It's Nothing Personal

by Gorman MD, Sherry

  “I’ll think about it,” Jenna said, hoping to lay the subject to rest.

  Katharine refused to let Jenna off the hook. “Let me ask you a few things. Have you been sleeping well?”

  “No.”

  “How about your appetite? Have you lost weight?”

  “Just a few pounds.”

  “How about sex? Not to intrude.”

  Katharine hit a nerve. Jenna could handle the effects of stress on herself, but she detested the impact it had on her family.

  “I have absolutely no interest. None. I know it bothers Tom.”

  Jenna took another long drink. Answering Katharine’s questions made it apparent that she needed help.

  “Okay, I get your point. I’ll call the guy tomorrow, right after I try not to kill my two patients.”

  “You’re working tomorrow?” asked Katharine, astonished.

  Sourly, Jenna replied, “Not by choice. Rob Wilson called to tell me how sorry he was and, by the way, there are still cases to do. Too bad my life is going up in flames, but the corporation needs to make money.”

  Jenna noticed her hands were still trembling, and she started to cry into the phone.

  “Katharine, I can’t stop shaking. Ever since this morning, my hands have been unsteady. It’s like I can’t turn it off. Has that ever happened to you?”

  “Yeah,” Katharine replied honestly. “It’s not going away on its own. Your adrenaline is sky high. Go see my shrink. Get some anti-anxiety medication. You’re going to need it.”

  Exhausted, Jenna slurred into the phone, “Katharine, I’m gonna go now.”

  Then she hung up the phone, lay down on the couch, and passed out.

  CHAPTER 56

  The next morning, Jenna managed to crawl out of bed, in spite of her grief and pounding headache. She stumbled into the bathroom, brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and threw on a pair of scrubs. There would be no makeup today, no shower. Her only goal was to finish her two short cases uneventfully and then begin preparing for war.

  She was back home before 10 a.m. and called Walter Morey. His secretary answered. Jenna identified herself and was immediately patched through.

  “Hello, Dr. Reiner. This is Walter Morey, but I insist that you call me Walt.”

  Jenna had not planned what she was going to say to the attorney. In fact, Jenna expected several hours, if not days, of phone tag before they actually spoke. The fact that Walter Morey took her first call threw Jenna off guard.

  “I’ll call you Walt, only if you call me Jenna. Jim Taylor and Nancy Guilding referred me to you. I’m being sued and . . .”

  Jenna choked. Hearing the words come out of her mouth confirmed that her life was in shambles.

  Walter was supportive and soothing. “Yes, Jim called me last night and filled me in. Sounds like the Tribune had a heyday with you. I’m really sorry about that.”

  Jenna tried to pull herself together, but she could not conceal the sound of her whimpers. She decided to ignore it and hoped that Walt would, too.

  “Thanks. So I guess I need personal counsel. Can you help me?”

  “Jim’s an old friend and a wonderful attorney. He and I go way back. When he called me last night, he told me all about your case. He said you’re a fine lady and, coming from Jim, that’s good enough for me. How soon can we meet in person?”

  Once again, Jenna was surprised. She had not anticipated that things would move so expeditiously. It caused her to worry that matters were more serious than she realized.

  “I guess I could meet you anytime this week.”

  “How’s one o’clock today?”

  “Uh, fine,” replied Jenna, still crying. Not trusting her memory, she jotted the time down on an envelope.

  “Just a couple of details before we meet. First of all, are you married?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well then, since my role is largely to protect you and, by extension, your family, from any personal financial insult related to this suit, I would strongly recommend that your husband accompany you today. Although you are my client, attorney-client privilege extends to your spouse, so we are free to discuss matters in his presence.

  “Also, I will require a five thousand dollar retainer. Usually, my retainer fees are higher, but I don’t anticipate that you will require extensive services from my end. Any portion that remains unused when this is all done and settled will be refunded to you.”

