The Family Doctor (16 page)

Feeling let down all over again, Kate checked her morning schedule. She had a meeting with a disgruntled patient, and she was pleased when he arrived early. She greeted him and introduced herself, making him comfortable and offering him a cup of coffee, which he refused.

Walter Rundle was a tall, emaciated man who looked much older than his forty-three years. He sat slumped in the chair, cradling his right arm.

“Tell me what's bothering you, Mr. Rundle,”
Kate invited. “I understand you had recent surgery on your arm.”

Her words unleashed a torrent of emotion and information. Walter had come to St. Joe's for simple surgery, an ulnar nerve transposition to relieve tingling and numbness in his right elbow. He was a house painter, and because of the numbness he was having difficulty doing his job.

“Before the operation, Dr. Snider told me there was nothing to it, he said it was real simple surgery,” Walter recounted in a bitter voice. “But now I've got awful pain in my hand and arm. It never quits, and I can't work at all.”

“Did you ask the surgeon what might be causing it?”

Walter nodded. “Sure I did. I asked Dr. Snider but all he said was,
There's nothing more I can do for you.
” He shook his head. “That just isn't good enough, Ms. Lewis. I don't even know how the operation went, nobody would explain it to me. And this pain in my hand and arm is so bad I gotta take pills to sleep, and I get so mad I feel like hitting somebody, and that's not my nature. I'm not a fighting sort of man.”

Kate thought of Leslie. The pain of her mother's death had made her angry enough to say she wanted to kill the doctor she thought responsible. No doubt about it, pain could bring out depths of anger. The one lecture she'd attended in Edmonton had warned
that patients needed explanations when something went awry.

“Would you like me to try and find out exactly what happened during the operation?”

“Yeah, I really would.” Walter nodded. “Just knowing would make a difference. Just thinking somebody cared what happened.”

Kate talked to him awhile longer. Walter told her that his wife worked as a waitress and they had two teenage sons still in school. He was terribly worried about being able to support his family.

She arranged to meet him again the following day, after she had more information. She told him she'd speak to Dr. Snider and see if he would talk to Walter about the operation.

“Thanks for taking the trouble to listen,” Walter said before he left. “Trouble with a hospital this size is nobody takes the time to listen.”

Touched by his words, Kate did her best to find out what had gone on in the operating room during Walter's surgery. Dr. Snider didn't return her message, so she made her way to his office just before lunch.

Snider was in his early fifties, distinguished, perfectly groomed and smartly dressed. He was obviously not pleased to have Kate asking questions. When she explained why she was there, he snapped, “Really, I think we're making far too much of this incident.”

Kate wondered if Snider would think so if it was
his arm that had been damaged, but of course she didn't say that. Instead, she asked him to describe what had occurred during surgery.

In an impatient tone, he explained, “The patient had a small bleed into his arm following the initial procedure. The problem was recognized immediately and he was taken back into surgery.”

“And what exactly was the problem that caused the bleed?” Kate made certain she kept her tone and her questions nonjudgmental, even though she could see by the reddening of Snider's face that he resented her queries. She'd used Walter's name in an effort to force the doctor to see him as a person and not just as a patient.

“A small vessel hadn't been tied off—it's a very common occurrence,” he told her. “And now, Ms. Lewis, I have patients waiting, so if you would be so kind…” He held a hand out toward the door, but Kate wasn't quite ready to leave.

“Would you come to a meeting with the Rundles and explain to them exactly what you've told me? I feel it would make a huge difference to them, just to know—”

“Absolutely not.” Snider's face went purple and his eyes bugged out. “You know as well as I do what an admission of error would mean in cases like this—there'd be a lawsuit. St. Joseph's can't afford that and neither can I. I'm appalled you'd suggest such a thing.”

“I'm not suggesting you say the mistake was
your fault, Doctor.” Kate recalled the lecturer's words. “Patients most often sue when they suspect a coverup and feel that the problem could happen to someone else. All I'm asking is that you meet with the Rundles, tell them an error was made and apologize for it. I really believe that's all Walter wants here.”

“And why would I do that?” The surgeon was outraged. “It certainly wasn't
my
fault. I wasn't in that OR all by myself, you know.”

