Comfort Zone

Chapter 36

"Mr. Cruz, they told me you missed your appointment for a transplant."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Gotlin, I didn't mean to let you down. I was just too tired to go."
"I understand. Well, don't worry, they agreed to reschedule you. Can you make it?"

"Sure. It's for early tomorrow, before dialysis. My brother can give me a ride. I promise I'll go even if I don't feel good."

"Remember how much better you'll feel after you get a transplant. It'll be worth it then. No more sitting in dialysis three days a week, four hours at a pop."

Mr. Cruz smiled, but to Miriam it looked forced. "No, I guess I wouldn't have to go there anymore and see them, would I?" he said.

"You could do whatever you want."

"Sounds great, Dr. G. I'll make it to the appointment for sure."

Don't worry about letting me down, this is for you, not me, she meant to say.

"Police on the phone for you," Belle said quietly. She knew what that meant and stayed at Miriam's side, handing over the phone. Miriam's heart was pounding like it always did at these times. She identified herself to the officer.

"Dr. Gotlin. Do you know a patient named Trevor Sharp? He was found dead on the beach, drug paraphernalia nearby. He had a bottle with your name on it in his pocket. Will you sign the death certificate?"

She did, and she would.

Miriam had little time to grieve the latest death because the next patient was already complaining about the wait. But as a matter of fact, after the initial stab of pain, the "why couldn't we have helped him?" and even "the cigarettes probably didn't help," she realized she didn't feel as terrible as usual.

Good, she thought, later in the day. My coping skills are getting better.

And I only ate two brownies.

She had just finished cleaning the crumbs from her face when her malpractice lawyer called back to respond to her question regarding the subpoena for Francis Mayer's records.

"It's a good thing you called. Most doctors don't know that as official as a subpoena looks, its propriety hasn't been reviewed by a judge. Unless a request is court ordered, your patient has to authorize releasing his records, or you could get in trouble. There are HIPAA issues here," the woman said, referring to confidentiality laws.

She advised Miriam to discuss it with her patient, or contact the judge affiliated with the case to request guidance. Miriam checked her schedule. Mr. Mayer had an appointment in a few weeks. She would risk the wrath of the lawyer and miss the deadline. She put the scary looking letter to the side.

"There's one more thing," she said. "One of my patients is being sued for not disclosing his HIV status. I talked to his lawyer and he said he'd be requesting records and I'm wondering if I could be dragged into the case."

There was a pause. "Under no circumstances should you talk to a lawyer, except me of course, even if it's the lawyer for your patient. If he calls back again don't get on the phone. And make sure to call me right away. Ditto if there's any written communication. Send it right over here."

Something in her voice reminded Miriam of her own desperation when she explained to a patient that a nightly pint of Haagen-Dazs causes weight gain, and that medicine only works if it's taken regularly—things only a fool wouldn't know.

"Now we wait," her lawyer went on, showing exemplary patience. "And don't talk to any lawyers!"

Chastised, Miriam promised to comply.