It's Nothing Personal (36 page)

“Dr. Phillip Ramano, a local
anesthesiologist, will testify that doctors don’t have a duty to lock up drugs
like Fentanyl.
 
He will serve as an
expert witness in the January trial of Dr. Jenna Reiner.

“Dr. Reiner also maintains that she did not
have that responsibility.
 
According
to court documents, Dr. Reiner considers drug diversions part of ‘urban
legend.’
 
Dr. Reiner is expected to
testify that her practice was reasonable and met the applicable standard of
care.
 
In her deposition, Dr. Reiner
contends that anesthesiologists do not have a duty to prevent diversion of
controlled substances within the OR.”

Jenna could hardly focus on the words
through her tears.

“The defense strategy and expert testimony
by Dr. Ramano contradicts federal guidelines and practices of other
anesthesiologists.
 

“Reiner’s attorneys present an alternative
theory for how patients were infected with hepatitis C.
 
A defense expert will testify the
infections could have come from contaminated saline that Hillary Martin used to
refill stolen syringes.
 
The defense
will argue that if the infection came from the saline, and not from the Fentanyl
syringe used by Dr. Reiner, that would be an intervening cause that would
remove blame from the doctor.”

The article concluded with a message aimed
directly at Jenna.

“There is still the potential for the case
to be settled before trial, but Michelle Hollings is ready to see these issues
aired again in public.

“‘More people need to know what’s going on
in their hospitals.
 
It’s stupid for
the anesthesiologists to say they have no fault whatsoever, when they were the
ones in control of all of it,’ said Hollings, whose hepatitis C counts have
been tamped down by treatments, but will always have a chance of recurring.”

Jenna could not believe the extent of
mischaracterization and slander.
 
The article served as the ultimate checkmate.
 
For Jenna, the threat had been
acknowledged, and the message had been received.

CHAPTER 52

Jenna stumbled past Tom on her way to the
bathroom.
 
Standing in front of the
mirror, she tried to put in her contact lenses.
 
Lifting the lens to her eye, her hand
shook so wildly she was forced to give up.
 
Tom walked in behind his wife, unaware of what he was about to
encounter.
 

“Good morning,” Tom said, smiling
sleepily.
 
He rubbed the stubble on
his chin and snuggled up behind Jenna, kissing her neck.
 
Jenna remained still, paralyzed.
 
Once Tom caught Jenna’s reflection in
the mirror, his heart sank.
 
“What
happened?”

Jenna attempted to answer, but could
not.
 
Her emotional state went
beyond tears, grief, and agony.
 
She
was only able to mutter, “Article.
 
Tribune.
 
So bad
.”

Tom darted off to the office and returned
ten minutes later, looking nearly as ghastly as Jenna.
 
However, whereas Jenna was broken and
devastated, Tom was consumed with fury.
 

Forgetting about their sleeping daughter,
Tom started ranting.
 
“That article
is complete bullshit!
 
It’s so
totally biased, I’m shocked they can get away with publishing it.
 
I’ll bet Anders wrote it herself and
then passed it over to the reporter.
 
Everything in it was taken out of context and manipulated to make you
look like the devil.
 
How can they
print such crap?”

Jenna was oblivious to her husband.
 
Her mind raced in a million
directions.
 
She had cases scheduled to start in ninety minutes.
 
There was no way she could go to
work.
 
She could not let Mia see her
like this.
 
She wanted to die.

“I have to call Katharine Harper.”

Sitting alone on the stairs in the dim
morning light, Jenna dialed Katharine’s cell phone.
 
It was 6:15, and Katharine would
certainly be awake.
 

“Hello,” Katharine Harper answered, sounding
sluggish.

Jenna tried to speak, but only sobs emerged
from her mouth.
 

Unable to identify the voice from the
unintelligible grunts on the other line, Katharine held the phone away from her
ear and read Jenna’s name from caller ID.
 
Jenna sounded so distraught, Katharine feared something catastrophic had
happened to Tom or Mia.

“Jenna?
 
What’s wrong?”

Jenna inhaled and spilled the horrid
details.
 
“Katharine, the Tribune
ran an article on me today.
 
It’s
bad.
 
Really bad.”

Katharine’s throat tightened.

“What am I going to do?” Jenna wailed.
 
“What if a patient sees the article and
recognizes my name?
 
What if my
partners shun me?
 
What if the
surgeons don’t want to work with me?”

Ravaged by guilt, Katharine attempted to
console her friend.

“Listen here, you’re one of the best damn
anesthesiologists around.
 
I don’t
give a rat’s behind about some article in the paper.”

“But Katharine, now everyone will know.”

“Know what?
 
That a drug addict preyed upon you?
 
That you are one of many other doctors
in the same boat?
 
That some
reporter is corrupt?”

Jenna was breathing in ragged gasps, and she
broke into a cold sweat.
 
“They’ll think
I’m worthless, stupid, and incompetent.
 
They’ll think I destroyed my patient’s life.”

Pools of saliva flooded Jenna’s mouth.
 
She could not swallow quickly enough to
keep it down.

“I’ve got to go.”

“Wait . . .” Katharine called out as Jenna hung
up.
 
Sitting alone in her kitchen,
listening to the dial tone, Katharine said, “My God.
 
What did I do?”

**********

Jenna made it to the bathroom just in time
to lift the toilet seat and wretch.
 
She spit the taste of bile into the toilet and wiped her mouth with a
tissue.
 
Her legs wobbled as she
stood to flush the toilet.
 
Staggering into her closet, she did her best to dress herself.
 

“Are you going to be okay?” asked Tom.
 
