Authors: Larry D. Thompson
The campaign was launched within twenty-four hours. Drug representatives had already been supplied with free samples and started leaving them with physicians all over the country. In turn, the physicians gave them to patients in place of other antibiotics.
Network medical editors were provided with briefing books and summaries of the studies. Always looking for ways to get more face time in front of the cameras, they were eager to talk about the new wonder drug.
A reader couldn’t open
Time, Newsweek, Sports Illustrated,
or a major newspaper without being confronted with a full-page, multicolor ad with bold print touting the benefits of Exxacia. Six-point type at the bottom of the page that would require a magnifying glass outlined warnings of potential adverse consequences.
Ceventa bought time on all the major networks and cable outlets to run a commercial that featured an actor who had played a successful doctor on a long-running hospital drama. He was shown standing by a patient’s bed, stethoscope around his neck. As the camera zoomed in, he turned and said, “As you know, I’m not a real doctor. If I were, I know exactly the drug I would be recommending to my patients with certain bacterial infections. It’s Exxacia. The next time you have a sinus problem, bronchitis, or even pneumonia, ask your doctor about Exxacia. You won’t be disappointed.” The camera then backed away as the actor turned to place his stethoscope on the chest of the make-believe patient.
At the end of the month Ceventa released data on the remarkable sales of Exxacia, which were far greater than predicted by analysts. Overnight Ceventa stock rose 10 percent.
Kingsbury leaned back in his office chair and thumbed through the
Wall Street Journal
until he found the article. He read with satisfaction the analyst’s assessment of Ceventa and the impact Exxacia would have on its stock price over the next two years. Finally, he thought, after all of the obstacles he had to overcome, he was seeing the results of his plan. Not as soon as he had originally expected, but better late than never, he surmised.
His eye caught the date of the newspaper, and he realized he had a minor problem. He turned to his computer contact information and pulled up the florist he used for special events. When a female voice answered, he said, “Morning. This is Alfred Kingsbury. I have a personal account with you.”
“Yes, of course, Dr. Kingsbury. How can we be of assistance?”
“I just realized that my granddaughter’s school play is in three days. I want to order two dozen Sterling Silver roses, you know, the light purple ones, delivered to her house day after tomorrow.”
“We can certainly do that, Dr. Kingsbury,” the florist replied. “But, we don’t keep those in stock. They’ll probably have to be shipped from France. On short notice, that will be quite expensive. We’ve got some beautiful red roses in stock.”
“Don’t worry about the expense,” Kingsbury said as he glanced at the headline in the paper. “I can afford them and the overnight charge. Put on the card, ‘To Kelley. Break a leg. Love, Grandpa.’”
Luke opened Samantha’s door to find her sleeping with all of her covers thrown off. Cocoa was beside her. He walked to her side and felt her forehead.
Samantha stirred. “What is it, Dad?”
“I think you’re running a little fever. It’s time to get up. I want to get you over to Dr. Hartman.”
“Can’t I just sleep a little more?”
“Sam, you’ve been asleep fifteen hours. You can go back to bed after you see the doctor.”
Samantha slowly sat up, and Luke looked into her eyes. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t like what he saw.
They got in the car to make the five-minute drive to Dr. Hartman’s office. Samantha dozed off before they got there. Once inside, Luke told the receptionist that Dr. Hartman was expecting his daughter. In a few minutes the nurse led them back to a treatment room, where the doctor greeted them.
Dr. Hartman was a large man with a mane of white hair complemented by a bushy white mustache. He had graduated from Baylor College of Medicine in Houston and probably could have stayed as a faculty member. Instead, he moved to San Marcos. As he put it, he wanted to be in a town where he knew his patients and would see them at church or the grocery store, not just when they were sick.
“Good morning, Luke. Sam, I hear you’re a little under the weather.”
“I think I’ve just got the flu or something.”
“Okay, let’s see. Put this thermometer in your mouth.” He took it out when it beeped and glanced at the reading. “You’ve got a little fever, about one hundred and one. Let me look in your eyes. Look at this light. Yep, your eyes are yellow.” Next he wrapped a cuff on her right arm and pumped it up, listening with his stethoscope. “Blood pressure is good. Lie back, please.” Dr. Hartman listened to Samantha’s heart and lungs. Then he pressed on her abdomen. Samantha grimaced when he did so. “That hurt a little?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sam, I’m going to draw some blood from your arm. You’ll feel a little prick, that’s all. Then I want you to take this little cup and go to the restroom, where I want you to leave me a urine sample.”
