Richard Mabry - Lethal Remedy

John didn't voice the rest of what he was thinking. In his case, did that risk go up to one in a hundred? One in ten? A hundred percent?

"Enough of that." Rip made one more note on the pad in his lap. If this went well, he'd add the material to John's chart. If it didn't, he might end up shredding it to avoid losing his medical license.

"Tell me about Randall Moore." John shifted on the exam table, trying in vain to find a comfortable spot. Finally, he gave up and swung into a sitting position with his feet dangling over the side. "All I know is what I've been told. He and his sister are the only children of a wealthy family. He inherited a good bit of that money when his father died and has been living offit ever since." "Why is he suing?" "His mother was headed for the internal medicine clinic to see someone for a second opinion when she had a fatal stroke. Apparently, in Randall's world, when something bad happens, filing a suit is a reflex action.

So he filed one against the medical center and every doctor involved with her from the time she hit the floor. I started an IV while we waited for the EMT's." John spread his hands. "So they threw me in for good measure." Rip lowered his head and massaged his temples. "That's just dandy. If his culture comes back Staph luciferus- and the odds are that it will-I can give him Jandramycin and probably save his life, but there's a chance that he'll get a life-changing and possibly fatal complication later." He looked up. "But if I don't, he'll probably die. And as a physician, I can't deny him treatment that would prevent that." Even if it would put an end to his lawsuit against my friends. "There's another possibility, you know." "What?"

"This drug may work. If I don't get a late complication, if Sara's teenage patient starts to recover, we may have stumbled onto the answer. Give this to every Jandramycin patient after their course of treatment, and they'll do fine." "Sounds too good to be true, John."

Rip shook his head. "Don't get me wrong. I don't want you to get a complication from your treatment. I hope and pray that Sara's patient pulls through. But something inside me keeps telling me not to get my hopes up." "I guess I hear a different voice," John said. "Beth drummed it into me so often I can still hear her saying it. 'God's in con trol.' We may not see His hand, but it's there. And I think He's got this covered." Rip looked at his watch. "Well, in about an hour we'll know what He's got up His sleeve for you… and the rest of us."

The afternoon dragged, and Sara found it difficult to focus on her patients. As she walked out of every patient's room, her eyes were drawn to the closed door at the end of the hall. How was John doing?

Any problems after the injection? Fortunately, no big diagnostic challenges presented themselves, and she was able to care for her patients without too much trouble. By five minutes to three, she was caught up. "Glenda, my next patient isn't due for twenty minutes. I'm going to run over to my academic office for a minute." Although she didn't actually run, Sara moved quickly through the halls. She nodded a brief greeting to a few of the people she met and prayed that none of them wanted to stop and chat. Lillian was waiting in the hall outside Sara's office, looking at the notices on the bulletin board but obviously paying no attention to them. "Heard anything?" Lillian said. "Not a thing. Shall we go in and wait?" Sara pointed down the hall. John and Rip were sauntering toward them, conversing in low tones. Neither seemed in a hurry to reach them. Come on. I need to know if everything went okay. hen they drew abreast of the two women, John spoke first. "Here I am, none the worse for wear." W "No problems?" Sara asked. Rip answered with a smile. "None. Not even any itching or rash. Vital signs stable. He tolerated the drug with no problems." His countenance turned somber. "Now we have to hope it has a protective action on patients who've had Jandramycin." Sara ushered the group through the empty outer office. Her secretary's desk was vacant. She must be on a break. "Come on in. I think we have enough chairs. I-" As her foot touched the threshold of her office, Sara's scream was masked by the noise of the explosion.

Mark Wilcox scratched his head. He'd been calling Sara all day without success. No answer on her cell phone, no response to the messages he'd left with her secretary. He understood that she might be tied up, but he was hurt that she hadn't called back. It was important to him to further his relationship with her. She had no idea how important it was, and maybe this was the time to let her know. He'd played his cards close to his vest up to this point, but he was about to change all that. Unfortunately, nothing was going to happen if she didn't respond to his calls. Well, while he waited, maybe he could do a little legal work. He checked a number and dialed. "Lewis Robinette, please," he told the perky female voice that answered the call. "May I say who's calling?" "Attorney Mark Wilcox. I'm lead counsel in an action Mr. Robinette is pursuing." "One moment, please, Mr. Wilcox."

After almost a minute listening to saccharine strings playing an almost-familiar melody, Mark heard, "This is Lewis Robinette. Mr.

Wilcox is it?" "Matter of fact, it's Dr. Wilcox. I'm an MD and JD. But I didn't call to match credentials with you. I know your reputa tion in the legal community. Matter of fact, it's because of the respect you've earned that I'm calling." "Nice words, but you need to explain them." "You've been engaged by Randall Moore to pursue a malpractice action he's filed after the death of his mother. Along with Southwestern Medical Center and just about every doctor on its staff, he's included my client, Dr. John Ramsey." Mark transferred his phone to the other hand and wiped his moist palm on the bottom of his white coat. "If you don't remove him from the suit, you're going to end up with egg on your face." The reply came without emotion-just a matter-of-fact question: "Exactly why do you say that?" Mark began to explain, emphasizing John's limited activity in the event that preceded the death of Moore's mother. Then, after considering the pros and cons of his action, he told Robinette that John had no insurance company behind him, so there were no deep pockets there for the plaintiffto mine. Robinette's voice was calm. "My client is interested in only one thing: justice. He believes that the medical center and its doctors should pay for their negligence that deprived his mother of her life." "And do you have experts who've reviewed the case and are willing to testify that such negligence exists? Do they think the standard of care was breached at any point in the care of Mrs. Moore?"

Mark decided to fire one more salvo. "Because I have some extremely qualified and persuasive witnesses who'll shoot yours out of the water. And after the judge throws out the suit, we could consider filing one against your client and your firm for frivolous litigation, among other things." "Dr. Wilcox, I believe you mentioned my reputation. I didn't earn it by caving in when someone yelled 'boo' at me. I appreciate what you're doing on behalf of your client. Matter of fact, I'd do the same thing if I were in your shoes. But as soon as you file an answer to the suit, I'll review the situation. As of this time, I'm ready to proceed with discovery, and let the judicial process play out." "I think-" Mark stopped when the click registered in his ear. Robinette was already gone, undoubtedly moving on to something else after making a note of the billable time he'd spent on the phone. Mark shrugged and dialed a number that was becoming familiar to him. He'd better let John Ramsey know about this latest call. There was no answer on Ramsey's cell. The nurse in the general internal medicine clinic told Mark that Dr. Ramsey wasn't scheduled to see patients that day. When the answering machine picked up at Ramsey's home, Mark hung up. Sara wasn't available. John wasn't available. He leaned back in his chair, put one foot on an opened bottom desk drawer, and wondered at the connection. Could this have something to do with their Jandramycin investigation? He'd need to find out.