First Do No Harm (Benjamin Davis Book Series, Book 1) (6 page)

Herman chirped in, “So you’re not denying that you’re a lesbian?”

Stevenson whispered something in Herman’s ear.

Seeing this angered Laura, and she lost her cool. “I thought we were putting this meeting on the record. Why is Dr. Herman whispering? Mr. Stevenson, what is the good doctor hiding?”

It was Stevenson’s turn to be aggressive. “Dr. Patel, your last statement was a misrepresentation of the events and distorted the record. Dr. Herman didn’t whisper in my ear. Rather I whispered in his. I have no personal knowledge of any of the facts being investigated, so the only thing I could have told him was legal advice. My legal advice to him is protected by the attorney-client privilege.”

She was shaken. If she wasn’t, she might have pointed out that Stevenson represented the hospital, not Dr. Herman.

The office felt small and hot, but she managed to regain her composure. “Before I move on from what happened this morning, I want to state for the record that almost every member of the ER staff can verify what I’ve said and can confirm the inappropriate behavior of Dr. Herman. I intend to collect written statements—”

Dr. Kelly jumped in hard and barked at her, “You’ll do no such thing. No one other than the Executive Medical Committee will investigate these charges. If our investigation is interfered with or hampered by you in any way, there will be serious consequences. Do you understand, Dr. Patel? Do you have anything more to say?”

She decided that since a record was being made, she might as well be sure it was complete. She decided not to hold anything back and started to give her statement.

Dr. Kelly immediately interrupted, “If that’s all, Dr. Patel, we’ll adjourn this meeting.”

The hospital’s investigation is going to be a whitewash. This might be my last opportunity to say my piece
. “No, I’m not done, sir. There’s a scam going on, and this hospital is a part of it. Mr. Douglas knows about it. I’ve reported it to him twice and made a formal complaint. A woman died unnecessarily two months ago because of it.”

Glancing at Dr. Herman, she watched his bright blue eyes turn to steel. “This scheme has to do with laparoscopic gallbladder surgeries recommended by Dr. Herman and performed by Dr. English. In the last two years, the number of gallbladder surgeries at this
hospital has increased six-fold. I sat down and reviewed the surgical logs from before and after Dr. Herman and Dr. English arrived at this hospital. Dr. Herman’s purchasing an ultrasound machine and Dr. English’s training in the use of the laparoscope should be obvious evidence of their involvement with the dramatic increase in the number of procedures. Who proctored Dr. English in laparoscopic gallbladder surgery?”

Dr. Kelly looked at Douglas, and Douglas, back at him. They didn’t have an answer because there was no good answer to the question.

Laura took their silence as her opportunity to continue: “He took a three-day course, and then he showed up at Plainview Community Hospital and started performing laparoscopic gallbladder surgeries. There are some weeks English removes a gallbladder every day. Who at the hospital made sure that he knew what the hell he was doing? I’ll tell you. No one.”

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?

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 upstairs. 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.”