As Samantha left the room, Luke asked, “What’s happening, Clyde?”
“Something’s going on with her liver. She ever had a problem with gallstones?”
“Never.”
“If she doesn’t have a stone in her common duct, she’s most likely got some form of hepatitis. I’ll get the blood and urine off to the lab this afternoon. I’m not sending her to the hospital for an ultrasound until we see those results. Bring her back day after tomorrow. I could talk to you on the phone, but I’d like to have another look at her.”
Luke nodded.
Two days later Luke and Samantha were seated across the desk from Dr. Hartman. “All the test results are back. As I suspected, the liver function tests are elevated. The tests for hepatitis A, B, and C are negative. That leaves us with a hepatitis that is probably drug induced.”
Luke was upset but tried to hide his concern with a poker face. Samantha wasn’t sure what Dr. Hartman was saying.
“Sam, your liver is not working right.”
“You can fix it, right, Dr. Hartman?”
“Probably, Sam, but I need to ask you some questions. Have you used any street drugs?”
That got Samantha’s attention, and she sat up in her chair. “Absolutely not.”
“How about alcohol? Do you drink much?”
“I used to drink about as much as most college students, but I quit last summer. My boyfriend didn’t like to see me drunk.”
The doctor thought for a minute. “How about any prescription drugs?”
“No, sir. I haven’t been sick in two years.”
“Herbs? Sometimes college students experiment with exotic herbs.”
“Not me. Can we go back to the prescription drugs? I forgot something. See, there was this ad on the bulletin board in the English Building. This doctor was looking for volunteers for some drug study. He paid me a hundred and fifty dollars, and I took some pills for a few days.”
“You never told me about that,” Luke interjected.
“Sorry, Dad. It didn’t seem like a big deal. He said that it was perfectly safe.”
“What’s this doctor’s name?” Luke asked, his voice becoming louder.
“I don’t know, Dad. He was in that little strip center across from campus. He has an office between the liquor store and a stop-and-rob.”
“I know him, Luke. His name is Challa. He’s from India originally. He’s not much of a doctor. Sam, did he tell you the name of the drug or what it was for?”
Samantha thought for a minute. “He wouldn’t tell me the name of the drug. He did say it was an antibiotic. He asked me if I had a sinus infection. I told him no, but he gave me the pills anyway.”
“When was that, Sam?” Dr. Hartman asked.
“I don’t know. Probably four or five months ago.”
That rang a bell with Dr. Hartman. “Ah, yes. I think I remember getting something from one of the drug companies, inviting me to participate in a clinical trial. I threw it in the trash. I refuse to take anything from them, not even prescription pads or pens. We need their products, but like most giant companies, they’re really in it for the money.”
He turned to Luke. “As I recall, Sam’s right. That trial was about some new antibiotic. Luke, one of the very rare but known risks of antibiotics is that they can cause problems with the liver. My best guess is she’s got a reaction to whatever Dr. Challa gave her.”
Luke stood and looked at the books on the shelves behind Dr. Hartman as if he were expecting to find a cure. “What do we do now?”
“Luke, I wish there was a magic potion, but there’s not. You need to keep her home on bed rest as much as possible. Keep plenty of fluids in her. No alcohol and no pain killer with acetaminophen—Tylenol, for example—understand? Both can cause problems with the liver.”
“But what about school?” Samantha asked.
“Sorry, Sam. You’re out of classes for a while, hopefully only a couple of weeks. Your dad can probably arrange with your professors to get your assignments, only right now rest is the most important thing. Luke, I want to see her again in two weeks, sooner if you think she’s getting worse.”
Luke helped Samantha up the stairs and into her bed. Then he went to the kitchen and got her two bottles of cold water and a bowl of cereal with milk.
“Sam, I know you’re not hungry, but I want you to eat as much of this cereal as you can. You’ve got to get some nourishment. Then I want you to drink this water, again as much as you can.”
“Can I call Brad?”
“Sure. He can even come over. You’re not contagious. I don’t want him staying long, though. I’m going out for a little while. I should be back in an hour. Call me on my cell if you need something.”
“You going to see a client?”
“No, Sam. I’m going to pay a call on Dr. Challa. I’m going to find out what he gave you.”