  Five thousand dollars was a lot of money and yet another thing to worry about. Jenna was unsure if she and Tom had that kind of cash. Unfortunately, she had no choice but to come up with the money by any means possible.

  “Okay,” she said, “my husband, Tom, and I will see you at one. Is there anything else?”

  “Jenna, I can tell you’re very upset. I know your lawyers have told you whom you can and cannot discuss this case with, which doesn’t leave you many options. Have you considered seeing a psychiatrist?”

  “Not really.”

  Katharine’s lecture from the night before echoed in her head. Walter was the second person in less than twenty-four hours who thought Jenna needed professional help. Maybe he and Katharine were right.

  “I think it would be a good idea. In fact, as your attorney, I strongly advise that you do so as soon as possible. As I’m sure you are well aware, this is an enormous stress. I can tell from our brief conversation how distraught you are. I have some names of people who have helped other physicians in the midst of a lawsuit. Anything you say to a psychiatrist is protected conversation, which is another reason why they are a good resource.”

  “Actually, I have a name from a trusted colleague. I guess you’re right. Maybe I do need some outside help. I’ll make the call, and Tom and I will see you at one o’clock.”

  CHAPTER 57

  At ten minutes to one, Jenna and Tom arrived to meet with Walter Morey. A secretary escorted them into his office, which was impressively large with a beautiful, brick fireplace and rich oak furniture. Walter’s cluttered desk sat in one corner, and an oversized mahogany conference table lined with leather chairs filled the remainder of the room.

  Jenna and Tom entered, and an older man of impressive height and build stood and walked over to greet them. Walt had the swagger and mannerisms of a cowboy. After shaking each of their hands, he asked the Reiners to take a seat at the table.

  Once seated, Walt spoke. “Look, my time is your money, so let’s not waste it. Like I told you on the phone, Jim has brought me up to speed on your case. It sounds like right now, you’ve told Jim and Nancy to revoke your consent for settlement. Is that correct?”

  Jenna nodded and said assertively, “Yes, that’s right.”

  Walt stared at Jenna with a perplexed expression. It made her uncomfortable.

  “What I’d like to know is why you don’t want to settle? What are your reasons?”

  Tom and Walt both focused on Jenna. She felt like she had a spotlight on her, and she did not appreciate it.

  “Well, I guess there are a lot of reasons. First, I don’t think I did anything wrong, so why shouldn’t I get the chance to defend myself? Second, why should I just roll over and die, while Allison Anders and her client get rewarded with a huge check just because they are aggressive and ruthless? Third, we have a young daughter. Mia’s eleven. I want to show her that, even if I lose, at least I stood up for what I believed was right. I would expect nothing less from her in life. Lastly, my worst fear already came true yesterday. They smeared me in the press, for all to see. I know they could do that again, and probably will, but it will never hurt the same way twice. I have nothing to lose.”

  Walt paused for a moment. Jenna sensed he was the kind of man who chose his words very carefully.

  “Your reasons are very typical, very emotional, and dangerously short-sighted.”

  Jenna was stunned and insulted by Walt’s candor. She wondered if Tom had given the same answer, would Walt have called it “emotional,” too? Even Tom stiffened at Walt’s assess
ment.

  Walt quickly added, “I know that isn’t what you were expecting to hear, and I hope you don’t take offense. I’m not paid to tell you what you want to hear, I’m paid to tell you what you need to hear. What you need to understand is that this lawsuit is not about justice. It’s not about right versus wrong, good versus evil. It’s about one thing and one thing only. Money. The sooner you come to terms with that and accept it, the better off you’ll be.

  “You say you want to go to trial and clear your name? Based on what I know of your case, I’d say your chances of being completely exonerated are about forty percent. That means there is a sixty percent chance that you go to trial and lose. In the meantime, you drag yourself and your family through the mud. Or, you do the smart thing and settle. Get rid of this.

  “Besides, the emotional state you’re in is no way to start trial preparations. You look weak and wounded, and I don’t blame you. But that’s not going to win over a jury. If you went to trial looking like you do right now, you would single-handedly destroy your case.”

