It's Nothing Personal (10 page)

“These are our patients!”
 

“How can they keep that information from
us?”

The noise level increased, but Jenna tuned
them all out.
 
She thought about
Keith Jones and whether this explained the ominous look he had given her the
day before.

Rob Wilson did his best to remain calm, but
his face flushed.
 
His fellow
physicians continued to bombard him with anger.
 
In an effort to regain control, he
pounded his fist on the table and bellowed at the group.

“Alright, everyone, we all need to calm
down.
 
This is the advice from our
attorneys.
 
As unsavory as it is, it
would be foolish and ill-advised to ignore their recommendations.

“Also, if any of you are contacted by the
media, counsel has strongly advised that all M.A.S. physicians refrain from
offering any commentary or speculation.”

In his concluding remarks, Rob Wilson
dropped an unexpected axe.
 
“You
must all understand that failure to abide by these guidelines could be grounds
for suspension or termination.
 
It
is imperative that we all act cohesively.”

Jenna could not believe what she had just
heard.
 
She felt agitated, nervous,
betrayed, belittled, and angry.
 
Jenna knew Hillary Martin would pay dearly for her crimes.
 
For everyone else pulled into this
nightmare, the fate of the scrub tech did not matter.
 
Patients would sue and since Hillary
Martin had nothing, the lawsuits would be aimed elsewhere.
 
Jenna was certain that meant both the
hospital
and
the doctors.

She thought about Keith Jones.
 
He struck her as a self-centered,
underhanded son-of-a-bitch.
 
As the
head of St. Augustine Hospital, Jenna was certain Mr. Jones would eventually
place public blame on the anesthesia doctors.
 
How far Keith Jones was prepared to go
in order to save his hospital remained to be seen.

The meeting officially adjourned, and Jenna
was eager to escape.
 
She had no
desire to dissect Rob Wilson’s words with any of the other doctors.
 
Jenna was walking to her car when she had
a thought that literally stopped her dead in her tracks.
 

What
would I do if Mia had gone in for a simple surgery and had come out infected
with hepatitis C?
 

Jenna felt fury and rage swell up inside her
at the thought of her daughter having been harmed.
 
Her answer came to her without
hesitation.
 

I
would sue everyone involved and take him or her for all that they had.
 
I wouldn’t stop until everyone who bore
any responsibility suffered miserably.
 
I would seek revenge.

At that exact moment, Jenna fully
comprehended the degree of trouble she faced if she indeed had an infected
patient.

CHAPTER 12

August 2010

The Reiner family returned from a
well-deserved, two-week vacation in Hawaii.
 
In Jenna’s absence, life slowly returned
to near normal for the medical community at St. Augustine Hospital.
 
Media coverage dwindled.
 
Patients continued to be tested for
hepatitis C, but the majority had already been through the process.
 
The lobby of St. Augustine had been
restored to its pre-hepatitis, non-chaotic state.
 
Conversation amongst members of the
hospital staff reverted to more mundane topics.
 
Patients stopped asking about the
outbreak.
 

Jenna’s first day back to work unfolded
uneventfully, with easy cases and uncomplicated patients.
 
After her last case, Jenna stopped by
the OR control desk to pick up her mail.
 
Absent-mindedly, she sorted through the stack of envelopes and magazines
that had accumulated during her absence, while her mind drifted back to her
family’s vacation.
 
Visions of Mia
frolicking in the ocean played in Jenna’s mind.
 
Mia had looked radiant with her wet hair
tangled from the seawater, her light tan shining in the sun, and her blue-green
eyes sparkling with unabated happiness.
 
Jenna relished the memory.

Her thoughts of Mia were instantly
overshadowed by a sense of impending trouble when she came across the last
envelope in the pile.
 
In her hand,
she held a letter from St. Augustine Hospital, addressed to her, and marked
with a big red stamp, “CONFIDENTIAL.”
 
Jenna ripped open the envelope and yanked
out the letter.
 

At that moment, Jenna’s entire life was
dissolving.
 
Everything she had
strived to achieve was blowing away, like a pile of dust.
 
Standing in the small room, Jenna felt
the air grow thick and heavy.
 
It
hurt to breathe.
 
Scorching bile
rose up from her stomach, coating the back of her throat.
 
She stared at the letter, but the words
bled into one another – a sheet of blurry black waves upon a white
background.
 
Jenna needed to flee
before anyone could see her.
 
Attempting to escape, her legs buckled beneath her.
 
Unsteady and weak, she pushed herself
into motion.

Jenna hastily shoved the letter in her bag and
bolted for the back staircase.
 
Clumsily, she lifted her briefcase and charged down three flights of
stairs, skipping one and sometimes two steps as she made her descent.
 
Sprinting across the parking garage,
Jenna reached her car.
 
Breathless
and sweaty, she unlocked the driver’s door and jumped in.
 
Her tires squealed against the pavement
as she exited the garage and pulled out on to the main street.
 

Immediately, Jenna dialed Tom.
 
He answered on the second ring.

“Hey, Jenna.
 
Think you’ll make it home in time to
meet Mia at the bus stop?” he asked casually.

On the other end, Jenna tried to talk, but
she was wracked by sobs.
 
Tom was
instantly concerned.
 
He shouted
into the phone,
 
“Jenna?
 
Jenna!
 
Are you okay?
 
What’s going on?
 
Jenna, talk to me!”

Jenna’s entire body shook.
 
She knew she had to get off the
road.
 