Luke turned into the strip center and parked in front of Dr. Challa’s office. He sized up the surroundings and couldn’t imagine anyone walking through that door hoping to be made well. He got out of the car and walked to the door only to find it locked. He knocked loudly and waited. When nothing happened, he knocked again, this time even louder. Still nothing. Then he shouted Dr. Challa’s name. A sound came from within, like a door opening and shutting. Then a small, dark-skinned man in a white coat opened the front door.
“Dr. Challa!”
“I am Dr. Challa,” the man spoke in a quiet voice. “Please come in. How can I help you?”
“Doctor, my name is Luke Vaughan. Were you involved in a clinical trial for a new drug a few months ago?”
“That is correct. It was all very legal.”
Luke looked around the shabby reception room, which was deserted, as usual. “My daughter is Samantha Vaughan. She says she was one of the patients in your trial.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Vaughan, but I don’t remember her. I didn’t really know most of the participants in that trial. Most of them were not my regular patients. And would you mind keeping your voice down?”
“Yes, I damn sure do mind, Dr. Challa. Do you have a list of the people who were in the trial?”
“Of course, but I’m a confidential investigator. I’m not at liberty to disclose anything about the trial. I signed a contract with the drug company.”
Luke backed Challa up against the wall and grabbed the lapels of his coat, lifting him off the ground. “Look, you little pill pusher, either you get that list or I’ll go back to your office and find it myself.”
“Mr. Vaughan, let me down or I’m calling the police.”
Luke took a deep breath and backed away. His tone changed. “Dr. Challa, my daughter, Samantha, has hepatitis, which probably came from that drug. I need your help.”
Dr. Challa stared at Luke. “I don’t believe that any drug I prescribed would do that. Still, let me check.”
Challa went to the back and returned with a list. “Yes, your daughter was one of the subjects.”
“What’s the name of the drug?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Vaughan, I signed a confidentiality agreement. I refuse to tell you the name of the drug or the name of the pharmaceutical company. Besides, the drugs were not marked. So even if I told you the name of the drug being evaluated, we wouldn’t know if she got it or the benchmark drug.”
“Damn it, she’s got drug-induced hepatitis. I need to know the name of the drug!”
“I’ve told you all that I can, sir. Now you must leave.”
“I’ll leave, but you damn well better hope that Samantha recovers. Otherwise, you’ll wish you never met me!”
Luke heard the sound of the Harley before he saw it. Then Whizmo turned into the driveway and parked in front of his apartment. The back door opened and closed, and Whizmo appeared at the office with a backpack.
“I’ve got Sam’s assignments for the next two weeks, and I went by her apartment to pick up her computer and textbooks. Her roommates are worried.”
Luke looked up from his desk with dark circles under his eyes. “They’re not alone.”
“Yeah, I can tell you haven’t been sleeping much. I thought people usually got over hepatitis.”
“I would have thought so, too. I’ve been researching on the Internet. If this were type A, I’d feel a lot better, but she got this from some pill that damn doctor gave her. She spends most of her time in her room asleep. I go up there every couple of hours to check on her. If I find her water bottle full, I wake her and make her drink at least half of it. I’m trying to keep soups in her and even made spaghetti last night, probably her favorite food in the world. She picked at a few bites and said she wasn’t hungry.”
“Can I go up to say hello?”
“Of course. Try to get her to drink some water.”
Whizmo climbed the stairs and knocked quietly before he entered. Cocoa barked a greeting. Samantha opened her eyes, expecting to see Luke. When she saw Whizmo, she pushed herself up to a sitting position. “Hi there, Professor Whizmo. Sorry I’m having to miss your class.”
Whizmo walked over to the bed and sat on the side of it. “No problem, sweetie. Here, drink some of this water.” He opened an untouched bottle on her nightstand and handed it to her.
“You must have been talking to my dad. Every time he comes in here he does the same thing.”
“I confess,” Whizmo said, smiling. “It’s important that you drink lots of water, even if you don’t want to.”
Samantha nodded and took a few sips. “Hey, Whizmo, how much longer are you going to live behind us?”
“I don’t know, kid. You trying to get rid of me?”
“You know better than that. I just figured you’d stay a year or so and then buy another house.”
Whizmo stood to look out on the apartment. “I’ve thought about it, sweetie. Only, you know, I like it here. It’s all the space I need. By now you and Luke have become like family. I’ll probably just stick around until you throw me out.”
Samantha managed a grin. “I’d like that.” Then her eyes shut and she was asleep.