Free Trapped by Lawrence Gold

edema?”
    “Yes.”
    “You’re completely satisfied that Fremont Hospital and Dr. Perez accomplished these objectives?”
    “If you’re looking for complete satisfaction in this , or anything else, you’d better look elsewhere.”
    “Oh , please, Doctor, don’t play word games with me.”
    “In your world , you may find black and white answers to complex questions, but in medicine, they’re rare.”
    “You still haven’t answered my question, Doctor.”
    “In my own cases, especially when there’s a bad outcome, I’m never completely satisfied. The conscientious physician —the caring physician—always wonders if he or she could have done more.”
    “If you like, Doctor, I’ll pick up the medical record , and demand that you give me yes or no answers to each element of this baby’s case. If that’s the way you want to play it, we’ll do it your way. I know you’re a defendant’s expert.”
    “I resent that. I’m nobody’s expert. I’ve testified for both sides.”
    “Yet,” Jim Hastings said, “but you’re usually in court on behalf of a physician, or a hospital.”
    “I resent the implication, Mr. Hastings. I do appear in court, but it’s in support of the truth. I, unlike you, get paid for my services without concern for the verdict. Moreover, in a large number of instances when I’ve rendered an expert opinion, the defendants settle the cases before they come to trial.”
    Hastings picked up the large medical record , which was teeming with red plastic markers to indicate points of interest for the plaintiff. There must have been over eighty of them.
    “If you want my opinion in a nu t shell, here it is. Cindy Harkins entered the world at 27 weeks, and weighing 950 grams. This, by weight and age, defines an extremely premature infant. I’m sure, Mr. Hastings, that you know the statistics on these babies as well as, or better than I. She had less than a 50 percent chance of survival, and if she hadn’t suffered brain damage of some sort, it would have been a minor miracle.”
    Hastings went on for the next three hours , hammering on each point of contention, each lab test, each blood gas, and each action of the doctor and the hospital. Every assertion he posited with the auxiliaries ‘could’ or ‘might’ , forcing Mike to answer yes, when an honest answer was much more complicated.
    Mike was relieved when his deposition ended, and had a grudging admiration for Jim Hastings’ performance. Mike didn’t think that he’d said anything that helped the plaintiff’s case, but knew that , if he or a friend needed a good malpractice attorney, then Jim Hastings would be on the short list.
     
    When Mike returned home at four-thirty in the afternoon, he collapsed into his leather recliner with a glass of Chardonnay.
    As he tried to unwind from the day, he thought, They can’t pay me enough to do this.
    He remembered last night , and Lisa, and then grabbed his phone and called her.
    The phone rang five times.
    She must be home, by now. He started to leave a message when she picked up.
    “I just got in,” she said , breathing heavily. “I thought you’d have called sooner.”
    “Listen, Lisa, I’ve had a bad day. The plaintiff’s attorney was on my back for most of the afternoon. I don’t need more grief from you,” he said, regretting it the moment it left his mouth.
    “I’m sorry,” she said, as tears formed.
    “Look, I’m beat. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
    “Really, Mike, I’m so sorry. I had a great time last night, and I thought…”
    “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. These depositions leave me in a bad mood.”
    “I can do something about that,” she said, smiling into the phone, turning red, and feeling warm all over.
    “I’m not fit company tonight, Lisa. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    After he hung up, she said, out loud, “Stupid—stupid—stupid!”
    “Who’s stupid?” Phoebe asked from the other room.
    “I am. When will I learn to keep my mouth