  Abruptly, Walt turned his attention to Tom, “How do you feel about things?”

  Tom looked at his wife and then back at Walt.

  “I’m not sure. I’ve watched this destroy Jenna for nearly two years. It’s turned her against her career. She’s lost her self-confidence. I know how upset she is and how badly she wants to give it back to these sons-of-bitches. Honestly, I’m afraid it might ruin her in the process.”

  Walt nodded in agreement.

  “The decision is yours to make. I am only here to offer you legal advice. If you choose to proceed to trial, I will respect your decision and offer you counsel, as needed. My recommendation, based on what this has already done to you personally, is to settle. I know you’re meeting with Jim and Nancy at the end of the week to formulate a plan. I suggest you think this over for a few days. I am more than happy to chat with you again before you meet with them.”

  Jenna felt the need to defend herself. Walt had pieced together an impression of her that was inaccurate.

  “I’m taking your advice, by the way. I have an appointment with a psychiatrist tomorrow morning.” Jenna hoped to prove to Walt that she was taking control.

  Walt said, “Great. Who is it?”

  “His name is Evan Kendall.”

  “I know him well. In fact, he’s one of the names I would have offered to you. He’s a good guy. I think seeing him is a very good idea.”

  Jenna and Tom stood to leave, but not before handing Walter Morey a check for five thousand dollars.

  CHAPTER 58

  Jenna arrived at Dr. Kendall’s office fifteen minutes early. Sitting in the parking lot, she watched her hands shake as she rested them on the leather steering wheel. For Jenna, this was truly rock bottom. It was one thing to be emotional and stressed, but it was quite another to admit that your emotions were out of control.

  Worker bees poured into the office complex. Remaining in her car, Jenna watched the clock. With exactly seven minutes to spare, she exited the warmth of her Land Rover and felt the frigid winter wind whip across her body. To escape the bitter chill, she bolted toward the building.

  Jenna took the elevator up to the fourth floor and walked into Dr. Kendall’s office. The waiting room was dimly lit, with a couch along one wall. Classical music played softly over the speakers. On a coffee table sat a collection of magazines – National Geographic, The New Yorker, and Newsweek. There was another door, which apparently led to Dr. Kendall’s office. On it was a sign that read, “Please be seated until the doctor arrives.”

  She nervously took a seat on the couch and pulled out her phone, pretending to check email.

  At exactly nine o’clock, the doctor’s door opened. A middle-aged man in a suit walked out, avoiding eye contact with Jenna. On his heels, Dr. Kendall emerged. A slender man, Dr. Kendall was clean-shaven with gray hair that was freshly trimmed. His pants and dress shirt were meticulously pressed. He extended a hand toward Jenna.

  “Jenna Reiner? I’m Dr. Kendall. Please come in.”

  The office had soft lighting and was furnished with two oversized leather chairs and a leather couch.

  “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

  Jenna started to panic. Even the insignificant decision of where to plant her body strained her coping abilities. She settled on sitting in the center of the couch. Dr. Kendall seated himself in a leather chair across from her.

  “I know from what you said on the phone that you’re going through a tough lawsuit, and things have reached a peak. I read the Tribune article after you called me. I can imagine that you’re devastated. Why don’t we start with you telling me how you’re doing?”

  Wetness dripped from Jenna’s eyes. Dr. Kendall kindly slid a Kleenex box toward her.

  “I’m doing awful. My hands won’t stop shaking. My mind is racing. I can’t concentrate. I cry all the time. I can’t sleep, and I hardly eat. I’m angry, disgraced, and beaten down. I can barely function. Sometimes I don’t even know how I get from the morning to the night. I live in constant fear of which patient is going to sue me next. Besides all that, things are great.”

  Dr. Kendall listened intently. Much to Jenna’s relief, he did not sit there scribbling her words onto some note pad. Nor had Dr. Kendall asked Jenna to tell him about her mother or her dreams or any other kind of Freudian nonsense.