Spotting a grocery store,
Jenna abruptly changed lanes and nearly sideswiped a woman driving an expensive
convertible.
 
Ignoring the angry
honks and hostile gestures from the enraged woman, Jenna pulled into the
parking lot and stopped her car.
 
Meanwhile, Tom continued shouting frantically at her through the phone.

“Jenna!
 
You have to talk.
 
Come on,
you’re really scaring me.”

Jenna was now gulping for air, barely able
to get out the words, “I’m . . . getting . . . sued.”
 

Tom was panic-stricken.
 
“Jenna, I can’t understand you.
 
You need to calm down.
 
Take some deep breaths, and then tell me
what’s wrong.”

He heard his wife suck in air and blow it
out several times.
 
Finally, her
wailing seemed to subside.
 

Tom gently asked, “Are you okay?”

All Jenna could do was eek out the word “no”
before she started crying again.
 
Several minutes passed before she regained a very modest level of
composure.
 
Whimpering softly, Jenna
told her husband, “Tom, I’m getting sued.
 
I got a letter from St. Augustine.
 
What am I going to do?”

“Where are you right
now?”

“I pulled off into a parking lot of some
grocery store.
 
I nearly took out
some socialite in a convertible as I pulled in.”

“Can you read me the letter?”

Tom could hear the rustling of paper in the
background.
 
Jenna choked on the
words as she spoke.

“This letter is to notify you that your
patient, Michelle Hollings, has retained Allison Anders of Silverstein, Howell,
and Anders P.C.”

 
“Oh, baby.
 
I’m so sorry.
 
Are you okay to drive?
 
Do you want me to come get you?”
 
Tom had never seen Jenna lose control
like this before.

Jenna leaned her face against the glass of
the car door, smearing makeup across the window.
 
The coolness soothed her flushed
skin.
 
Closing her eyes, she said,
“I’ll be alright.
 
I just need to
calm down for a few more minutes before I get back on the road.
 
Can you take care of Mia?”

Tom reassured his wife, “Don’t worry about
Mia, I’ll be there for her at the bus stop.
 
Take all the time you need, but don’t
drive until you’re calm.
 
It’s not
fair to the innocent debutantes on the road.”

Jenna forced herself to chuckle at his
attempt at humor.
 
“Thanks.
 
I’ll call you when I’m on my way home.”

CHAPTER 13

For several minutes, Jenna sat in her SUV,
gazing out the window, but seeing nothing.
 
She rolled down the windows and opened the sunroof, allowing a warm,
late summer breeze to sweep through the car.
 

Leaning her head back and staring up at the
puffy clouds, Jenna tried to figure out what to do next.
 
The hum of traffic as people drove home
from work permeated the air.
 
In the
rearview mirror, Jenna noticed two men walking in the direction of her
car.
 
They were probably harmless,
but Jenna was already rattled.
 
Slightly panicked, she locked the doors, rolled up the windows, and
pulled out of the parking lot.
 

Jenna got back on the road and was surprised
when her phone rang.
 
The number on
the screen displayed an unfamiliar area code.
 

Cautiously, Jenna answered.
 
“Hello?”

The unfamiliar man on the other end had a
gentle, southern drawl.

“Hello.
 
May I please speak with Dr. Jenna Reiner?”

Jenna remembered Rob Wilson’s warning about
the press and became instantly paranoid.
 

“May I ask who’s calling?”
 
Jenna’s guard was up.

“Yes ma’am.
 
This is Randy Stevens.
 
I’m one of the senior malpractice
attorneys with The Doctor’s Mutual Group.”

Jenna felt slightly embarrassed.
 
“Oh, I’m sorry.
 
This is Jenna Reiner.
 
I didn’t recognize the number on caller ID.
 
I hope I didn’t come off as rude.”

“Not at all, Dr. Reiner.
 
I hope you don’t mind me calling you,
but Rob Wilson just called and informed me of the letter you received today.”

Jenna’s wariness escalated.
 
The only person that Jenna had told
about the letter was her husband, and that was only minutes ago.
 

Confused, she asked, “Rob Wilson?
 
How would he know?”

“Rob Wilson was privy to that information
based upon his position of Anesthesia Department Chair.
 
St. Augustine provided him with a list
of names this morning.”

“What do you mean?
 
I’m not the only one who got a
letter?
 
How many letters were sent
out?”

Jenna’s mind was spinning, one worry melding
into the next.

Randy answered without hesitation,
 
“At this point, we know of twenty-eight
doctors that received letters today.
 
That’s more than the number of cases
formally linked to Hillary Martin.
 
Obviously, some of these letters will turn out to be nothing.
 
Hopefully, yours will be among
them.
 

“It’s important for you to understand that,
at this point, you are not being sued.
 
Hopefully that relieves some of your anxiety.
 
The letter could mean anything.
 
This patient may not even have
hepatitis, or she may have hepatitis that is unrelated to Hillary Martin.
 
This incident has received a lot of
press coverage and, unfortunately, there are always people out there looking
for an easy payoff.”

The number of letters Randy Stevens quoted
terrified Jenna.
 
Once again, she
started to weep.
 
Although Jenna
tried to keep it from coming through in her voice, her attempts were
futile.
 

Jenna asked, “How will I know?
 
I mean, how will I know if I’m one of
the lucky ones where it turns out to be nothing?”

“Unfortunately,” said Randy, “we just have
to sit back and wait.
 
If this
patient is going to file a formal lawsuit, her lawyers will let us know soon
enough.
 
For now, just keep going
about your business as best you can.”