“We're not trying to lay blame here.” Kate did her best to remain composed, but it was tough. “As I said, this isn't a case of finding fault. It's simply an effort to make the patient understand why he's having pain and to say we're sorry.”

“Well, you can count me out.” Snider stormed over to the door and held it open. “Goodbye, Ms. Lewis.”

Kate had no choice except to walk out the door. The encounter upset her, and she wished that Tony were available to talk to about it. She called his secretary again and learned that the operation was over, and he'd gone straight from the OR to his office. She didn't bother trying to reach him there. She knew he'd have a full roster of patients waiting to see him.

Feeling off balance and very alone, Kate bought a sandwich from the cafeteria and took it back to her office. She had calls to answer, calls to make, reports to write. Her knee still ached, but in the
space of one short day, the rest of Edmonton was becoming little more than a wistful memory.

 

“D
R.
O'C
ONNOR, YOUR MOTHER'S
on the phone, line three.” Tony's office nurse, Heather, stuck her head in the door just long enough to give him the message.

One patient had left, and Tony knew that another two were waiting in his examining rooms. He picked up the receiver and pushed the button.

“Hello, Mom. What's up? Is McKensy okay?”

Dorothy seldom called him at the office. Her voice was high and strained, and Tony was immediately concerned.

“She's fine. She just got home from her friend's house, and she's in the kitchen having a snack. I just wanted to tell you that I spoke to the RCMP this afternoon. They may call you—I gave them your number there.”

Tony frowned. “What would they be calling me about?”

“About my ring.” Dorothy's voice was defiant. “I told them your father is coming back into Canada and that I want the ring that he stole from me.”

Shutting his eyes, Tony prayed for patience. “He didn't steal the damned thing, Mom. You
gave
it to him. When you give someone a gift, you don't ask for it back or pretend it's been stolen.”

Dorothy ignored reason, as she always did. “The ring was mine. It was an heirloom and he didn't
return it when I asked him for it,” she insisted. “That's theft.”

“And what did the cops say about it?”

There was a long pause. “The corporal was young, he was very nice,” Dorothy finally said. “He asked if I'd made a complaint to the police when the ring was taken, and of course I hadn't. I was far too upset at the time to think straight, and I had all of you children to support. I told him that.”

Tony surmised that the police had politely told her she didn't have a case. One mark for the RCMP.

“He said that one of you should speak to your father about it for me. He said the RCMP is reluctant to become involved in family matters of this kind, and that the best thing would be for one of you kids to ask for the ring back. I talked it over with Wilson, and he said since you're the one who's kept in contact with Ford, you're the one he might listen to.”

And Wilson was an expert at passing the buck and stirring the pot, Tony fumed. “Well, Mom, that's not going to happen. I'm not asking Dad for the damned ring, so don't entertain that idea for one moment.” Tony couldn't believe Dorothy would go to these lengths. He remembered Kate saying that his mother might benefit from counseling, and now he knew she'd been right. Dorothy was acting deranged.

She was crying by this time. Tony could hear the
sniffles, the nose blowing. “You have no idea what that ring meant to me,” Dorothy wailed.

“Grammy? Do you want a tissue?”

In the background, Tony heard McKensy's concerned voice, and his heart sank. He hated having his daughter witness these hysterical scenes.

“Grammy, what's wrong?”

“Mom, let me talk to McKensy.” Tony waited, and when his daughter came on the line, he said, “McKensy, Grandma's not feeling too well. Make her a cup of tea and I'll be home in about an hour and a half.”

He'd see the patients waiting in the office, but he'd get Heather to cancel the ones who hadn't arrived yet. “You and I'll go out for dinner, duchess—you pick the place.”

“Okay, Papa. Is Grammy coming with us?”

Not if he could help it.
“Grandma's upset. I'm sure she'd prefer having the evening to herself.”

He decided that after McKensy was in bed he'd have a talk with Dorothy and try to convince her that it would be a good idea for her to speak to someone besides her family about her feelings. Not that it was likely to do any good; Dorothy didn't respond well to advice.

