Stephen White - Critical Conditions

They looked at each other.

Brenda said, “We’ve wondered about that, too. And we’re not sure. We knew, of course, about Dr. Robilio, that he founded MedExcel. We’ve researched everything we could about MedExcel to try and get some leverage to get them to grant an exception for Chaney’s protocol and the transplant. We talked about it at home, Trent and I, openly. Our frustration, whatever. Merritt must have overheard us and remembered his name. That’s the best explanation we’ve been able to come up with.”

“You talked about it?”

Brenda answered, “You know that Dr. Robilio was a local doctor, that MedExcel was his company, that he could order them to approve the protocol Chaney needs if he wanted to. We were angry, bitter-especially after we appealed to their medical board. Half a million dollars is nothing to MedExcel. The head of the medical board,” she closed her eyes and shook her head, “his response to our appeal was so cold. He ignored Chaney, he focused on the danger of the precedent. They can’t go start approving risky experimental procedures, that’s what he said. We’re even more angry and bitter than we were at the beginning. What’s risky is doing nothing. If we do nothing, barring a miracle, Chaney is going to die, Dr. Gregory. The fund-raising that’s been going on is stalled. Merritt knew all that. Trent and I have been over this stuff a hundred times together. Merritt must have heard us once or twice.”

My eyes were on John as Brenda spoke about knowing about Dr. Robilio. His face betrayed nothing but compassion for his wife. I wanted to ask him about the custody situation he was evaluating that just happened to involve Mrs. Robilio’s sister and brother-in-law. I wanted to ask if he had received any feelers from the family about cutting a deal that would result in MedExcel granting approval for Chaney’s medical needs. I wanted to know if maybe Merritt had overheard any of that. But I couldn’t press him. I had no reason to know about any of those connections myself.

I asked about money instead. “Merritt knows how far short the family is of being able to pay for the protocol and transplant through fundraising?”

Brenda scoffed. “We don’t have a prayer of self-funding this, barring some benefactor stepping forward. My divorce and the move to Colorado killed us financially. Our total net worth isn’t even a hundred grand and most of that’s in the house. The Chaney Fund that Channel 7 organized has raised, what, honey, a little over thirty thousand? Which is great, we’re grateful, but most of that will go to cover expenses here in Denver. We won’t come up with the money we need to pay for Seattle in time.”

“There’s no family money?”

“No. They’ve offered everything they have. But we both come from blue-collar families. There’s no family wealth to tap, no rich aunts, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“And Merritt knows all this?”

John replied, “She asks us things. We tell her. She’s mature, responsible. We try to treat her that way; she’s earned it. Yes, although she may not know the details, she knows how gray things look for her sister.”

“Black,” corrected Brenda.

“Black,” said John.

“Does this make sense, though? Think about what you’re saying. Merritt heard the two of you talking about how desperate things are. And she hears you mention this local man, Dr. Robilio, who has the power to help her sister. And she felt she could influence his decision by going to his house, and what, threatening him with his own gun? Does that sound like something Merritt would do?”

Immediately, John said, “No.”

Brenda opened her mouth and then closed it.

John continued. “No, it doesn’t sound like Merritt at all. That part I don’t get. I told her today when we visited that I didn’t get it, why she went to his house on her own, what she was thinking. I said, ‘Merritt, how did you think this was going to help?’”

I waited for John to tell me Merritt hadn’t answered.

He didn’t.

“How does it not sound like her, John?”

“She’s…not a leader. She’s not…she’s not a kid who will even confront a teacher who she thinks has graded a paper wrong. Don’t misunderstand me, she’s an independent thinker, she does her own thing, but she’s not a kid who fights the system.”

Brenda said, “But this time it was about her sister, Trent. Not about some English paper.”

He smiled ruefully. “I know, Bren. That must be it. I mean, if she was there, that must be it. If she did something, she did it for Chaney. Whatever it was that happened is horrible. But if Merritt went to Dr. Robilio’s house, she did it thinking she could help Chaney.”

“How did she respond when you told her you didn’t understand her going to his house? What did she do?”

Trent answered. “She looked down. Shook her head a little bit. She didn’t say a word.”

I asked, “What about the silence? Has she done this before? Just totally stopped talking?”

Brenda said, “Like this, no.”

“But something similar?”

“When she’s in trouble, she clams up. I think it’s my fault. I’m the cross-examining type. She always tells me that I use what she says against her. So sometimes, when I’m really going at it with her, she just won’t talk to me. Says it’s the only smart thing to do.”

“John?”

“After a while, maybe a few minutes, maybe a couple of hours, she’ll talk to me. It never lasts long. She and her mother do all right, eventually. Brenda cools off. They iron it out.” He paused before asking, “Any chance this is hysterical?” His tone said he didn’t believe it, but felt he had to ask.

I said, “Not in my opinion, no.”

“Organic?”

“The neurologists have ruled out an organic etiology.”

Brenda interjected, “There is something else. Trent, you remember right after we got to town and I was doing the plastic recycling story that was getting so much play? Remember, we had that discussion at dinner where I was incredulous that people kept answering my questions when they didn’t have to, really digging themselves in deeper and deeper?”

“I remember.”

“Was Merritt there?”

“Yes, she was. I’d made those ribs she likes so much. She was there at dinner that night.”

“I wonder, maybe, if she’s just been taking my advice. I remember saying that the best thing to do when someone sticks a microphone in your face is smile politely and walk away. Well, she can’t walk away, and there’s not much to smile about, but she’s certainly not digging herself in any deeper by keeping her mouth shut.”

“Do either of you recall how she reacted to your comment, Brenda?”

“No,” she said.

“It was just another dinner conversation,” John said.

“Well, it’s a provocative explanation. Maybe I’ll explore it with her. Did you two get a chance to meet the unit social worker? She’ll schedule some time to get a detailed history and maybe meet as a family.”

John said, “She introduced herself. We’re going to try and get together tomorrow.” He paused to see if I wanted to go somewhere else. “Can we talk treatment plan for a minute, Dr. Gregory?”

“Sure. That’s easy; I don’t have much of one. Right now I want to keep her safe and reduce pressure on her, let her settle in. We also need to be prepared for more bad news, from a legal point of view. The treatment planning team will meet tomorrow and we’ll put something more long-term together.”

I was aware of the sounds of traffic increasing in the cafeteria as the dinner hour approached.

I continued. “To change the subject for a second-we’re facing two bureaucratic problems right now. If-when-Merritt is arrested, the court is going to have to approve her receiving continued care here, as opposed to at the state hospital at Fort Logan. They don’t have to allow her to stay here, at Children’s. Second, in the meantime, MedExcel is going to need to approve Merritt being in a psychiatric hospital. You understand that?”