It's Nothing Personal (26 page)

“I usually Google a topic and then browse
through the search results, so it varies.”

“Do you read newspapers?”

Jenna was perplexed as to what that had to
do with anything.
 
“I peruse the
news websites, if that’s what you mean.”

“Are you aware of any stories where nurses,
doctors, or other health-care workers have drug-addiction issues and have
diverted drugs at hospitals?”

Jenna promptly understood the objective
behind Allison’s media question.
 
Taking a second to collect her thoughts, she proceeded with
vigilance.
 

“I think everybody in the health-care field
has heard stories about people stealing drugs.
 
It’s pretty much urban legend.
 
That being said, I have never heard
stories about people stealing drugs and doing what Hillary Martin allegedly
did.
 
Before this story broke, I
would never have conceived that someone would have stolen drugs, replaced them
with contaminated syringes, and ultimately infected patients.”

“Do you feel like you have a duty to prevent
the diversion of narcotics?”

Not a question that Jenna had anticipated,
she was unsure how to respond.
 
She
sensed the word “duty” was a snare.
 
Although her palms were becoming damp, she did not dare wipe them dry.
 
Swallowing hard, Jenna answered, “No, I
don’t feel that I have a duty to prevent diversion of narcotics.”

Allison responded with a scornful tone.
 
“You don’t feel as if you have any duty,
any responsibility whatsoever, to make sure someone doesn’t steal your drugs?”

The room was soundless and the air heavy as
all eyes bore down on Jenna.

She responded with composure and grace.
 
“My
duty
is to provide anesthesia care for my patients.
 
I have a duty to be prepared for and
handle intraoperative and perioperative events, whether the events are
anticipated or emergent.
 
My duty,
my focus, and my responsibilities revolve around patient care.
 
Just as it is not my duty, or my
designated role, to mop the floors, it is also not my duty to be focused on the
prevention of drug diversion.”

“Doctor, are you aware that St. Augustine
Hospital reported they had ten separate incidents of narcotic theft in the
twelve months prior to January 2010?”

“No,” replied Jenna, expressionless.

Allison called up a document on her
laptop.
 
Reading from the screen,
she asked, “Are you aware that one of these thefts involved the diversion of
fifteen syringes of Fentanyl by a floor nurse?
 
Another theft involved twenty tablets of
Oxycontin that were taken from the top of a medication cart.
 
In yet another case, a staff member from
St. Augustine was found in a break room of the hospital with several vials of Fentanyl
in front of her and several more confiscated from her locker.
 
Were you aware of any of these
diversions?”

“No.”

“Do you think you should just remain in the
dark when it comes to diversions at your hospital?
 
Does that absolve you from the
responsibility to assist in preventing future diversions?
 
You see no evil, so you expect no
evil.
 
Is that how you operate?”

Nancy interjected, “Object to form.”

Jenna shifted in her chair.
 
The skin on the back of her legs peeled
away from the leather as Jenna crossed them.

“I don’t see myself as remaining in the
dark, so I can’t answer your question if it’s based upon that premise.”

Allison’s tone was becoming steadily more
insulting.
 
She furrowed her brow
and said, “You told me a few minutes ago that, in your wildest dreams, you
could never think that someone would divert Fentanyl and substitute it with a
syringe containing saline.
 
Isn’t
that true?”

Nancy objected, “Objection, misstates her
testimony.”

Jenna jumped on Nancy’s lead.
 
“That is
not
what I said.
 
I
stated that before Hillary Martin and this ordeal came to light, I would never
have imagined, based on my previous knowledge and experience, that someone
would do something so sinister.
 
I
would never have thought that a member of the OR staff would have been so evil
as to steal a syringe intended for a patient and replace it with a contaminated
syringe, knowing that the contaminated syringe would then be used on a
patient.
 
There is a big difference
between substituting a syringe for one containing sterile saline and one
contaminated with hepatitis C.”

“Doctor, are you aware there is an
anesthesia journal published by the American Society of Anesthesiologists?”

The way she said “Doctor” made Jenna’s skin
crawl.
 
It sounded like an
accusation, like Jenna was an imposter.

“To which journal, specifically, are you
referring?
 
There are several.”

Allison’s voice became tense.
 
“It’s called ‘Anesthesiology.’”

Recognizing the testiness in her rival,
Jenna responded unpretentiously, “Yes, I’m aware of it.”
 

Jenna straightened her posture and folded
her hands in her lap.
 
Every muscle
in her neck and shoulders was tight.
 
She longed to crack her neck and relieve some of the tension, but she resisted
the urge.

“Do you receive the journal?”

“No,” replied Jenna.
 

“
You
don’t?
 
I would think as a
member of the American Society of Anesthesiologists, you would receive that
publication just like every other member.”

For a fraction of an instant, Jenna shifted
her gaze downward.
 
“I’m not a
member of the ASA.”

“You’re a practicing anesthesiologist, and
you’re not a member of your professional society?”

Heat rose up Jenna’s neck, as she explained,
“No, I’m not.
 
My husband is cheap,
and the dues are expensive.
 
It
never seemed necessary.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Jenna saw
Nancy grin at her answer.

“Are you aware,” Allison continued,
undeterred, “that in 2008, there was an article titled
 
‘Addiction and Substance Abuse in
Anesthesiology’ published by the ASA?
 
In that article, they state that the power of the disease of addiction
and the need for the drug is so overwhelmingly strong, that otherwise
reasonable and intelligent people will resort to seemingly incredulous behavior
in order to obtain their drug of choice.
 
