Seven Patients

by Atul Kumar

  Peters chugged down half her coffee and winked at Higgs, “Oh, I’m in, just like in the good ol’ days, when you had a six-pack and not a keg?”

  “Touché. Let’s bring med student along, and show him what medicine is really like.” Turning to me he said, “Follow us kid, and keep your mouth shut.”

  ~~~~

  “Hey Doc, I ain’t been to med school or anything, but last I checked you got to complete puberty to have a kid, right?”

  “Well, you have to be at least part way through …” Peters did a double take before continuing, “Wait, are you seriously telling me those two are the culprits?”

  I was rushing to keep up as we fast approached a couple of kids handcuffed in the corner of the ER. One would think they’d be scared and crying. Instead, she was kicking her ‘Hello Kitty’ backpack while yelling at the peach-fuzzed boy sitting on the steel bench. Whether he was sitting due to fatigue or because his pants were so baggy and that they couldn’t resist gravity was anybody’s guess.

  The other officer stood erect as Higgs and Peters entered the small holding room and shut the door. I disappeared into the corner, remembering my only job was to keep quiet.

  “What is the patient’s name?” Questioned Dr. Peters, clearly directed to the pair of teens.

  Nobody responded, or even acknowledged our presence in the small room for that matter. The girl kept questioning her boyfriend about how many blowjobs he’d received in the past month. He buried himself so far into his Raiders hoodie that I could barely see the bill of his oddly angled baseball cap.

  WHAM! The sound of a thunderclap immediately got everybody’s attention.

  After a good long stare, Higgs broke the silence, “Listen you little rascals, the next item I punch is going to be one of you twerps if you don’t show the good Doctor here some respect.”

  I don’t know what kind of force it takes to dent a detaining room wall, but Higgs had it, and seemed to have used this technique before judging by the similar dents scattered about the back wall.

  “The doctor politely asked you two the name of her critically ill patient. Either of you two able to provide this information?”

  “It doesn’t have a name yet,” whispered the girl.

  “Doesn’t have a name? How old is she?”

  “Six weeks.”

  “And … why doesn’t she have a name yet? Didn’t you get a birth certificate?”

  “Well, not exactly. I sorta left the hospital before the doctor discharged us. So I never got a certificate.”

  Peters and Higgs both rolled their eyes and the big man boomed, “Correct me if I’m wrong, Doc, but leaving the hospital with a baby against medical advice is kidnapping, isn’t it?”

  “Yup, you’re right. Unless of course the mother gives a false name and bogus address, in which case it’s just another Jane Doe and nothing can be proven.” A self satisfied smirk appeared on the girl’s face.

  It was quickly erased as Dr. Peters continued, “Although it’d be easy enough to figure out given the age of the mother, time and date of delivery, age of the child, and blood type. They’d all match up with the Jane Doe and she’d no longer be an unknown individual, but guilty of kidnapping, child abuse, and whatever else you can throw at her.”

  Beads of sweat started appearing on our Jane Doe. John Doe was still buried in his clothing, like a ground hog that hadn’t yet come up for spring.

  Higgs again took the lead, “Are you the mother, Miss?”

  Looking down at her backpack and fluttering her eyes, she whispered, “Yes.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “She doesn’t have a name.”

  “Not her name, we can fill out the death certificate later. Your …”

  “She’s DEAD?” Jane jumped up; the concerned look on her face was something even a seasoned actress couldn’t fake. I think we just confirmed she was our patient’s mother.

  “She will be if you don’t start answering my questions faster. I’m sure the doctor here needs to be saving her life and not wasting her time on you two. But she can’t be in two places at once, so I suggest you be more cooperative.”

  “Juanita.”

  “And what’s your name, Dad?” asked Higgs as he reached over and threw off the kid’s hoodie, revealing a baseball cap so low it covered his eyebrows and was rotated to provide shade to his left ear.

  He leapt off the bench and stood up glaring at Higgs’ collarbone before tilting his head up and making eye contact. The detective had at least three hands and eight stones on the wannabe gangbanger trying to unsuccessfully stare him down. The staring match lasted 30 seconds, thankfully Dr. Peters intervened, or else I don’t know if I could have held in my laughter at the situation.

  “So, what’s your name? Are you the father?” asked Peters.

  “I want my lawyer!”

  Higgs shoved him down so he was again sitting on the bench. Good move, or else his jeans might have settled around his ankles instead of precariously dangling mid thigh around his two pairs of boxers.

  “You’re not under arrest, Einstein; you’re only being detained seeing as how you were found at the scene of an unconscious six-week old baby who was kidnapped from a hospital.

  “Not to mention that lawyering up is as good as pleading guilty. By the looks of it I don’t think you’re going to be springing for one of those big firm partners with your lunch money. Hell, if it’s even your lunch money and not stolen.”

  He spit on the wall. “Fuck you, pig! I earn! I’m gonna get your badge and you’re gonna be out looking for work as a rent-a-cop. This is harassment and police brutality.” Higgs stepped back from the alleged father and not so subtly placed his hand on his now unfastened, but still holstered, revolver. John Doe took notice, “You ever even fire your piece?”

  I almost missed it, but in a flash of movement, Higgs had his gun drawn and the barrel shoved against the side of John’s head, pushing him into the wall at an odd angle.

  Peters nonchalantly entered the discussion seeing the distress beginning to form on John Doe’s expression. “Don’t worry, Detective, I saw the whole thing just now. He was aggravated and attempted to attack you. Go ahead and pull the trigger; I’ll be your witness to self-defense. Kindly do me a favor and make sure it’s lethal. The surgeons have their hands full with the baby at present, and we don’t have another OR available.”

  “Wha … wha … you can’t do that! You’re a doctor,” blathered our John Doe, no longer looking so tough with snot dripping from his nose.

  Higgs shoved the gun a bit further and continued, “I believe the good Doctor asked you what your name was. Are you going to answer her questions or am I going to have to act in self defense as she suggested?”

  He nodded. All questions were rapidly answered without any bravado or backtalk. A healthy number of tissues were consumed from the nearby box before Higgs and Peters left the room.