But this time he was going to tell her that if she went on with this drama about Ford and the ring, Tony would make other arrangements for McKensy's care. He hadn't a clue what arrangements those would be, but he wouldn't have his daughter
exposed to any more of Dorothy's viciousness about Ford.

“Doctor?” Heather tapped on the door. “Mr. Chan is waiting in three.”

Tony had hoped to find time to see Kate, but it wasn't going to happen. He'd call her and make a date for tomorrow evening. He wanted to be with her instead of just hearing her voice on the phone. How was it possible to miss someone this much when he'd only spent a couple of days with her?

The idea of renting a hotel room for a few hours was beginning to sound better and better.

I
T WAS TWILIGHT THE FOLLOWING
evening by the time Tony pulled up in front of Kate's house. The two old cars were still there, and even more engine parts were strewn across the overgrown lawn. He walked up the sidewalk and rang the doorbell, and Kate opened it almost immediately. She must have been watching for him. It made him feel good when she took his hand and drew him inside, then wrapped her arms around him.

“I miss you, I miss your smell, I miss room service,” she mumbled into the front of his shirt. He bent and kissed her passionately, and just having her in his arms again made up for some of the frustrations of the past two days.

“Let's go.” He'd invited her to go out for dinner, but she'd said she was giving Eliza dinner that day. She'd asked him to join them, but he suggested they go out later for dessert and coffee. He wasn't comfortable around Eliza; the kid really knew how to push his buttons.

“Eliza's gone swimming with a friend, and Scott's going to pick her up afterward, so the evening's free. And I so much want to talk to you,
Tony. There's a situation at work I really need your help with.”

He almost suggested just staying here, at her house. He thought of her bedroom, of making love to her on her wide bed, but then he thought of her ex-husband living somewhere behind one of the walls and decided against it. The guy was liable to come thundering in on some pretext or other, and then Tony would have to kill him. It was probably wiser to go out. They'd find a quiet spot with a bench where they could sit, and maybe he could kiss her without worrying about interruptions. Later he'd bring up his suggestion about going to a hotel for a few hours. He had a nice one in mind, down by the ocean.

 

T
HEY HAD FROZEN YOGURT
, and he drove them to a park. He found the bench, but the kissing wasn't happening the way he'd hoped. Instead, Kate was filling him in on an incident involving a patient and George Snider.

“So let me get this straight.” Tony had an arm around her shoulders, and the velvety softness of her skin was distracting him. “This patient had a bleed, which George took care of, and now you think he ought to tell the patient exactly what happened and say he's sorry?”

Kate bobbed her head, and her hair tickled his cheek.

“Yes, I do. Walter is in constant pain. He needs
and deserves an explanation and an apology. I really think it would make a difference if Snider would just tell the poor man exactly what happened.”

“And George refuses?”

“Absolutely. He was angry with me for even suggesting it. Do you think you could speak to Snider, convince him that it's in St. Joe's best interests for him to meet Walter and tell him he's sorry for his pain? Or if Snider refuses, which I'm pretty sure he will, then maybe you could meet with Walter and extend the hospital's sympathy.”

Tony considered it, but the whole idea seemed just as ridiculous as Dorothy's request that he speak to his father about the damned ring. It was the second time he was being asked to do something he didn't want to do, and he was getting damned tired of it.

He kept his voice reasonable. “Look, Kate, there's no real proof that this guy's pain is because of the bleeding vessel.”

“What?” He felt her shoulders stiffen, and she moved away so that his arm was no longer around her. “I can't believe you said that. The pain began directly after the bleed. Of course that's what caused it.”

Annoyance was fast becoming anger, and he didn't want to be angry with her. He wanted this whole conversation to go away. He wanted to draw her into his arms and remind her what it felt like
to kiss and be kissed. He held on to his temper and tried reason. “There's absolutely nothing anyone can do about the pain except prescribe medication. George is right about that. He's a competent and careful surgeon, there's never been a question of negligence, and in my opinion, there isn't now. Kate, all I'm thinking is that there's huge potential here for a costly lawsuit against St. Joe's.”

