by A. Turk
Grayson Stevenson broke in, “Those are slanderous allegations, Doctor. You could get sued for such statements.”
Stevenson’s threat didn’t unnerve her. She was on a roll and was committed to telling the whole story to Dr. Kelly and Stevenson, whether they wanted to hear it or not. She knew Herman and Douglas hadn’t revealed the facts and wouldn’t do so.
“Bottom line, unnecessary tests, procedures, and surgeries are performed at this hospital for profit. The hospital administration knows about the dramatic increase in tests and procedures and remains silent because the hospital is making big money.”
She took a breath; it felt good to get some air deep into her lungs and to get her accusations off her chest. She added, “What makes matters worse is the total incompetence of both Dr. Herman and Dr. English.”
Herman almost came out of his chair; he looked as if he was ready to strangle her.
Next, Laura described the death of Rosie Malone in detail and how the older woman’s medical condition deteriorated right before her eyes. Everyone in the room knew the story, except Stevenson. She described how Dr. Herman blindsided her and in a very accusatory way ordered her to “mind her own business.”
She couldn’t contain herself any longer and jumped to her feet to make her most serious accusation. She had sweated through her scrubs and white coat and knew that in the confines of the small office she gave off an unpleasant odor, differently from Stevenson, whose cologne gave off a sickly sweet odor.
She pointed at Herman. “He let her die. He wouldn’t transfer Rosie Malone because he didn’t want the physicians at Saint Thomas to see what English and he had done to that poor woman. He didn’t want to be second-guessed because she didn’t need the surgery in the first place, Dr. English nicked her bowel, and the postoperative care was horrendous.”
Herman jumped to his feet and shouted at her, “Who do you think you’re talking to, bitch?”
Laura and Herman were standing about three inches apart then. She could smell his hot breath. He desperately needed a breath mint. “It was your reckless failure to transfer Mrs. Malone that killed her.”
She turned to Douglas. “I begged you to transfer her, but you ignored me. And three days later she was dead. She never would have been transferred if her daughter hadn’t pressed for it. He wanted Rosie Malone to die so his malpractice would die with her.”
Kelly had enough. He took charge of the meeting and stated sternly, “Your hospital privileges are suspended pending further investigation, Dr. Patel. You’re not to communicate with Mr. Douglas, Dr. Herman, or Dr. English. If one of your patients requires hospitalization, refer him or her to another physician, one with privileges. Your suspension is immediate and without pay—”
Now she interrupted Dr. Kelly: “I have a contract. The hospital is obligated to pay my rent and $5,000 a month in salary through July. That was our deal.”
Kelly responded, “Well, you broke our deal. You interfered in another physician’s treatment of his patient. I’ll be calling your landlord this afternoon to inform him that you’ll be making next month’s payment.”
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” she replied.
Dr. Kelly stood up, followed by Douglas and Stevenson.
Stevenson fielded the hollow threat, saying, “Here’s my card. You can have him or her call me.”
With nothing left to say, Laura walked out of the room. Her head was pounding as she headed toward the doctors’ lounge.
After a few minutes, a security guard approached her and said, “Excuse me, Doctor, but Mr. Douglas says you have to leave the hospital right now. I was told to escort you off the property. I’m sorry.”
The security guard followed Laura to her car. It was so humiliating that she completely forgot about her personal effects in her locker.
While she drove home, she tried to think of what to tell Maggie. Laura was the breadwinner, and the family depended on her. Maggie, five-year-old Kim, and almost one-year-old Lee would be waiting for her at the breakfast table. But she found the kitchen empty.
She’d forgotten that the meeting made her more than an hour late. Maggie and the kids had eaten pancakes without her. As she walked toward the den, she could hear Sesame Street on television.
Maggie came up from behind Laura and put her arms around her. Laura began to shake all over and made a strange humming sound. Maggie looked surprised when Laura broke down, sobbing. It took fifteen minutes for her to tell Maggie what happened. Maggie just listened, interrupting only to ask, “Did you get a copy of the audiotape?”