  “How do you feel toward the patient that’s suing you?”

  It had been so long since Jenna considered Michelle Hollings as a patient and not as a plaintiff, it took her a moment to compose a response.

  “At first, when I learned of the suit, I felt incredibly guilty. People around me kept telling me that I hadn’t done anything wrong, but I still could not shake the image of me plunging a deadly virus into my patient’s bloodstream. From the beginning, though, I knew I’d grow to hate her, and I do. She’s a lowlife scavenger. It’s surreal to think that she once trusted me enough to place her life in my hands. Now, she turns around and does everything she can to destroy me.”

  “Every emotion you’re having is completely normal,” said Dr. Kendall.

  “Oh, so losing your mind is just part of the process?” asked Jenna, her voice filled with sarcasm and pain.

  “You’re not losing your mind. What you’re describing is a normal response to an escalating situation over which you have little control. I’ve treated many physicians over the years that have been in the middle of a lawsuit. All the feelings you’re describing – guilt, anxiety, dread, sadness, frustration, insomnia – these are all very typical.

  “That being said, we need to get you on some medication that will help stabilize your mood, so you can focus. I also think we need to continue to meet. For now, I’d like that to be at least twice a week. You’re going through an intense ordeal, and things aren’t going to get any easier. Once I see how you respond to the medications, we can back off on the frequency of the visits. Does that sound like a reasonable plan?”

  Jenna blew her nose and nodded. “What medications were you thinking of?”

  “I think a benzodiazepine would be a good choice. Hopefully, it will help with your tremor, and it will also help you sleep.”

  “What about taking it at work? Won’t I get in trouble?” Jenna asked with concern.

  She knew benzodiazepines were a controlled substance, and the last thing she needed was to be caught with a mind-altering drug in her system.

  “If I prescribe it, then it’s fine. In fact, you don’t even need to divulge it. If there is ever an issue, I will defend you as your physician. I’d also like to start you on an antidepressant. The combination should help you feel much better.”

  For the first time in days, Jenna felt hopeful. The notion of not feeling miserable was invigorating.

  “How soon should I expect to feel any changes?”

  “With the benzodiazepine, right away. With the antidepressant, you may feel some changes immediately, but it typically takes four to five da
ys before patients start to notice any effects, and then about two weeks to reach maximal effects.”

  Jenna changed topics. “Can I ask for your advice on something?”

  “Sure.”

  “We were in the process of settlement negotiations when the Tribune story broke. The story made me so furious, I met with my lawyers on Monday and told them I will not settle. On their advice, I had to meet with personal counsel yesterday. That attorney’s advice was to settle. He said, in my emotional state, I’d ruin the case.

  “I know that settling would make this go away, but in my heart of hearts, I can’t do it. Every time I think of handing over a huge check to the patient and her scumbag attorney after what they did to trash me, I feel like part of my soul is dying.”

  “Well,” said Dr. Kendall, “let me preface things by reminding you that I’m not a lawyer. That being said, I’ve treated many physicians facing a medical malpractice suit.

  “My personal opinion is that from the onset of this story, going back to when Hillary Martin first made the news, I never thought the doctors were to blame. Hillary Martin? Absolutely. St. Augustine, as her employer? Probably. But the anesthesiologists? That seemed like a stretch. If you trust your attorneys and they have a strong defense, I would think you’d stand a reasonable chance of vindicating yourself.

  “As for your personal counsel, I’m sure he’s a solid attorney, but to make a judgment about your emotional fortitude one day after your being thrashed in the paper seems premature and presumptive. As your psychiatrist, I think you’ll be fine by the time the trial comes around.

  “With respect to settling or going to trial, I’ve seen many doctors face the exact same dilemma. Of the doctors who chose to settle, I would say at least ninety percent of them, when they look back on things six months or even years later, wish they hadn’t. Of those that continue to trial, it’s as stressful and awful as everyone says, but most are glad they did it.”