  ~~~~

  “John and Juanita huh? Do you believe their story?”

  Higgs and Peters were discussing the case just outside the interrogation room. John (turns out that was his real name) was more than happy to answer any and all questions once he realized that Higgs had indeed fired his piece before and Dr. Peters wasn’t going to offer any more sympathy than the detective. In fact they both played the “bad” role pretty well.

  The couple was still in the interrogation room while deciding what should be done next. Juanita cradled the head of her now sobbing man as he blew his nose and recanted the events of how he was almost killed, even though she was only two feet away when it all transpired.

  As the minutes dragged by, Juanita seemed to be growing more distant from John, lacking the affection one would expect from an innocent couple. She stopped cradling his head; instead her arm was limp as he leaned on her shoulder. She was staring off in the distant, clearly thinking about something else.

  “She’s hiding something, Doc; I can see it in her eyes,” Higgs said with complete confidence
.

  “I agree. He seems legit though, those sobs are the real deal. Whether they are from fear or pain from that lump you gave him on his right temple is anybody’s guess. At least he didn’t need any stitches! I really believe he did just walk in and find the kid unresponsive without having anything to do with the shaking or other abuse. Poor chap even thinks it’s his kid.”

  I just watched in stunned silence. I couldn’t believe that this was how medicine was practiced. Neither Peters nor Higgs were taking particular joy in what they had just done. Quite the contrary, they seemed very professional and detached from the situation, knowing this was an imperfect way to deal with a broken system. Medical passersby seemed to understand that something serious was going on and avoided the corridor which we occupied. The few staff that did enter for supplies in the adjacent storeroom did so rapidly, without lingering a second longer than needed. It was the proverbial hiding place in plain sight. If people knew that a minor had just been threatened at gunpoint inside a hospital with the attending physician watching, even condoning it … the media would have a field day.

