It's Nothing Personal (27 page)

Nancy interrupted, “Objection, form,
misstates.”

Jenna replied with conviction, “I don’t
agree with your statement.
 
I never
said that.”

Allison blasted back, “So then, would you agree
that it would be foreseeable that health-care workers, including scrub techs,
may divert controlled substances?”

Nancy again said, “Objection, form,
misstates.”

“I don’t agree with that, either.”
 

It was a battle of wills.
 
Jenna fully recognized that Allison
desperately wanted to put condemning words in her mouth, and Jenna was
determined to keep it from happening.

Allison slapped her palm on the table.
 
Surprised by the action, Jenna caught
her breath.

“So you don’t agree with that, either?
 
Which is it, Doctor?
 
How foreseeable is it that a nurse or
scrub tech would divert controlled substances in a hospital setting?”

The room was focused on Jenna.
 
She did not blink once as she replied,
“In January, 2010, I don’t think the actions of Hillary Martin were at all
foreseeable.”

Allison stood and rested her hands on the
edge of the table, towering over Jenna.
 
With malice, she asked, “Are you aware that if a judge and jury
determine your failure to lock and secure controlled substances was willful and
wanton conduct, they could award for punitive damages?”

Jenna silently thanked her lawyers for
preparing her for this topic.
 
Although she had been forewarned, she decided to feign ignorance.
 

With bright, wide eyes, Jenna replied, “I’m
not a legal expert.
 
In fact, I
understand law about as well as you understand medicine.
 
I don’t know a whole lot about punitive
damages.”

Allison harrumphed.
 
Jenna had not intended to become
confrontational, but the words slipped out.
 
Secretly, she did not regret it.
 
Especially when she looked over and saw
the cameraman roll his eyes at her comment.
  
After enduring hours of verbal
assaults, sarcasm, and scrutiny, this one little comment vindicated Jenna.

Acting as if nothing had happened, Jenna
waited patiently for the next question.

Allison remained standing.
 
“Just to enlighten you, punitive damages
are not covered by your insurance policy.”

Jenna deeply wanted to enlighten Allison
Anders that humans aren’t supposed to be cannibals.
 
Instead, she refrained from responding
and stared blankly at her nemesis.

Allison sat down and pulled a document from
a stack of papers in front of her.

“Looking at your anesthesia record for Ms.
Hollings, which you have in the papers in front of you, would you agree that
her vital signs and response to the initial dose of Fentanyl are consistent
with her receiving saline and not Fentanyl?”

Jenna made a display of rifling through the
stack, painstakingly searching through each page.
 
Meanwhile, Allison gritted her teeth.

After several minutes, Jenna had the record
in front of her.
 
She raised her
head and replied with conviction, “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Because her vital signs show a completely
normal response to the induction of anesthesia.
 
Both her heart rate and blood pressure
drop.”

“Would you agree that the fact that she
required additional narcotic, in the form of Morphine, is evidence that the
initial dose of Fentanyl was, in fact, saline?”

Jenna spoke slowly, enunciating every
syllable, “Ab-so-lute-ly not.”

“And again, I ask you, why not?”

“Because if you look at what she received in
total, it demonstrates that, for whatever reason, Ms. Hollings had a tolerance
to the effects of narcotics.
 
If she
didn’t have tolerance, 10 milligrams of Morphine should have been more than
sufficient to carry her through the entire procedure, with or without the initial
dose of Fentanyl.
 
The fact that she
required a total dose of 15 milligrams of Morphine, which is substantial,
proves nothing more than Ms. Hollings requires more narcotic than the average
person.”

“Yes, but it’s also consistent with the fact
that Michelle Hollings did not receive 250 micrograms of Fentanyl, but instead
received saline.
 
Wouldn’t you agree
that this could also possibly explain her need for additional narcotics?”

“No,” replied Jenna, refusing to fold.

Allison’s back stiffened and she pounded her
fist on the conference table.
 
Her
face was beefy red.
 

“Tell me, Dr. Reiner!
 
Tell me why it’s not consistent with
this anesthesia record, her vital signs, and the drugs you dispensed and
administered.
 
Why is that not
consistent with the possibility that she received saline versus Fentanyl?”

Nancy cried out, “Objection, asked and
answered.”

“No!
 
You’re not answering my questions!” Allison shouted back at Jenna.
 
“You’re saying why it’s not consistent
with . . . or why it’s fine . . . or why it’s patient dependent.
 
My question is, do you have any evidence
to the contrary, looking at this anesthesia record, that Michelle Hollings
received saline rather than Fentanyl?”

Jenna decided to push things.
 
“Can you please repeat the question?”

It was all Jenna could do to refrain from
laughing as she said the words.

Allison’s nostrils flared.
 
“You heard the question, Doctor.”

Jenna replied smoothly, “I need you to
repeat it, please.”

Shaking her copy of the anesthesia record at
Jenna, Allison shouted, “Do you have any evidence to prove that Michelle
Hollings did not receive saline instead of Fentanyl?”

“I don’t see anything in this record that
would support your speculation.”

Allison strained to maintain her
composure.
 
She took a moment to
look up something on her laptop.
 
Jenna figured it was Allison’s way of taking a very necessary time out.

After several minutes, Allison asked Jenna,
“Do you think Hillary Martin is at fault for infecting Michelle Hollings with
hepatitis C?”

Although Jenna hated Hillary Martin for her
crimes and for the lives she had ruined, including her own, Jenna also detected
another trap in this question.
 

She answered carefully, “I honestly don’t
know.
 
