Michael Palmer - The Society

“It’s going to happen,” Will said. “Can you believe it, it’s gonna happen.”

“Thanks to you.”

Patty tightened her grip on his arm and led him over to a spot where they could look out across the lake.

The magnitude and cruelty of Excelsius Health’s perfidy had galvanized physicians in ways that had previously been unimaginable. Almost overnight, chapters of the Hippocrates Society sprang up in cities across the country, and membership swelled. The AMA threw the force of its 260,000 members behind the search for a solution to the crisis. A widely publicized and completely televised congressional hearing uncovered unacceptable business practices on the part of a number of health-care provider companies. Patients and physicians at the hearing were joined on the witness stand by employees of a number of those companies, suddenly anxious to share shortcuts they had encountered that adversely affected patient health. Subsequent to that, a significant number of congressional seats had gone to candidates advocating immediate action on revamping the health-care delivery system toward federal control.

Meanwhile, desperate corporations were quickly restructured. CEOs were replaced. Other officials simply took off, some of them absconding with tens of millions in ill-gotten profits. Sentiment against continuing the status quo in health care grew like a tidal wave. The uninsured middle class became martyrs to the cause of change.

The Society national steering committee, charged with organizing the Chicago conference, had originally planned for ten to fifteen thousand attendees. Twenty-five thousand was beyond anyone’s wildest imagination, but adjustments had been made.

“I really love Chicago,” Patty said dreamily.

“And I really love. . Chicago, too.”

“You know, I hope the day you realize you’re not very funny isn’t too hard on you.”

“Okay, that’s it. I’ve taken enough verbal abuse. If you don’t think I’m funny, then the wedding’s off.”

“You can call it off if you want, but you’re going to have to tell my father.”

“On second thought, I think I’ll opt for the verbal abuse.”

“Wise move.” Patty guided him back toward the convention center. “I just wish your old partner, Susan, could be here with us. She worked so damn hard in the interests of better health for all.”

“Especially for folks like Charles Newcomber.”

“Ah, yes. And let’s not forget all those women from Steadfast Health whom she helped to experience the joys of learning they had cancer and undergoing surgery and chemo. God, but I wish that bullet I fired at her had actually gone where I was aiming.”

She pointed to the center of her chest.

“What goes around, comes around,” Will said. “It ain’t over.”

“I hope not, baby, but take it from a cop, bad guys do get away.”

And Susan Hollister had most certainly vanished.

Even with lawyer Ed Wittenburg’s help, it had taken the state-police chopper most of the day to locate the farm. When they finally did, Susan was gone. There were bullets and bullet holes everywhere, but the bodies of the torturer Krause and Marshall Gold and his man Watkins were gone. The farmer and his wife were questioned extensively and threatened with charges, but neither caved in, and they were ultimately sent back to their farmhouse.

The Excelsius pathologist who had been paid to cooperate with Hollister and Newcomber by labeling cancerous slides with the names of women who were “given” breast cancer agreed to a plea bargain, which helped to send Boyd Halliday to prison, though not nearly for as long as Patty and Will felt he deserved. The pathologist’s statement also led to the indictment in absentia of Hollister. The lawsuits from patients were just beginning, but soon after Halliday’s arrest, Excelsius Health was dissolved. It would be years before the finances of the conglomerate were untangled and settlements awarded. In addition to the individual suits, Augie Micelli was assisting a top Boston law firm in a class action against the former health-care giant.

It was the opening session of the four-day Consortium for Effective National Health-Care Coverage, and the vast convention hall was rapidly filling up for the keynote address, to be delivered by Diana Joswick, a Texas anesthesiologist and the recently elected president of the Hippocrates Society. A banner proclaiming AFFORDABLE HEALTH CARE FOR ALL stretched across the wall behind the dais. The atmosphere was electric. Will had tried to decline the Society’s request that he be seated on the dais with Joswick and other notables, citing his resignation for personal reasons from all but general membership in the organization. In the end, though, for the sake of unity, he demurred. At his request, seats in the center of the third row had been set aside for Patty and Augie Micelli.

“There’s Augie,” Patty exclaimed, pointing.

Will followed her into the row and settled temporarily into an empty seat next to hers. Micelli, much lighter and healthier-looking than he had been the day he first met Will, was beaming.

“This is a bigger happening than frigging Woodstock!” he gushed. “Talk about making a difference. You two have changed the world.”

“Let’s not get carried away, Augie.”

“Who’s getting carried away?”

“You look great,” Patty said. “How many pounds?”

“Nineteen and three-quarters, but who’s counting? It’s amazing what cutting alcohol out of your diet can do for the old waistline.”

“How long has it been?”

“Since I left for rehab? Eight months tomorrow.”

“Has it been hard?”

“Reasonably, but I’m still not ready to cave in. I keep telling myself that anyone who can come up with as much fentanyl solution as I did in as short a time can stay away from a drink for a day at a time. All those AA people I used to make fun of have helped, too.”

“In time, maybe you’ll consider going back into practice.”

“Not until this mess is straightened out I won’t.” Micelli gestured toward the banner. “Plus I still have some big-league suin’ to do.”

“Medicine’s ready for you as soon as you’re ready for it,” Will said.

“Go, they’re waving for you up there,” Micelli replied.

“I still don’t feel comfortable being-”

“Just go!”

Will took his place on the dais. He had been reasonably prepared for his introduction, in which he was presented as a physician whose courage, spirit, and dedication defined what the Hippocrates Society was all about. What he was not prepared for was the ovation-25,000 standing spontaneously and applauding, whistling, and shouting out for fully two minutes. Below him, Patty was beaming and laughing out loud at his discomfiture.

Finally, the tribute subsided and Diana Joswick was introduced.

“Never in our history,” she began, “have our medical students and residents been better prepared for the rigors of taking care of patients. But ironically, never has the care their patients are receiving been poorer. Hospitals are no longer safe, accessible havens for the ill and injured. Getting admitted to one is often more difficult than getting into an Ivy League college. Cost of care has become our standard of care. The stethoscope and careful physical exam have been replaced by paperwork and excessive documentation. And all of this for only one and a half trillion dollars a year-many, many times what the very effective and accessible Canadian health-care system costs.

“Health care in America, the most affluent and resource-blessed nation in the history of the world, is a disgrace, and expecting change to come from insurance executives, who are the oilmen of medicine, is just not going to cut it. That is like asking the fox to build improvements in the chicken coop. It is time, my friends, to step forward and be heard. It is time to step forward and be counted. It is time we made health care something other than an oxymoron.”