Laura was angry at herself for her stupidity at leaving without a copy. Maggie kissed her hard and assured her that they were going to be all right. Then Maggie stated the obvious, “You’re going to need a damn good lawyer.”
Maggie’s words were prophetic. Two days later, Plainview Community Hospital sued Dr. Laura Patel in Plains County Circuit Court for breach of contract. A sheriff’s deputy served Laura at her office in front of a waiting room full of patients.
Things went from bad to worse. The following Monday night, as she was leaving her office, Laura found a pink flyer with bold red lettering on her windshield. She removed it and started to wad it up but stopped and uncrumpled the document.
The flyer was about her. It accused her of being homosexual and wrongfully accused her of having illicit affairs with two married female patients, causing their marriages to end in divorce. The flyer correctly stated that Dr. Patel was currently having a lesbian relationship and had adopted two Chinese daughters. The flyer concluded by questioning, “Do you want your wives and daughters treated by this person?”
Only two other cars were in the parking lot, and each windshield had a pink flyer. Laura gripped the steering wheel tightly. She was pissed and wanted to lash out in revenge but didn’t know where to start. It could have been any one of those bastards, but which one?
She started driving home but remembered that Maggie wanted her to pick up milk for the girls. She pulled into a busy convenience mart. Almost every car had a flyer on its windshield. She must have just missed the bastards spreading the lies.
While she waited to pay for the milk, Laura noticed two women whispering in the corner. She knew they were talking about her. The word was out in Plainview: Dr. Laura Patel was a home-wrecking lesbian.
Obviously, the distributor of the flyer wanted to destroy her office practice. Plainview was a pretty conservative town, and very few patients would be willing to be treated by a lesbian doctor.
She made an appointment with Bradley Littleton Esquire, a business acquaintance of Maggie’s father, in Nashville. She didn’t trust the local lawyers. She was certain that they could be influenced, if not controlled, by the hospital. Laura knew she was in for the fight of her life. Am I ready for this?
CHAPTER SIX
A NEW CONSPIRACY
FRIDAY, MAY 15, 1992
Friday was usually Dr. Herman’s slowest day at the office but not today. He had made a small fortune by seeing more than forty patients. It was almost 7:00 p.m. but still light out when he left his office. He had to make rounds with sixteen of his patients admitted to the hospital. Although it was his duty, he made each patient feel special.
He drove his black Mercedes to the hospital and parked in his reserved space. He removed his Ray Ban sunglasses and flipped the visor down. Taped to the bottom of the visor was a photo of his mother, Margot. He touched his fingers to his lips and then placed them on the photo. This was part of his daily ritual before making his hospital rounds. Dr. Margot Herman was his inspiration, and he knew his mother would be proud that her only son chose to follow in her footsteps.
As he entered the hospital, he decided he needed a cup of black coffee to help him through his rounds. Coffee was his drink of choice, he never drank alcohol, and he was critical of those who overindulged. It was suppertime, and the cafeteria was two-thirds full. Most patrons were concerned family members biding their time, as their loved ones lay ups
tairs. He walked over to several tables and casually chatted with his patients’ spouses and siblings.
Dan Cooke stopped eating his potpie and rose to shake Dr. Herman’s hand. “Bobby seems to be doing much better. Thanks, Doc.”
His son had fallen off a merry-go-round and fractured his collarbone. All Herman did was consult an orthopedic surgeon, but he was the contact to the family and was happy to take the credit.
Another woman bear-hugged him, almost spilling his coffee. This scene was not unusual. What Herman lacked in skill, he more than made up for in bedside manner. His patients and their families loved and respected him as their family doctor.
On his way to the elevator, he walked past the open door of the doctors’ lounge. Herman spied Charlie English sitting alone with his head in his hands and mumbling to himself. Herman couldn’t quite make it out, but at the end of the diatribe, he understood, “When hell freezes over.”
