"Coming right up," Fred replied as he started to get out of his chair to go to the bar.
"Oh, well don't go and order me one! I just got here and now you're going to leave me sitting here all alone?" Rachel teased. "I can wait until the waiter comes around."
Fred sat back down with a smile, "If you insist."
"Oh, I do. Now it seems that all I know about you is your name and that you are quite knowledgeable about organ transplants. So tell me, do you come here often?" she joked.
Surprised by her joke, Fred responded through his laughter, "No. No, I don't get here often I'm afraid. First time in fact. You?"
"Yes, this is my first time as well. But if I knew that they had Doctors as cute as you here I would have made it a point to come sooner," Rachel said as she continued to tease him. She was proud to have made him laugh so quickly. It wasn't always easy getting to know people, and laughter seemed to reveal something intimate about a person. Her grandmother always thought most everything you needed to know about someone could be found in the things they laughed at and how they did it. Rachel had always thought that was pretty true as well. And Fred, he had a good, pure laughter. The kind that didn't come out at someone's expense but only in moments of shared joy. A laughter that invited you to join in the fun.
Fred was smiling as he said, "Thank you, Rachel. You're too kind. But please, tell me a little about yourself. Where did you go to school?"
"Northwestern. You?"
"Wisconsin. Where are you practicing?"
"Chicago."
"Milwaukee."
"Wow, we're practically neighbors," Rachel said, interrupting him.
Returning her smile, "Yes, I suppose we are. Cubs or Sox?"
"Sox."
"Hometown?" he asked.
"Aurora."
"Madison."
"My turn. How did you end up on the speakers list?" Rachel asked, tired of trivial questions.
"Good question, but perhaps you don't think I deserved to speak?" he said, teasing her for the first time.
"Well, that's not exactly what I said. I've reserved judgement for now; I think you have potential."
"Potential, huh? High praise if I've ever heard it," he said flatly. He made sure she saw the half smile that let her know he was only joking.
"You should hear what I have to say about people I don't like. I would say I'm being downright civil, flattering almost."
"Civil! Why I think you are right, I don't think I would enjoy being on your bad side if you consider this flattery. Although I do wonder if any side of you could fairly be called bad. A daisy may close with the setting of the sun, but I would never call it ugly for having done so," Fred said.
"Is that so?" she asked laughing softly at the awkward line.
"It is," Fred replied as he started to turn red. He laughed quietly to himself and noticed that she had a warm smile to match her eyes that assured him that the line wouldn't cost him anything further than the polite laugh.
"Well, now who's guilty of flattery?" Rachel replied playfully, trying to get back on offense.
"Guilty as charged. I'll admit that, but don't blame me. I saw how well you wore flattery and..."
"Yeah, yeah, I see where you're going with this and you never answered my question," she said, cutting him off. She brightened a bit as he became more comfortable and was able to deliver a better compliment, not that his compliments were what she was judging.
"It's just that the story is boring and it probably wouldn't impress you anyway," he said, practically begging her to push for it harder. He wasn't going to give up on the flirting just yet.
She took the bait. "Perhaps it won't. But I would like to decide that for myself."
"Fine. During school I worked with some leading researchers in gene therapy. We studied the subtleties of blood type and visceral phenotype, and we found some patterns in organ rejection where conventional wisdom didn't expect any problems. This led to clinical studies involving a handful of specialized immunosuppressants. We found strong correlations between each of the drugs and phenotypes, which led to drastic reductions in recovery time and complications.
"Following graduation, I initiated a transplant study that better paired donors with recipients. My method balanced recipient need with genetic compatibility with a donors genetics. This led to patients with a great match receiving an organ despite being lower on the list. There was a problem initially with patients who had to wait despite being near the top of the list, but the study showed that over time there was an overall reduction in average time on the transplant list. The reduced time was attributed to fewer patients needing a second organ because of rejections.
"The study just finished its third year and I'm attempting to expand the method across the country. I approached the organizers of this event with my results and they offered me a time slot. I'm hoping that it will gain some traction and gain acceptance with the FDA."
Rachel had been at his presentation, but that was mostly the data and drug interactions. She found herself more impressed having heard the story first hand. Now she was hoping that he didn't ask how she got her time slot, because she hadn't had very much to do with the research that had won over the selection committee. "Well I am impressed, and I'm sorry that I doubted you. And if I can be any help in getting your plan approval, just let me know."
"Thanks. I don't feel I deserve all of the credit. I'm generally reluctant to take any, but my mentors were more interested in drug development than the clinical applications."
"I guess I should ask another question," Rachel said.
"I guess so," Fred agreed. Sure his questions had been quick and to the point and hers was a little more involved and one sided, but Rachel seemed too nice for him to argue the point with her.
"So does a handsome, successful doctor like you have girlfriend waiting for him back home?"
"A girlfriend? No, I don't have one of those," Fred answered. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, I wouldn't want her to be jealous if I asked you out to dinner tonight."
"Yes, that wouldn't be good. But dinner, dinner sounds perfect," Fred replied.
"It's a date then," Rachel said resolutely. "I think the seminar is about to end for the day and the bar could be pretty crowded in a minute or two. How about we meet back here in two hours?"
"I can't wait."
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