Error in Diagnosis (33 page)

JANUARY FOURTH

 

When Hollis Sinclair heard the light knock on his office door he looked up from his computer. His administrative assistant, Maya, was staring at him with anxiety in her eyes.

“Dean Morales is here,” she said softly.

He took note of the time while at the same moment a sour look wrinkled his face. The last thing he wanted to do was see Helen Morales. He had been dreading the meeting since he had learned about it yesterday.

“She's fifteen minutes early,” he said.

“Shall I ask her to wait?”

He shook his head a couple of times in annoyance before turning off his monitor.

“No, show her in.”

Maya withdrew, returning a few moments later to escort Helen into the office.

“Good morning,” Helen said, taking a seat in a high-backed chair in front of his desk.

“If you've come to share the GNS survival statistics with me, I've seen them,” he said. “It's a little early in the day for gloating, isn't it?”

“That's not the purpose of my visit, Hollis. I wanted to let you know that your name has been removed from the list of those under consideration for the chief of neurology appointment.”

He leaned forward and curled his fingers around the edge of his desk.

“If you're waiting for me to act surprised, you'll be up way past your bedtime. I've been expecting some sort of juvenile retaliation like this for days.” He tossed his pen down on his desk and said, “I'll stay on as acting chief for a few months while you recruit somebody because unlike some others around here, I have manners. I've already had several offers far better than the position I presently hold.”

“I'm afraid it's not that simple, Hollis.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“There are those who are concerned you engaged in unprofessional behavior during the GNS crisis.”

With protruding eyes, he asked, “Really. Who thinks that?”

“I do,” Helen said unequivocally.

“The notion's absurd and you know it. This is nothing but a witch hunt.”

“How many families did you ask to undergo a brain biopsy?”

“What's that got to do with anything?”

Helen renewed her question. “How many?”

“Five or six, I guess. I felt the more information we had the better.”

“Did you promise any of them preferential treatment if they cooperated?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It's a simple question. Did you tell them they would be amongst the first treated with Vitracide if they agreed to the brain biopsy?”

“I don't recall specifically, but supposing I did—what's the difference? The country was in a crisis. I did what I felt I had to do. The families were desperate for answers. The times called for bold action, not your Pollyanna approach to things. And as I recall, there were a number of physicians and board members who wholeheartedly supported me.”

Helen couldn't help rolling her eyes.

“I might have been able to overlook your gross insubordination toward me and maybe even the way you quietly leaked some key facts to the press against my instructions, but unethical behavior in the care of our patients is not something I'm prepared to ignore. In case you've forgotten, we're not in the business of promising families preferential access to medications.”

“If that's the extent of what concerns you, I think you should rethink things and—”

She held up her hand. “I'm not finished. The manufacturer of Vitracide contacted the FDA. They claimed that even though the drug was never administered, you used undue pressure to control its national distribution.”

“Let them try to prove it. My position is that I've done nothing unethical or inappropriate,” he responded with an uncaring shrug. “Any other news or advice you have for me, Dr. Morales?”

“As a matter of fact, there is. You'll have to appear in front of the Professional Conduct Committee to answer allegations of improper and unethical behavior. You will be afforded full due process as prescribed by the medical staff bylaws. You will have ample opportunity to present your side of things.”

“I remind you, Dr. Morales, that I am a tenured professor at this university.”

“Tenure is an honor. It doesn't imply blind exoneration for unscrupulous conduct.”

“I'm not without influence in this state,” he was close to shouting now. “If you force me, I'll fight you all the way to the governor's mansion.”

“You're not a gubernatorial appointee, Hollis. The one who hired you was me.”

“I'll tell you what really galls me about you. When was the last time you laid hands on a patient? I'm guessing . . . what, fifteen years ago? But that doesn't stop you from having the unmitigated audacity to sit in judgment of those of us with the courage to face dying
patients every day.” He picked up a report from his desk and began reading it. “You're a disgrace to our profession. If you have any further communication for me, take it up with my attorney.”

“Why, Hollis,” she responded with a knowing grin as she came to her feet, “you may sling all the accusations at me you like, but if you're spoiling for some ugly fight, you can forget it.”

“I know exactly what you're doing,” he said with a snicker. Helen noticed a sheen of sweat on his forehead that hadn't been there when she walked into his office. “You're trying to force me to resign.”

“That's a decision only you can make. But it's an option I would urge you to consider carefully. You understand if Southeastern State decides to terminate your academic appointment, we would be unable to support any application you might make to another medical school.” Helen started for the door. “As I said, if I were in your position, I'd seriously examine all of my options.”

When Jack walked into Tess's room, she was sitting in a chair talking to Mike.

“What do you think of this girl?” Mike asked in a voice drenched in pride. “She's acting as if nothing ever happened to her.”

“She's certainly as beautiful as ever,” he answered, walking over to Tess and kissing her on the forehead. “How are you feeling, shorty?”

“Like I've overslept everything on my agenda for a month. Your best buddy over here keeps telling me I have you to thank for saving my life.”