Seeing Herman walk in, English jumped to his feet. A wild, glazed expression was on his face. After a moment, his confusion changed to a stupid grin, and he sat back down. “Hey there, Lars.”
Herman looked him up and down, noting his unshaved face and wrinkled clothes. “Are you all right?”
English laughed oddly. “You caught me by surprise. That’s all.”
Herman had given English a prescription for Klonopin to help him cope with the stress of his divorce and legal problems, but the man’s red blotchy skin suggested he might be overusing or self-prescribing.
English was in his late forties. Slightly older than Herman, he once sported a full head of ginger hair, but now the top of his head was bald. In the last few years, he had developed a paunch around his midsection. A robust Herman encouraged English to exercise to manage his stress. Herman even invited English on his 5:00 a.m. jogs, but English refused. Herman, as his treating physician, would have preferred exercise to medication, but English was a difficult patient, in part because he was a fellow physician. He treated English as a courtesy. Herman reluctantly prescribed sleeping pills and Valium to help English cope with the pressures of his life.
Herman approached his friend cautiously. “What’s the matter, Charlie?”
English looked up from his hands. His eyes were red from crying. He cleared his throat and said hoarsely, “Women, Lars, fucking women. They’re driving me crazy. I’m paying alimony to one ex-wife, Charlotte, and child support for my two children and alimony to the other one, Susan. The children and Susan live in Hewes City. They’re bleeding me dry. The lawyers’ fees are killing me. I have to pay my lawyer and theirs. These bastards charge $300 an hour. I’m broke. And what’s worse, their hounding me is affecting my marriage to Joan.”
Herman didn’t know much about English’s personal life, but he had heard the rumors. Although Herman regarded English as a friend, their relationship was more or less professional. Herman had heard bits and pieces of the English marital drama through his gossiping receptionist, Sheila. He knew that English’s most recent divorce transpired after his second wife, Susan, found him in bed with the third and current Mrs. English, Joan. Herman wouldn’t be surprised if the first Mrs. English left under similar circumstances or if it was Susan who had been caught in the compromised position.
Herman was in sensitive territory, but that didn’t prevent him from making his sales pitch. Organizing his thoughts, he responded deliberately: “Lawyers and your ex-wives aren’t your problem. You need more money. Alimony, child support, and legal fees are the reality of your life. These are the costs of ten years’ worth of bad decisions. I think I have a solution to your problem. I’ve been doing some research. Gallbladders aren’t the only organ that can be removed laparoscopically. In California and New York, doctors have been removing appendixes laparoscopically for years. It will be just like removing gallbladders. The appendix is a useless organ and won’t be missed. I’ll screen and diagnose the patients, and you’ll perform the surgeries. The real beauty of an appendectomy is that it’s fully covered by insurance.”
His proposal would be a win-win for both parties. The more procedures English offered, the more referrals Herman could make. He made money from every surgery English performed. The plan was perfect.
Herman pressed English further. “We’ll send you down to Atlanta to take another three-day course to get your certification. When you come back, you’ll be the only general surgeon in Plains County who can perform a laparoscopic appendectomy. I’m thinking about buying a second ultrasound machine. Between gall-bladders, appendixes, and the OB-GYN’s practice, I think we can support a second machine. The quicker we get the ultrasounds done, the quicker you can get them into surgery and we get paid. We’ll make money hand over fist, and your financial problems will soon be over.”
“A new machine isn’t cheap. Where are you going to get the hundred grand to pay for it?” asked English.
“I’ve sold some art that was gifted to me by a relative.”
“That must have been some piece of art if you can buy another machine.”
Herman wasn’t about to tell English about Uncle Wilhelm and his Nazi background and stolen art treasures. English was too unstable. “Charlie, don’t worry about how I get the money. All you need to know is that you’ll be doing twice as many surgeries and making twice the money.”