Would you agree with that statement?”

Jenna stalled before answering, reminding
herself of the ground rules of this game.
 

“I wouldn’t agree or disagree.
 
I would need to read the article in its
entirety and take time to think about it.”

Allison appeared unfazed.
 
“The article also says that addicts may
substitute a syringe containing their drug of choice for one containing saline
or a mixture of Lidocaine and Esmolol during a relief break.
 
Have you ever heard that before?”

“No,” said Jenna.
 
“And I’d like to take a break.”

CHAPTER 37

The threesome strode outside on to the front
steps of the building.
 
Jenna drew
in a deep breath of the summer air.
 
She felt like she were being released from jail and tasting freedom for
the first time in years.
 
Jim sensed
her discontent.
 
Standing in front
of his client, he placed his arms on her shoulders and grinned.

Jenna, perplexed by Jim’s expression, stood
still.

Jim exclaimed, “Jenna, you are doing
great!
 
I hope you don’t take this
the wrong way, but it’s actually been fun to watch.
 
I have never seen anyone get under
Allison Anders’ skin before.
 
Never
.
 
You heeded our advice, and it
shows.
 
My guess is we’re headed for
the home stretch, so keep up your focus just a little while longer.
 
I’m being completely honest when I tell
you that you are doing better than any of your colleagues have done against
Allison.”

Jenna shifted her focus to Nancy.
 
With her arms folded across her chest,
she asked, “What do you think?
 
And
don’t
lie to me.”

Nancy chuckled, “I wouldn’t lie to you, it’s
not my style.
 
Not even to protect
your feelings.
 
Everything Jim said
is true, especially the part about it being fun to watch.”

Jenna wrinkled her forehead.
 
Unconvinced, she confessed, “I can feel
myself getting snippy with her.
 
And
even though I know it’s unwise, I have to admit that I can’t help messing with
her when I get the chance.
 
I’m
trying to keep it as subtle as possible, but every little dig helps to keep me
going.”

Nancy replied with kindness, “Jenna, I think
your version of a dig differs radically from what people like Allison Anders
might think.
 
Yes, I can see you
pausing before each question, but not excessively, and it’s keeping you
focused.
 
It’s also pissing her off,
which is great.
 
What you are doing
is not out of line.
 
The little jabs
you have gotten in on her have been pulled off with innocence and poise.
 
In fact, most times it has taken Allison
several moments to realize she’s been hit.
 
Keep doing what you’ve been doing all day.
 
We’re almost there.”

Jenna nodded.
 
Knowing the break was over, she pulled
in one last breath of fresh air and followed Jim and Nancy back into the
building.
 
Jenna prayed this would
be the last time the three of them made the death march back to the enemy’s
chambers.

In the conference room, Allison was already
seated and impatiently tapping her pen on the table.
 

Jim and Nancy entered the conference room
through the front door and quickly took their seats.
 
Nancy explained Jenna’s absence, “Dr.
Reiner is using the restroom and will be here shortly.”

Moments later, Jenna entered through the
back door.
 
No one seemed to notice
her presence.
 
Jim and Nancy were huddled
over Jim’s laptop, and Allison was sorting through a stack of documents.

Standing behind the cameraman, Jenna poured
herself a glass of water.
 
The sound
of fluid striking the glass filled the room.
 
The cameraman looked at Allison as he
repugnantly said, “Well, I hope that’s not her behind me, urinating on the
floor.”
 
He snorted at his own
joke.
 
Allison worked to suppress a
grin.

Jenna returned to her seat and slammed her glass
down on the table, creating a thud that caught Allison’s attention.
 
Water sloshed over onto the
tabletop.
 
Allison peered down at
the mess, wrinkling her nose at the small puddle.
 
Jenna refused to wipe it up.
 

The entire room had heard the remark, but
nobody acknowledged it.
 
Jenna
glared at the brash man seated behind the camera, refusing to take her eyes off
of him.
 
For a few minutes, he returned
Jenna’s stare, but then he grew uncomfortable and looked away.

Pretending to adjust his equipment, the man
announced, “Time is now 3:10 p.m., and we are back on record.”
 
The red light clicked on, signaling that
combat was to recommence.

Allison stopped tapping her pen and held it
to her mouth.
 

“In January 2010, at St. Augustine hospital,
was there a mechanism to lock up your drugs?”

“No.”

“Do you think that you had any reason to
foresee that there would be a healthcare worker diverting drugs in the OR?”

Jenna had tired of Allison’s questions.
 
While Jenna considered her response, she
briefly allowed her mind to wander.
 
Jenna envisioned Allison as a blonde-haired dragon, constantly
encircling Jenna, and snorting flames at her.
 
All Jenna could do was continue to jump
out of the fire’s path.
 
She was
growing weak, however, and the flames were getting dangerously close.

Allison jostled Jenna back to the task at
hand.
 
“Doctor, please answer the
question.”

Jenna refocused.
 
“I don’t think I can answer that.
 
I don’t know what other people’s
motivations are.
 
I do know, based
on my experience, that I trusted my OR staff.
 
Prior to this unprecedented event, I had
no reason not to trust them.
 
I
fully expected that St. Augustine would hire quality people, and I had no
reason to question that belief.
 
I
can’t foresee whether or not someone would commit a crime any more than I could
foresee what you’re going to eat for dinner.”

“So what you’re telling me is that you had
no worry, no concern, that any of the nurses or other people that you worked
with would ever divert drugs?
 
You
could never have imagined such a thing?”