  But judging that Peters and Higgs were planning how best to continue their questioning and how they hadn’t even flinched with the initial interrogation, this couldn’t be an isolated occurrence in just this hospital. Babies were shaken by dysfunctional couples daily across the country. I wondered if this was how it was handled elsewhere. Unfortunately I couldn’t bring it up with any of my friends. If word got out this occurred and that I was present and didn’t try to stop it, I’d be just as liable. The inherent problem was unfortunately that if I had tried to stop it, I’d likely have been given poor marks on my rotation, completely unacceptable to any medical student.

  Fantastic, accessory to police brutality and abuse of power charges, at the very minimum. Just what the Dean hoped we’d learn as part of our training.

  I turned just as the door to the detaining room closed behind Peters with Higgs. John and Juanita both went rigid on the bench, trying their best to appear calm and collected. They failed.

  I scooted up to the window to get a better look. Unfortunately, the reinforced double paned glass and concrete walls didn’t allow me much in the way of audio. They were still doing the good guy, bad guy routine. Higgs slammed his palm onto the table like he meant it. No wonder there were so many dings and scrapes on everything in the room.

  Words were exchanged and suddenly John jumped up and faced both Higgs and Peters. His expression completely changed as though faced with an impossible decision or undeniable truth. He went from teary eyed to enraged. His chest pushed forward, his eyes suddenly focused and intent upon revenge. He pulled back his arm looked like he was going to lash out against Higgs when he suddenly turned and bitch slapped Juanita.

  Instead of intervening, Peters and Higgs just watched the events unfold. I was transfixed. I thought that I should perhaps intervene, but without hearing what happened, I didn’t know which side to take.

  John was now yelling so loud that spittle was flying out of his mouth like a snowstorm. His face was beet red and his eyes looked like they were going to bulge out of his head. His anger was focused solely on Juanita. Instead of cowering away, she accepted the onslaught with a downtrodden expression of guilt and remorse. Sitting while John stood, it was clear that he was the one in power and she the sinner.

  John punched the wall and kicked the nearby chair. Turning towards the upturned chair his intentions were clear. He wanted revenge. Walking towards the chair, he hefted it and was about to hurl it at Juanita when Higgs intervened and slammed him against the wall, causing John to lose his grip and drop the chair. Higgs muscled John into taking a seat on the far end of the bench while Peters escorted Juanita out and into the adjacent holding cell, motioning to me that it was OK to follow her in.

  After Higgs cuffed John, he joined Peters next door. “Juanita, you have one chance to confess, or you too are going to be cuffed and escorted to the police station.” It was obvious Higgs wasn’t joking given the no-nonsense tone of his voice and the too close for comfort location of his stance, well into her personal space.

  Juanita broke down and started sobbing. She fell to her knees and was no longer the tough defiant rebel she was trying to portray earlier. Her true form revealed a vulnerable teenager lost in a world of mistakes and bad decisions.

  She lay in fetal position by Higgs’ boots, sobbing like the apocalypse was upon us … or at least upon her. Peters finally caved and bent down next to her, handing her some tissues and rubbing her back. She resembled a small child yearning for her mother. Peters’ compassion and motherly instincts took over as she calmed Juanita down, proving that the ‘bad doc’ role was in fact just an act. Higgs and I stood mesmerized, just watching in a state of catatonia as the two women bonded over sobs and tears.

  After several minutes and many tissues, Juanita’s sobbing slowly subsided and she turned her petite form towards Higgs and almost inaudibly whispered, “John is innocent, I used to love him, but he …”

  Higgs, not used to the warm and fuzzy role the situation required, deferred the questioning to Peters who gently coaxed Juanita to continue her story. “Go ahead, dear. We’re on your side.”

  “He … he … just became so possessive of me. He thought the baby was his when I was pregnant. I tried to tell him it wasn’t, but he didn’t want to believe it. Once I actually gave birth, that’s when the violence started.” She lifted up her shirt to reveal several bruises. I could make out the impression of a ring and knuckles in the most recent bruise.