“Darned right there is. Which is exactly why I think Snider should accept responsibility and tell this poor man he's sorry for what happened. At that session I attended in Edmonton, the lecturer said that one of the big reasons people go ahead with lawsuits is they feel it might stop someone else from going through the same thing. And I can't believe you're suggesting nondisclosure just to avoid a lawsuit, Tony. I think Walter's upset because he feels, and rightly so, that an error was intentionally concealed from him. And not a single person has said they're sorry for what happened to him, either.”

Tony felt his temper begin to simmer. She couldn't be accusing him of unethical behavior, could she? “I'm not suggesting nondisclosure to avoid a lawsuit,” he snapped. “And I resent you even suggesting I am. What I am saying is that you're overstepping hospital boundaries by hinting that Snider did something wrong.”

Her eyes were green ice particles, and her arms were folded protectively across her breasts. “I'm
not trying to lay blame here, Tony, don't you get that? All I'm saying is that when a mistake has been made and the patient is in pain because of it, an apology is in order. Walter's angry and an angry person is a person in need.”

Kate and her damned aphorisms. He blew out an exasperated breath and shot to his feet. “In this instance, an angry person is just a potential lawsuit, don't
you
get
that?
”

She gave him a pitying look that really got under his skin. “An apology isn't an admission of guilt or liability. Walter needs to hear that someone's sorry for what happened to him, and it's not enough for me to say it. He needs to hear it from the person who made the mistake in the first place, or from someone in a position of authority.”

The frustration he felt with his mother and the frustration he was feeling at the way the evening was turning out combined and pushed him over the edge—he completely lost his temper.

“For God's sake, Kate, stop being a bleeding heart and get practical about your job, or you'll lose it,” he thundered.

Her sharply indrawn breath told him he'd gone too far.

She looked up at him with huge, wounded eyes. “Are you threatening me, Tony?”

He felt like a bastard, but he was too frustrated and angry for apologies. “Of course I'm not,” he
growled. “We're simply having a discussion, that's all.”

“No we aren't.” She shook her head. “We're having a fight. You really hurt me Tony, when you called me a bleeding heart.”

The pain in her voice made him ashamed of himself, but this had gone way too far for him to back down now. He believed what he said about Snider. “I'm sorry for that, Kate, but the fact is I think you're wrong about this situation.”

“Yeah, I can see you do. And it points out the differences between us. I'd have thought you'd have learned during your own hospital stay how important it is for people to be honest and to apologize when something goes wrong. It's too bad you didn't attend some of those lectures in Edmonton on the need to inform.”

Her accusation stung, and her words hurt. In the heat of the moment he'd entirely forgotten about his own experience as a patient. And to have her say he should have gone to lectures rather than make love with her really crushed his ego. He clamped his mouth into a tight line.

Kate didn't stop there, either. “You don't understand conflict resolution, Tony. Just because your mother deals with conflict by bullying and accusing doesn't mean there isn't a better way.”

She was dead on about Dorothy, and any other time Tony would have been the first to admit it. But right now he wasn't in a mood to admit any
thing. All Kate was doing was making him feel defensive and hurt—and furious. She was making him say things he wouldn't have said if she hadn't backed him into a corner.

“Well, I don't think letting that ex-husband of yours walk all over you is a particularly good example of conflict resolution.” He knew he shouldn't bring her ex into this, but she'd used his mother, hadn't she?

Her face flushed and then went completely white. “I'd like you to drive me home now, Tony.”

The realization that they'd wasted precious time fighting when they could have been in each other's arms absolutely galled him. Half of him wanted to grab her and hold her until the anger went away, but there was still the ugly business of Snider and the damned patient. He couldn't compromise on that.

She walked to the car and he silently opened the door for her.

They didn't speak on the drive home, and Kate got out of the car the moment he pulled up in front of her house.

Even then, he would have gotten out and followed her to the door, but three men were lounging against the old wrecks in her driveway. They had cans of beer, and one of them, the fat one with the beard, called out, “Hey, Katie, Eliza's in bed. She wants you to go down and say good-night.”

“Did she wash her hair, Scott? The chlorine always discolors it.”

The domesticity of the scene revolted him, and Tony drove away before Kate's ex-husband replied.