I’m not sure if any of us
will ever really know what happened in that operating room.
 
So, without knowing the truth, I can’t
really answer one way or the other.”

“Do you blame St. Augustine Hospital at all
for the fact that Ms. Hollings contracted hepatitis C?”

Again, Jenna repressed her true feelings.
 
“I don’t have enough information right
now to make a decision on that.
 
If
I had all the information, I’d be able to sit down, digest it, and decide where
I stood.”

Allison shot daggers at Jenna.
 
“Dr. Reiner, if you had reasonably
locked the controlled substances that you dispensed for Michelle Hollings, or
waited to dispense them from the Accudose until Ms. Hollings was present in the
operating room, she would not have contracted hepatitis C, correct?”

Jenna sat with perfect posture and returned Allison’s
stare.
 
In a clear voice that
resonated throughout the room, Jenna boldly stated, “Incorrect.
 
I disagree.”

The afternoon was dragging on.
 
Jenna glanced out the window and noticed
the sun starting to descend over the western mountains.
 
She was anxious for this to end.

 
As if a higher power heard her request, Allison
blurted,
 
“No further questions.”

The cameraman grunted, “This concludes the
videotaped deposition of Dr. Jenna Reiner.
 
The time is 4:47 p.m. on this 24
^th
day of June, 2011.”

Jenna grabbed her purse and left without
saying a word.
 
Jim and Nancy
lingered to discuss some issues with Allison Anders.
 
Jenna was not about to wait for them.
 
She knew she would meet them outside.
 
Marching proudly to the elevators, Jenna
stepped in alone.
 
Once the doors
closed, Jenna lifted her middle finger to the savagery she was escaping.
 

CHAPTER 38

Jenna bolted from the building.
 
After being held prisoner in an
artificially lit conference room for hours, the late afternoon sun blinded
her.
 
She put on her sunglasses and
waited for her lawyers.
 
The buzz of
the Friday afternoon traffic on the nearby highway made her long to be on the
road, heading home.
 
Reaching into
her purse, she pulled out her phone.
 

There was a text message from Tom.
 
“What do you want to do for dinner?”

Jenna quickly texted back, “DRINK!” and
silenced the phone.

Sitting on the hard, dirty concrete steps,
Jenna stretched her legs out in front of her, tilted her head back toward the
blue sky, and closed her eyes.
 
She
was completely worn-out.
 
Lost in
thought, Jenna jumped when she felt Jim gently tap her shoulder.
 
She turned her head toward her
attorneys.

“Let us walk you to your car,” said
Jim.
 
“We can talk along the way.”

It was evident to Jenna that Jim wanted to
get beyond both earshot and eyeshot of Allison Anders.
 
Hastily, Jenna stood, and the three of
them walked along the sidewalk.
 
It
felt like an eternity had passed since she parked along the street that
morning.
 

Once they were away from the building, Jenna
stopped and asked everything she wanted and needed to know with one word, “So?”

Jim and Nancy were beaming.
 
Jenna never imagined either of them
being giddy, but they were.
 
They
both started their praises at the same instant, talking over each other in
short spurts.

“You were great.”

“You surpassed our expectations.”

“You should become an expert witness.
 
You held yourself together so well.”

Then came the most important compliment,
“You won!”

Jenna looked at them in disbelief.
 
“Really?
 
I’m sure I must have messed up
somewhere.”

Jim, the more solemn and reserved of her two
attorneys, said with absolute conviction, “If you messed up somewhere, I’d tell
you.
 
Of course, when we get a copy
of the transcript, we’ll go through it and maybe catch a flaw or two.
 
But being witness to things today, I
think you did great!
 
If we go to
trial, and I hope we do, I think you are going to make a phenomenal
witness.
 
What about you, Jenna?
 
How do
you
feel right now?”

“I’m relieved it’s over.
 
I feel a hell of a lot better than I
expected I would.
 
I’ll tell you one
thing.
 
If anyone tries to tell me
this isn’t personal ever again, I think my head will explode.
 
Allison Anders made it very personal
today.
 
Maybe she talks to every
defendant like that, but I will never forget the things she said and the way
she said them.
 
I truly hate
her.
 
You’d have a hard time
convincing me that the feeling wasn’t mutual.
 
There’s no way she could have acted that
way toward me if she felt otherwise.”

Jim rubbed his chin and agreed, “Maybe you’re
right.”

Jenna interrupted, “And another thing . . .
I will
not
settle this case.
 
I’d rather go to court, defend myself,
and lose, than to concede defeat without a fight.
 
I will never bow down to Allison Anders.
 
Ever.”

Suddenly, something occurred to Jenna.
 
“Lyle Silverstein never showed up.
 
Does that mean anything?”

Jim shrugged his shoulders.
 
“You’re the first woman physician to be
deposed.
 
Maybe they thought another
professional female would get to you more than a male.
 
I consider it a lucky break.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jenna agreed, unable to
imagine anyone worse than Allison Anders.

Nancy said, “We’ll be in touch with you
early next week.
 
The next few
months will be filled with more depositions, document gathering, et
cetera.
 
We’ll keep you informed
every step of the way.
 
For now,
you’ve had a long day, and you did great.
 
Go home.
 
Hug your husband
and your little girl.
 
Relax.
 
Have a cocktail.
 
You’ve earned it.”

“Do I have to do those things in that
order?” Jenna joked as she got into her car.

Jim and Nancy stood on the sidewalk and
watched Jenna drive away.
 
Although her
attorneys were genuinely thrilled for the day’s outcome, they knew Jenna’s
newfound momentum would only carry her so far.