Free Medical Error by Richard Mabry Page A

their only other conversation.
    A rattle, a couple of clicks, and the door swung open. Mrs. Wanda Hatley stood a head taller than Anna's five feet six. Stick-thin arms and legs protruded from a shapeless flowered housedress. Flyaway brown hair liberally streaked with gray topped a gaunt face. Red-rimmed eyes with amber irises burned a hole through Anna.
    "What do you want?" The words were delivered as a challenge, not a question.
    "May I come in? I want to talk with you about Eric."
    The woman nodded once, then turned and walked away. Anna stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She followed Mrs. Hatley into a living room that contained pieces selected with care. There had probably been a time when this woman took pride in her home. If so, it was long past. Now there was a film of dust on the furniture. The covers on the backs of two upholstered chairs—what were they called? Antimacassars, Anna recalled. These were skewed and wrinkled.
    Mrs. Hatley dropped into one of the chairs and picked up a cigarette that smoldered in a half-full ashtray on the end table beside her. "Eric's dead."
    Anna eased into the chair opposite. "I know. I was with him when he died. We tried to save his life. We tried everything we could, but it wasn't enough. And I wanted to tell you how sorry I am."
    The woman waved away the apology as though waving away the smoke that wafted around her. " 'Sorry' doesn't bring him back."
    So much for sympathy. Time to move on. "Mrs. Hatley, was Eric allergic to any medicines?"
    For the first time, Anna thought she saw a spark behind that dull façade. "Uh-huh. He almost died a couple of years ago. He went to our family doctor for a Strep throat. Eric had four or five of them a year ever since he was real young. Doc Mercer always gave him a shot of penicillin. Cleared them right up. But this time he had one of those whatchamacallit . . . those allergic things . . . epileptic reactions."
    "Anaphylactic," Anna said softly, afraid to break into the narrative now that the woman was talking.
    "Yeah, that. Made him swell up like a toad. Doc had to give him two or three shots of that adrenalin stuff. And some cortisone."
    In Anna's mind, the pieces dropped into place. A previous severe reaction to penicillin was a warning flag to every doctor who treated the patient after that. Never give penicillin or any of the drugs that might produce a similar reaction. Like Omnilex, the antibiotic the fake Eric Hatley received in the emergency room. The drug that undoubtedly killed this woman's son.
    "Mrs. Hatley, do you have any family? Do you have anyone who can be with you right now?" Anna asked.
    The woman shook her head, and the curtain of listlessness descended once more. "No family. My husband passed last year. Eric was my only child."
    "Do you have brothers or sisters?"
    She shook her head.
    "Was Eric married?"
    Again, the head shake. "No, he lived alone—had a bachelor apartment—but he spent a lot of time here. He took care of me. Bought groceries, ran errands, drove me to doctors' appointments. He was such a good son." She sobbed softly."Now I don't have anybody."
    "Would you like me to get something for you? Can I do anything?"
    "Not unless you can bring Eric back." Mrs. Hatley looked up, and Anna felt the eyes bore into her. "A man came by yesterday. Lawyer. Said Eric shouldn't have died. I signed the papers to sue all the doctors and the hospital and everybody. Won't bring Eric back, but it will pay for somebody to take care of me."
    "Mrs. Hatley. One of those doctors you're suing is me."
    The woman almost spat her response. "I know."

    Anna scanned the faces of the group assembled in the department chairman's office and tried to count the allies among them. Unfortunately, other than the chair, Dr. Fowler, she wasn't sure there were any. Laura Ernst, dressed in a tailored navy suit and plain white blouse, frowned and tapped a yellow pencil on the legal pad she balanced on her lap. Dr. William Dunston, the Dean