English jumped up and squeezed him so tightly that Herman couldn’t breathe. When he let go, Herman choked out, “I guess that means we have a deal.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE LIBRARY
MONDAY, JUNE 22, 1992
Sammie drove separately from her uncle to the Plains County Library in Davis’s convertible. She listened to a tape of Frank Sinatra and his daughter, Nancy, singing “Something Stupid,” while her long blonde ponytail flapped in the wind. She sang along, “… something stupid like I love you.” Like her mother, she fancied the Rat Pack singers: Sinatra, Martin, and her namesake, Sammy Davis Jr.
She arrived fifteen minutes before Littleton and her uncle and slipped into the back of the library. Her job was to observe the crowd during the presentation and later report the crowd’s reaction. Afterward, she was to help Bella collect the names, addresses, and telephone numbers of prospective clients. She was very excited about getting out of the office. She was sick of making copies and typing letters. This meeting and getting into the trenches with her uncle were not topics covered during her undergraduate study at the University of Florida or in paralegal school.
The local library looked dated, like something out of the 1960s or 1970s. There weren’t any computers in sight. Behind the circulation desk were small wooden file drawers, which housed the Dewey Decimal index cards.
The library reading room was set up with plastic chairs in neat rows, and it was almost filled to capacity. More than eighty people attended the meeting. Sammie took a seat and tried to blend in, which was easier said than done for her. Every male there was staring at the beautiful, well-built stranger.
The attendees began to grow restless as the clock chimed seven o’clock. Sammie looked around the room; there were a few people her age, but most of them were over forty. Overall, the group had a beaten-down look.
Bradley Littleton was seated next to her uncle on a small platform by the podium. Littleton acknowledged her with a wink, which made her skin crawl.
Davis had explained to her that because of Littleton’s connection to Patel and several other persons he met in the community, there was no choice but to keep Littleton involved in the malpractice cases. Littleton represented Dr. Patel, she was the advising expert for about two months, and she knew most of the people in the room and could help secure them as clients.
Littleton had filed an answer to the hospital’s complaint, a counterclaim for breach of contract, and claims of libel, slander, and discrimination against the hospital, Dr. Herman, and Dr. English in the Circuit Court of Plains County. Dr. Patel was his client, and she had access to and could obtain the malpractice cases, whether Davis liked it or not.
Littleton moved to the microphone, took a deep breath, and addressed the crowd. He seemed nervous as he introduced himself and Davis as lawyers from Nashville.
“Mr. Davis and I are here tonight to discuss a very serious problem in your community, which is directly affecting the lives of you and your loved ones.
“For the past two years, there have been two doctors practicing medicine without regard for the welfare of their patients. These incompetent doctors are motivated by greed rather than by the principles of their Hippocratic Oath. They are profiting from their misdiagnoses and unnecessary tests, procedures, and surgeries.
“How many of you have been treated by Dr. Lars Herman? Let me see a show of hands.”
Approximately two-thirds of the people raised their hands.
“How many of you have had surgery performed by Dr. Charles English?”
Almost all of Dr. Herman’s patients raised their hands.
“Approximately two years ago, Dr. Herman and Dr. English came to Plainview. The hospital never verified their credentials. They applied for privileges at the hospital and were given whatever privileges they requested. The hospital was desperate for new doctors, and it cut corners. I’m sure you all remember when your community hospital went bankrupt. Most of the doctors who once treated this community disappeared overnight. For decades, the hospital had been owned and run by the local doctors who genuinely cared about this community. Now a faceless corporate outsider owns it.”
Sammie was not familiar with the story of how Plainview Community Hospital went bankrupt, but she figured everybody else there knew how their community hospital went down the drain.
“When the hospital was sold, the new board cut the nursing staff in half. These discharged registered nurses were replaced with techs, most of whom did not have high school diplomas and were far less experienced. But they were cheap. With the less-qualified staff came less-qualified care. The board was concerned only with cutting costs in order to increase profits.”