It's Nothing Personal (11 page)

“Easy for you to say,”
said Jenna, more bitterly than she intended.

Randy did not take offense.
 
He said kindly, “I know.
 
I’m not the one who has to go through
this.
 
If you ever need to talk or
have any questions, please call me – anytime.
 
I have your email address, and I will
send my office and cell phone numbers to you.
 
We’ve hired local attorneys to represent
the members of your group.
 
I will
also send their contact information.
 
I expect they will be in touch with you very soon.

“I know that Dr. Wilson has already advised
you not to discuss this matter with anyone, but I need to make sure you
understand that.
 
Even conversations
you have with trusted friends and colleagues can be used against you, if this
ever goes to court.
 
You can talk to
me, the local attorneys who represent you, your spouse, your psychiatrist, and
your priest.
 
That’s it.
 
Everyone else is off limits, okay?”

“Okay,” responded Jenna.
 
Randy Steven’s instructions made her
feel isolated.

“From this point forward, Dr. Reiner, I want
you to send any documents you receive directly to me and the local attorneys.”

Randy truly felt sorry for Jenna.
 
From their short conversation, Randy
surmised Jenna Reiner did not have the arrogance or inflated self-confidence
that he witnessed in most physicians.
 
He correctly sensed that Jenna Reiner was a humble and honest person who
was in over her head and scared out of her mind.

“Dr. Reiner,” Randy
asked, “do you have kids?”

The mere thought of Mia brought a sense of
calm to Jenna.
 
“Yeah, I have little
girl.
 
Mia just turned eleven.”

“My best advice for you right now is to
spend time with her and your husband.
 
Remember, they are what really matter in life.
 
Don’t neglect the basics –
exercise, sleep.
 
It’s easier said
than done, but don’t let this consume you.
 
If not for your sake, then for your husband’s and your daughter’s.
 
Because, believe me, the stress quickly
filters down onto those you love the most.”

“Thank you.
 
You’re right.
 
And, please call me Jenna.”

“Only if you agree to
call me Randy.
 
Is there anything
else I can do for you tonight, Jenna?”

“Pour me a stiff cocktail,” Jenna
joked.
 
She was immediately self-conscious
about her comment.
 
The last thing
she needed was her attorney suspecting she had a substance abuse problem.
 
Every move she made from this point
forward would be subject to scrutiny.
 
Attempting to recover, Jenna said, “Just kidding.
 
No, I think we’ve discussed everything
we needed to.
 
Like you said,
there’s nothing to do but wait and see.”

“Unfortunately,” said Randy empathetically,
“that’s all we can do.”

CHAPTER 14

September 2010

A week had passed since Jenna received the
letter from St. Augustine.
 
Following Randy’s advice, she did her best to go about life as usual,
but found it impossible.
 
Jenna felt
as though she were stranded in the ocean, treading water, waiting to see if
eventually the sharks would get her.
 

On Thursday, Jenna finished her cases by
early afternoon.
 
Feeling restless
and hoping to clear her head, she decided to hurry home and take Ginger for a
jog before Mia got out of school.
 
Jenna marched through the hospital lobby, completely preoccupied.
 
Before exiting the building, she stopped
by the doors and fished through her bag for her car keys.
 
Bent over, rifling through hospital
badges, gas receipts, and handfuls of pens, Jenna did not notice the attractive
young man wearing jeans and a polo shirt headed directly for her.
 

“Jenna Reiner?” asked the man in a friendly,
familiar tone.

Instinctively, Jenna stood and acknowledged
the stranger.
 
He had light brown
hair, green eyes, and impeccably white teeth.

“Hi,” Jenna smiled.
 
“Do I know you?”

In an instant, the interloper thrust an
envelope at Jenna’s chest.
 
She
grasped it before it fell to the ground.

The man hissed at Jenna, “No, but I know you.
 
Dr. Jenna Reiner, you’ve just been
served.”

Before Jenna could articulate a response,
the man turned his back and stormed out of the lobby.
 
Jenna was left standing alone while
strangers milled around her.
 
She
compelled herself to look at the envelope.
 
It was from Silverstein, Howell, and Anders, P.C.
 
The guillotine had dropped.
 

Jenna bolted to her car and hopped in.
 
Petrified, she ripped open yet another
unwelcome letter.
 
Jenna held it in
her trembling hands, but she could not force herself to remove its toxic
contents.
 
Instead, she dialed Randy
Stevens.
 
His secretary put Jenna
through without delay.

“Hello, this is Randy Stevens,” he said with
the same kindheartedness that he had extended to her one week earlier.

“Randy, it’s Jenna
Reiner.
 
I just got served a letter
today from that attorney’s office.”

“Oh,” said Randy, with a new tone of
seriousness.
 
“Can you read it to
me?”

“I haven’t even read it myself.”
 

Jenna pulled the letter from the envelope,
unfolded it, and read the words that she had been dreading for months.

“Dr. Reiner: This letter
is to inform you that your patient, Michelle Hollings, has retained our
services and seeks damages against you.
 
While under your care on January 20, 2010, Ms. Hollings contracted
hepatitis C.
 
Her blood has
undergone genetic typing to determine the DNA sequence of her hepatitis C
virus.
 
It demonstrates 99.98%
relatedness to that of Hillary Martin’s viral genotype.

“Had you not
demonstrated recklessness and carelessness in securing your narcotics, Hillary
Martin would certainly never have had the opportunity to contaminate a syringe
intended for Ms. Hollings.
 
