Richard Mabry - Code Blue

"How do you know?"

"The day Milton Nix came in, I couldn't find my pen, so he gave me a couple with the bank's name on them. I used one to write his prescription, but I tossed them in a drawer right after that and found one of my own pens to use for the rest of the day."

"So?"

"Milton's pen had blue ink in it. I always write with a pen that has black ink. The printing on the prescription in Jacob Collins's pharmacy was black."

Will drummed his fingers on the table. "I think I see where this is going," he said.

She had no trouble following his reasoning. It was the same chain of logic she'd developed.

"Someone got hold of your original prescription. They changed the numbers, made a photocopy of the altered prescription so the changes wouldn't be so obvious, cut out the paper to the original size, and that's what's in the file."

"Exactly."

"So how could they have altered the prescription without it being obvious?" he asked.

"I've thought about that. Let me show you." Cathy pulled a blank sheet of paper toward her, picked up a pen, and printed "DIGOXIN,. 125 mg." She held up the pen like a magician calling attention to the next trick, then made a zero that encompassed the decimal point and the number one. After she inserted another period before the two, the prescription called for "DIGOXIN 0.25 mg." Next she wrote "1 TAB Q DAY." It was fairly easy to make a slightly crooked "2" out of the "1." She squeezed a terminal "S" after "TAB" and the job was complete.

Will nodded. "And I guess there's no way to get another look at the prescription in Jacob's files without a subpoena now that litigation has started. Think back to what you saw. Did it look like this?" He pointed to the alterations.

"I think so." She pursed her lips. "Of course, there's no one to confirm that I wrote that prescription with a blue pen except Mr. Nix."

"And, since he's suing you we can't look to him for help."Will crossed his legs and leaned back with his hands behind his head. "Let me be lawyerly, if that's a word. It seems to me that you have a couple of courses of action. You can leave this in the hands of your malpractice carrier, let them settle the suit, which sounds like what they're leaning toward. Or you can take it upon yourself to investigate and gather the information to defend yourself." He bent forward to look directly at her. "Realize that if you choose the latter course, you're not only battling this lawsuit, you're going up against someone who had little enough regard for life that they almost killed one of your patients. Don't you think it might be a little dangerous for a woman to play detective like that?"

"Dangerous for a woman?" Cathy stared back at Will until he blinked. "Why just for a woman?"

"I mean…" Will stammered.

"I'm not a frail flower, Will Kennedy. You should know that. I'll fight this all the way."

Will threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, I give. I know you're a fighter. I remember that black eye you gave Billy Dendy back in sixth grade."

"He had it coming. He wouldn't stop pulling my hair."She smiled and it turned into a laugh, probably the first one she'd had in months. "Anyway, can I retain you to help me? I don't know my way around the legal system, and it doesn't appear that my carrier's lawyers are interested in fighting the case."

"Of course, I'll help you. But, for the sake of argument, what would be so bad about settling?"

Thinking back to the hair-pulling in the sixth grade, Cathy slowly twirled a strand of her hair. "It would raise my premium for the next several years, assuming the company would still cover me. It would be a tacit admission of guilt. It would give the credentials committee at the hospital grounds to rescind the privileges I've fought so hard to get. In a town this size, the news would spread like smallpox, and my patient base would drop to zero before the end of the month. And, most importantly, it would give whoever altered that prescription the satisfaction of succeeding at my expense." She dropped the hair and blew to move it away from her mouth. "So, will you take the case?"

"Consider it part of the retainer you've already paid."

"Will, that dollar was just a token. I appreciate the way you helped with the car accident, but this will take a lot more time, I'm afraid. I can't pay much, but I'm sure I can pay you a reasonable fee over time."

Will set both feet on the floor. He reached out and took her hand, and her heart started beating faster. Whoa, this was no time to rekindle old feelings. She tried to compose her features into a perfect poker face.

"Let's barter some more," he said. "Have dinner with me two nights a week, come to church and lunch afterward with me every Sunday, and cover my expenses for phone calls and such. The rest we'll call pro bono."

"Tell you what," Cathy countered. "I'll have those dinners with you if you'll let me cook them. And they'll be working dinners. I'll pay all your expenses plus a five hundred dollar initial retainer. I can afford that, I think."

Will nodded. "And church, with Sunday lunch afterward?"

"When it includes your mother's fried chicken? That's a no-brainer. It's a deal."

Cathy stood at the exam room sink drying her hands when she sensed Jane standing behind her. She finished, tossed the paper towels in the waste container, and leaned against the sink. "What's up?"

The nurse's voice was as hushed as an acolyte's in a cathedral."Dr. Harshman's secretary called."

Cathy supposed that even the mention of Arthur Harshman inspired awe throughout Dainger's medical community. Awe, sometimes mixed with fear. She determined not to let him have that effect on her. "What did she want?"

"Emma Gladstone's surgery is scheduled for next Wednesday morning. First case on the schedule, 7:30 a.m. Dr. Harshman wants you to meet him in the surgeons' lounge at 7:00 a.m. to go over details."

"I'll bet he does." Cathy made no effort to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "What he wants to do is grill me about the surgery: anatomy and technique and all the details I had to memorize when I was a senior medical student. He's angry that Emma Gladstone insists on having me present during the surgery, and he plans to do his best to make me so miserable that I back out."

Jane apparently decided to let the topic drop. She waited a couple of moments before pulling a second pink message slip from the ones in her hand. "Dr. Bell called. He wants you to call him back this morning."

"Okay. What about the rest of those calls?"

"Same as usual. Insurance companies wanting more information before they'll pay our claims. I've done all I can, but for these you'll have to talk with the medical directors and justify the charges."

Cathy's shoulders sagged. Growing up, she'd seen her father as a hero-a surgeon who saved people's lives, a man admired in the community. There had always been money in the household. For some reason, she had pictured this as the pattern for her practice as well. Apparently, she'd been wrong. Dreadfully wrong. Money was tight. And she certainly wasn't getting much respect, either from her colleagues or from patients like Mr. Phillips. That triggered a memory.

"Did Mr. Phillips ever call back for a follow-up appointment? Or write to have copies of his records sent to another doctor?"

"Nope. I guess he's too busy to take care of himself."

Unfortunately, the old adage held true in medicine. You can lead a horse to water- Cathy shrugged. "I'll be in my office." She took the pink slips and the charts that went with them and headed offto do battle with the insurance companies. On the way, she tossed her soiled lab coat into the hamper and shrugged into a fresh one, nicely pressed and starched. Maybe she'd feel better if she looked professional while she made the calls.