 

K
ATE WAS DEVASTATED
by the things she and Tony had said to each other. She kept thinking all evening that he'd come back, or at least call, but he didn't. His harsh words reverberated in her brain, and the depth of the hurt she felt was a direct indication of how deeply she'd come to care for him. That frightened her as much as the quarrel.

At work the following day, she considered going to his office, and by midmorning she managed to screw up the courage to do so, but his secretary said he wasn't in and wasn't expected. She didn't say where Tony was and Kate didn't ask.

Walter and his wife both came for the meeting Kate had set up, and she had to tell them that Dr. Snider refused to attend. She apologized on his behalf, and although Walter and his wife thanked her, they also said they were going to see a lawyer. A friend had advised them they had a good case against the surgeon and the medical center as well.

Kate felt absolutely defeated and on the verge of tears. The feeling intensified when Margot, one of the nurses from the ER, knocked on her door that afternoon.

“I hate to bother you with this, Kate, but everyone in the ER is worried and upset. There's some
thing going on with Leslie. I know her mom just died, but she's hollering at people and she even told off a patient yesterday, an addict we see a lot who's just a sad, harmless person. When I tried to talk to Les about it, she went ballistic, and we got into a big fight.”

Margot had worked in the ER for several years, and now she started to cry. “She said that I've always been a problem,” she sobbed. “She said that I'm hard to get along with and that before now she's covered for me, but she won't anymore. I couldn't sleep all night, thinking about it.”

Kate was appalled. She'd never known Leslie to attack anyone this way. “That must have been very hurtful, Margot.”

Unable to speak for sobbing, Margot nodded.

“Would it help if I got Leslie to come over, and the three of us talked it through?”

“I don't know.” Margot hesitated. “I guess so. I don't see how we can go on working together unless we get it sorted out,” she said in a choked voice.

“I'll go to the ER right now and see if she can join us,” Kate said, putting the cup of tea she'd just made and a box of tissues in front of Margot. “I'll be back in fifteen minutes.”

But Kate came back alone. Leslie had flatly refused to discuss anything with Margot. “She's deserved a reprimand for a long time,” Leslie had
said in an angry tone. “There's nothing more to talk about as far as I'm concerned.”

Margot was more upset than ever when Kate told her that Leslie wouldn't discuss the issue. “I'm going to see if there're any openings in another department,” she said. “I can't stand the strain of being around someone who thinks I'm not a good nurse.”

Kate did what she could to reassure Margot, but she knew it wasn't effective, and she felt deeply frustrated when the woman finally left her office.

The phone rang and Kate snatched it up, hoping it was Tony.

“Ms. Lewis?” It was a man, but not the right one. “My name is Kent Johns, my firm represents St. Joseph's in legal matters.”

Kate's heart sank, and her spirits dropped even lower as she listened. Dr. Snider had contacted the lawyer. In Snider's opinion, Kate had left the hospital wide open to a charge of medical negligence by what she'd said to Walter Rundle. The lawyer wanted to hear from her exactly what had occurred.

She told him, wondering why the surgeon hadn't gone to Tony instead of to the legal firm. Or maybe he had; maybe Tony had told him to call the lawyer. Despair almost overwhelmed her. She had to make an enormous effort to stay calm as she informed Kent Johns that there was no question of blaming Dr. Snider, that all she'd suggested was that he
speak to Walter Rundle and explain what had happened during the operation.

The lawyer listened in disapproving silence and then gave Kate what amounted to a reprimand. “Your first responsibility should be to your employer,” he concluded in a snotty voice, and by the time he hung up, Kate felt like a child who'd had her knuckles unfairly rapped.

The phone rang again, and this time she was wary as she lifted the receiver.

“Kate, could you come over to my office for a moment?” This time it was Tony, and for an instant her spirits soared, but they plummeted to an all-time low when he added, “Three members of the hospital board are here with me. We've just been notified that a charge of medical negligence is being brought against the hospital. The claimant is Walter Rundle, and he says you supported him.”

Kate swallowed hard. “I'll be right there.” She'd thought she couldn't feel any worse, but apparently there were depths of misery she'd never explored until now.