Also,
you failed to detect that the syringe had been tampered with and, instead,
heedlessly injected the virus into Ms. Hollings’ bloodstream during her
anesthetic.
 
You have direct
culpability in her unfortunate contraction of this devastating disease.”

Jenna was left
breathless.
 
“It’s signed by Allison
Anders.”

Unimaginable pain welled
up inside Jenna.
 
The horrendous
allegations became her reality, and her grace period had come to an end.
 
For several minutes, Jenna was
speechless.
 
She sat in the driver’s
seat, clutching the wrinkled letter.
 
Randy could hear Jenna’s irregular breathing over the phone.
 
He did not interrupt the silence.
 
Instead, he patiently gave Jenna time to
pull herself together.
 

Finally, Jenna cried out
with guilt and shame that she had never felt before.
 
“The letter says
I
gave her the virus.
 
I
pushed the virus into her bloodstream,
and it’s
my
fault.
 
If it hadn’t been for
my
recklessness and
my
actions, the patient wouldn’t be infected.”
 

For the past week, Jenna
had secretly worried that she was the one who ultimately injected the virus
into Michelle Hollings’ bloodstream.
 
Jenna’s anguish that she may have hurt one of her patients, even
unintentionally, weighed heavily upon her conscience.
 
To see her inner fears printed and articulated
by a stranger cut her to the core.
 

Jenna whispered, as much
to Randy as to herself, “It’s my fault.”

“No, Jenna,” said Randy
sternly.
 
“It is most definitely
not
your fault.
 
You weren’t the drug abuser.
 
You weren’t the thief.
 
You are just as much a victim as the
patient.
 
You were preyed upon and
taken advantage of by a criminal.
 
This event is unprecedented.
 
There was absolutely no way you could have seen it coming.”

All Randy could hear on
the other end were muffled sobs.
 

“Jenna, are you
listening to what I’m saying?”

“Sort of.”
 

Randy sounded distant,
jumbled, and foreign.
 
Overcome with
humiliation, remorse, and profound sadness, Jenna also felt tainted.
 
She had been branded a villain, and
there was no going back.
 
Jenna
figured it was only a matter of time before the whole world knew the extent of
her incompetence and the ugliness of her actions.

Relentless in his
approach, Randy continued to pummel her with logic.

“You have to understand
that their claim of a ninety-nine percent DNA match to Hillary Martin’s virus
is just that – it’s a claim.
 
It may or may not be true, but at this point in the game they haven’t
provided any evidence to back it up.
 
Their words are designed to intimidate and scare you.
 
I will have to admit that this letter is
particularly nasty, but remember they are only words.
 
It’s no more than kids on a playground
taunting each other.
 
Do you
understand?”

Jenna did not answer his
question.
 
Instead, she asked
sorrowfully, “What do doctors do if they aren’t doctors anymore?”
 

“What do you mean?”
asked Randy, deeply troubled by Jenna’s tone.
 

“I mean, what if this
destroys my career and my reputation?
 
What if this destroys
me
?”

Jenna was suffocating in
misery.
 
Her darkest fears poured
from her mouth.
 

“What if no one wants to
work with me anymore?
 
Once these lawyers
are through with me, what am I going to be left with?
 
My colleagues will shun me.
 
They will condemn my actions.
 
Patients may recognize my name and
refuse to allow me to be their doctor.
 
Things will never be the same.
 
All the years, all the pain, all the hard work . . . it will be
meaningless.

“Other doctors that have
been through lawsuits – have any of them just decided it’s not worth it
anymore and dropped out of medicine?
 
There must be some that have thrown in the towel.
 
What do those doctors do?”

Randy thought carefully
about how to respond.
 
It was
unusual for a physician to come to terms with what a malpractice suit could do
to their career so early in the litigation process.
 
Jenna Reiner was either very prophetic
or extremely pessimistic.
 
Either
way, her insights had Randy deeply concerned.

He finally said, “Most
physicians don’t leave medicine.
 
Honestly,
I hate to say it, but there really aren’t many good options.
 
If you didn’t stay in medicine, you
would have to completely start over doing something else.”

“That’s what I was afraid you’d say,” said
Jenna hopelessly.
 
“So, what’s
next?”
 

“I will contact Jim Taylor, who will be your
local attorney.
 
I’m sure he will
call you tonight and will probably want to meet with you tomorrow.
 
Give the letter to Jim when you
meet.
 
He will forward a copy to
me.
 
I’ll be in touch.”

“Okay,” Jenna said flatly.
 
Hanging up the phone, she felt numb and
empty.

Jenna started her car and sobbed all the way
to Mia’s school.
 
She did not call
Tom to tell him she was on her way.
 
Jenna was incapable of speaking, so there did not seem to be any point.

When Mia saw Jenna’s SUV waiting for her
outside the schoolhouse, her face lit up.
 
Mia bolted to the car, flung open the passenger door, and immediately
asked Jenna, “Hi, Mom.
 
Can we go
get ice cream?”
 
It was their ritual
whenever Jenna got off early enough to get Mia from school.
 

Mia’s grin disappeared when Jenna turned her
head to face her daughter.
 
Jenna’s
eyes were swollen, and her face looked tired and sad.
 
As Jenna sat in the driver’s seat,
strapped down by her seat belt, Mia saw in her mother’s face the same look the
tigers had in the zoo exhibit – broken and trapped.

Mia had never seen her mother in such a
state.
 
The little girl sprang over
the console and hugged Jenna tightly.