“He's always been prone to exaggeration. How's your headache?”

“Better. I'd say it's now similar to a three-martini hangover.”

“I'm pretty sure it will be gone in a few more days.”

Mike said, “We've been talking for over an hour. It's unbelievable. Her memory's perfect.”

“Really? Did she remember last year when you forgot your anniversary and called me in a panic to—”

“Easy, buddy,” Mike said with a short laugh. “That's privileged doctor-patient stuff.”

Tess tapped on the armrest of the chair next to her. He sat down.

“When are you going to tell me all the details of what happened to me?”

He pointed at her abdomen. “How about when baby Katie goes off to college?”

She shook her head. “You're as bad as Mike.”

“Sinclair stopped in for the first time yesterday,” Mike said with a disapproving smirk. “At best, I'd call it a drive-by visit. He acted like nothing happened.”

“Tess is fine. No need to dwell on the past.”

“I hope you're kidding because as far as I'm concerned that son of a bitch should be—”

“Let it go, Mike.” He turned his glance and attention back to Tess. “Did Madison do an ultrasound this afternoon?”

“Uh-huh. She said everything looked great.” With a coy smile she added, “Mike's been telling me you have a little thing for her. She's really cute, Jack.”

“It's too bad he's afraid to ask her out,” Mike said. “Even his mother called him a coward.”

“My mother? You've been talking to my mother about Madison?”

“Of course. Let's see. How did she put it again? Oh yeah. She called you the
Hindenburg
of relationships.”

Jack rubbed his hands together and said, “Okay. I think I've heard about enough of this. If you don't mind, let's talk about something else.”

“Mike tells me you're going back to Columbus tonight, and that he's flying back with you.”

“As much as I like hanging out with you guys, I'm afraid I have to get back. Do you mind if I take a quick look at you before we leave?”

Jack completed his exam in about ten minutes. There wasn't the slightest hint of any permanent neurologic injury.

“When can I go back to work?” she asked.

He shook his head at her. “Take a few weeks off. You've earned it.”

They talked for another half hour about a host of different things. Jack promised Tess he'd be back to check on her in a week. He couldn't help noticing that Mike kept stealing peeks at his watch and stalling.

“You about ready?” Jack asked him.

“This isn't a scheduled airline. We can go anytime. If you want to hang around awhile longer, we can. I think Madison said she might stop in again.”

“Nice try. I'm fine to go now.”

Tess motioned him to lean over. She reached up and hugged him around the neck. He could feel her tear-soaked face against his cheek.

“Thank you for everything,” she whispered in his ear.
“I'm the luckiest woman in the world to have two guardian angels like you and Mike in my life. I love you.”

Speechless for the moment, an affectionate smile came to his face. “I'll be back in about a week to check up on you.” He looked over at Mike. “Ready?”

Mike was a nonstop chatterbox all the way to the airport. He was unmistakably back to his old self. Jack smiled the whole time thinking how nice it was to have his best friend back.

Jack didn't arrive home until eleven o'clock. The flight back to Columbus was uneventful but he'd said an emotional good-bye to Mike at the airport. After dropping his luggage in the entranceway, he strolled into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and reached for a beer.

It was unseasonably warm and he decided to go out on the balcony. From the tenth floor, he had a great view of the Ohio State University campus and the Short North. He realized his involvement with GNS was far from over. To the contrary, it was just beginning. In the weeks and months to come, there would be scientific papers to write, lectures and seminars to attend and dozens of meetings with state and federal medical agencies.

He thought his mind would still be racing with the events of the past few weeks, but it wasn't. He stared out beyond the lights of the city. His view seemed infinite.
The scattered clouds were made silvery by the vibrant light of the moon. He took a slow sip of the beer, and for the first time in a long while, it seemed he was able to take a breath without feeling it catch.

•   •   •

Three hundred and fifty miles away from where Jack stood, Connie Recino sat beside her daughter in the intensive care unit at Illinois Memorial. It had been four days since her surgery and just over twenty-four hours since she had received the strep preparation.

Catching herself in a yawn, Connie quickly smothered it with a cupped hand. She gazed back at Maggie. Even though she was heavy-lidded from complete exhaustion, Connie suddenly became wide eyed when she saw her daughter's lips moving as if she were trying to speak. She craned her neck forward and set her gaze squarely upon Maggie's face. It took her only a few seconds to be sure—Maggie was trying to speak. Connie reached over to the bed control and raised the intensity of the overhead lights. It took only a few more seconds more for her to realize her daughter was mouthing the word
mother
over and over again.

Choking back a sea of tears, and speaking to Maggie as if she were three years old, she whispered, “Welcome back, angel. I love you.”

•   •   •

Two days later, Maggie was sitting in a chair watching television and brushing her hair. When her husband
walked into the room three months earlier than she expected, she dropped the brush. A few seconds after it hit the floor and long before she could have pushed herself out of the chair, he was kneeling at her side, gently pulling her head to his chest.