  She took a few deep breaths and continued. “It became too much for me. I couldn’t raise a baby with the person John had become. The violence was a side of John I didn’t know about until after the baby was born. I knew I wanted him out of my life. When I told him I wanted him gone he went totally nuts. He’d never leave the baby alone. He was always at her side 24/7. He even carried her with him when he went to the bathroom. That’s sorta why I never gave her a name, you know? To keep him detached until Daikens came back.”

  “You’re doing just great, dear. Can you tell us who Daikens is?” Juanita was still lying on the floor, her head in Peters’ lap, while the Doc was gently stroking her hair.

  She again started sobbing anew. But after a bit she calmed down and continued her confessional, “Daikens is her real father. Him and I were together for a year before I got pregnant. He used to run with a bad crowd and once he realized he was going to be a father he wanted to do something good. See, Daikens was a dealer. But the day he knew he was becoming a father he went straight to the police and came clean. He even bargained with the cops to help them catch a bunch of dealers and higher-ups in the East LA drug scene.

  “He didn’t tell me any of this. I found out after he went to the slammer. He worked with the cops on some sting or something, I’m not sure what it’s called, and they busted like 18 people that week because of Daikens’ help … he really put himself at risk. Hell, he even got shot in the arm when it all went down. Part of the deal was that he’d only have to do one year of hard time and then some parole because of his help. That was six months ago.

  “I was pissed at him for ditching me and wasn’t sure what to do while he was in jail. That’s when I met John. He was so sweet to me and helped me with the pregnancy and everything. I was thinking that things could really work out with John … well, until, you know, the violence started.”

  Peters continued stroking her hair as she recounted what she’d been through, asking, “Did you tell John he wasn’t the father?”

  “Oh sure, I mean I was already two months pregnant even before I even met him. But he didn’t want to believe it wasn’t his child. He kept saying that because he loved me so much the child developed faster than normal so we could bring it into the world early.”

  “What about Daikens?”

  “When John started hitting me, I knew he was wrong for me. Daikens would always write me, so eventually I started writing back and then starti
ng visiting him in jail. He was understanding of what I was going through. He blamed himself for all of it. He wanted to get back with me after he got out and he said we’d start a good life together. Plus he told me he had a lot of money put away that nobody knew about that we could use to get ourselves started.”

  I noticed Higgs taking notes while she spoke. Her confession was clearly on record.

  Juanita continued, “Last week I told Daikens about the times John hit me. Daikens didn’t take it well and got really mad. He even said he’d hurt John real bad. I was afraid he’d even kill John once he got out.” She started sobbing again, “And then I’d be all alone forever.”

  A look of understanding passed between Peters and Higgs, they’d already put the whole story together. I was still confused by a couple things: how and why a seventeen year old thought it was a good idea to have a child, and why she’d think it was a good idea to raise it with a former drug dealer after she confessed to him that she was cheating on him while he was in jail. It didn’t exactly strike me as a recipe for success.

  Higgs piped in, “How did the baby get hurt if John was always at her side?”

  Deep breaths and more sobs, but fortunately no tears to wait through this time as she continued, “I got in touch with one of Daikens’ friends who owed Daikens a huge favor. I guess he saved his life or something back in his dealing days. We came up with a plan that we’d shake the baby, but just a little bit, and then when John saw that she was sick he’d call for help and they’d arrest him for abuse.

  “So I faked a fall and pretended to sprain my ankle. He went to the store to get me a brace and ice packs. While he was gone “J” came over and shook the baby. But he’s really big and I guess he shook her too hard, I told him to stop, but he said we had to make it look real. I started to get worried and just went into the shower.

  “I guess he left after he shook her. A few minutes later John came home and freaked out! He yelled that the baby was blue and wasn’t breathing. He ran into the shower and automatically blamed me. Then he punched me here.” She pointed to the newest bruise she’d shown us earlier.