He sat on the edge of the bathtub,
watching Jenna battle to pull a shirt over her head.

She responded honestly, “No, I’m not.”
 

Jenna glanced at her reflection in the
mirror.
 
Her eyes were bloodshot and
hollow, like her soul had been scooped out of her body, leaving her with
nothing.
 

Before Jenna left for work, she sent emails
to her attorneys.
 
The
correspondence was blunt.
 
“We need
to meet TODAY.
 
I will head over
when done with cases.
 
DO
NOT
PROCEED WITH ANY FURTHER
SETTLEMENT NEGOTIATIONS UNTIL WE TALK!”

“Please take care of Mia,” she said to Tom
as she left the house.
 
Refusing to
let Mia see her in such a state, Jenna forfeited their daily ritual of kissing
goodbye.
 

Miraculously, Jenna arrived at the hospital
without crashing her vehicle.
 
She
had no memory of the drive.
 
In the
parking garage, she circled through several levels until she reached the top.
 
It was deserted.
 
Shutting off the engine, Jenna rested
her head on the leather steering wheel.
 
Clutching her stomach, her eyes overflowed and her shoulders heaved as
misery seeped from Jenna’s pores.
 

Minutes later, another car pulled up and
parked near Jenna.
 
Wiping her face,
she collected her things and walked to the elevator.

Inside the hospital, Jenna crossed the
window-encased bridge on her way to the operating rooms with her head hung
low.
 
Passing a set of chairs and a
table along the wall, Jenna spotted at a pile of copies of the Tribune.
 
Her heart stopped.
 
The headline appeared in the boldest
font of any other text on the cover, “Doc Defies Rules Regarding
Narcotics.”
 

To Jenna, this was clearly as malicious as
it could get.
 

Grabbing a copy of the paper, she ran into
the women’s locker room.
 
It was
empty.
 
Jenna picked up the phone,
bracing one hand in the other in order to steady her fingers, and dialed
Tom.
 
He answered immediately.
 
Jenna’s voice was barely more than a
whisper, broken by gulps for air.
 

“It’s on the front page!”

“What?”

“It’s on the fucking front page of the
Tribune.
 
Top story.
 
Bold print.”

“Oh God, Jenna!
 
I’m so sorry.
 
Are you going to make it through the
day?”

Jenna heard the locker room door creak open.

“I have to.
 
Someone’s coming.
 
I’ve gotta go.”
 

Jenna swiftly hid the paper in her bag and
stepped into a bathroom stall.
 
Sitting on the toilet, she buried her head in her hands hoping to muffle
the sounds of her sobs.
 
Eventually,
her tears ran dry, and Jenna left to prepare for her first case.

To Jenna’s relief, her operating room was
temporarily unoccupied.
 
She entered
and moved glumly to the head of the bed.
 
Jenna stared at the anesthesia machine as if it were a foreign object.
 
A few minutes later, Jody, the
circulating nurse, walked into the operating room.
 
Her arms were loaded with supplies.
 
Jenna glanced up and feebly attempted a
friendly smile.
 

“Hey, Dr. R.
 
What’s shaking?” Jody asked.

Jenna was unable to speak.
 
Tears stung her face as she tossed the
newspaper toward the nurse.
 

Jody grasped the paper and read the first
portion of the article.
 
Shaking her
head in disgust, she dropped the paper on the operating room table and walked
over to Jenna.
 

Putting her arm around Jenna’s shoulder,
Jody asked, “Do you think you should be here?”

Jenna answered bitterly, “No, I don’t.
 
But we are short-staffed today, and
there’s nobody to cover for me.”

Rubbing Jenna’s arm, Jody said, “Well,
somehow we’ll get you through this.
 
I’ll have your back, all day.
 
If you want to talk, we can talk.
 
If you want me to keep the conversation away from you, I’ll do that,
too.”

“Thank you,” said Jenna, grateful for the
kindness.
 
“I don’t want anybody to
talk to me.
 
If you could keep the
conversation on the other side of the drape, that would be great.”

“You got it.”

Before Jenna could face her first patient,
she had one more call to make.
 
Jenna phoned her office manager, Julia.
 

Upon hearing Jenna’s voice, Julia said, “Dr.
Reiner, I’m so sorry.
 
Is there
anything I can do?”

Jenna gulped, amazed at how fast the news of
her tragedy had spread.
  

“Thanks.
 
Look, I know it’s our busy time of year,
but I need the rest of the week off.
 
I shouldn’t even be here today.
 
Can you make that happen?”

“Consider it done.”

CHAPTER 53

Apprehensively, Jenna walked into the
preoperative area to meet her first patient.
 
As her colleagues noticed her presence,
conversations ceased.
 
In the
silence, Jenna felt the enormity of their collective judgment.
 
Marching directly into her first patient’s
room, Jenna pulled the door closed behind her.
 
For a moment, it dawned on her how
disheveled she must look.
 
Her
eyelids were swollen, her nose red, and her hair untamed.
 
The patient, consumed by her own
anxiety, did not appear to notice.
 

Mid-morning, between cases, Katharine Harper
walked into Jenna’s operating room.
 
Jenna fiddled with her equipment, attempting to look busy.
 
Katharine knew better.
 
Jenna was hiding out.
 

“I just read the article,” Katharine said
sadly.

Jenna unleashed.
 
“Now do you see why I am so upset?
 
It’s a bunch of lies, but the people who
read the paper don’t know that.
 
The
article makes me look like some callous, ignorant, reckless bitch!
 
I’ve read the comments posted
online.
 
People I have never met are
calling me lazy, heartless, and negligent.
 
They think I’m a criminal, for Christ’s sake!”