Comfort Zone

Chapter 46

Do you ever listen to your heart? she remembered a patient asking recently. Well now she did, and, knowing it was too late to run for the side door, sheer instinct made her grab a letter opener, slide it under some papers on her desk, push the resume dictation button and say the following words into the receiver, speaking quickly and quietly, cupping her hand over her mouth.

"Patient said quote put in bold letters IF I'M FOUND DEAD IT'S CEO RICHARD QUEST WHO KILLED ME AND CHECK OUT THE PHARMACY end of quote.

"Further plan as per the patient's clinical course," she finished by rote, as a face appeared in the doorway. She forced herself to finish as if all was right in the world and she didn't suspect her life was about to end in some horrible way and there were so many things she hadn't done.

"Send a copy of this dictation to Dr. Truman, Dr. Engels and Dr. Fosse," she said, mentioning the first names that popped into her head. "Thank you very much, this is the end of the dictation."

"Very polite," Richard Quest said. "You're a credit to this institution.

"On the other hand, why are you dictating? Could you be having trouble with the hospital EHR?"

"Mr. Quest," Miriam said. Underneath her white coat, her heart was practicing a wild full moon drumming session, and it was only her professional mask that kept her voice from quavering.

"Call me Richard," he said.

"Yes. Richard. What brings you to my office this evening? Would you like a cup of coffee?" She started to go around her desk toward the door, toward escape, toward all the things she still wanted to do.

The man was quick, and smoothly blocked her exit. "Sit down, Dr. Gotlin. Miriam." She saw his hand slip into his pocket and she realized the bulge wasn't because he was happy to see her.

She sat down.

"Well, well, Miriam. I saw you working late the other night."

"Lots of paperwork, computerwork, to catch up on. It's impossible to finish when patients are around. Botwork, like JK used to call it." She would have jabbered on, but the CEO spoke.

"I saw JK at the window at night once too, right before he disappeared. I work late, too, you know. The work of a hospital CEO is never done, though true I'm on vacation today and a dozen people will swear they saw me. Everyone expects miracles from us--the community, board of directors, patients, staff, and especially the doctors."

"I can imagine."

"No, you can't. You can't imagine the stress we're under. People want to pay less and get more. A Mercedes for the price of a—"

"Kia," Miriam supplied, when he foundered. Keep him talking, she heard every fictional crime survivor say, and fortunately the CEO was in a talkative mood. To her surprise, he took his hand out of his pocket and sat down across from her.

"Exactly. It's all about money. Doctors think what they do is special, but now that reimbursements are down they're jumping on the bandwagon too. Concierge medicine, doing procedures instead of old-fashioned listening, and so on. What's the norm now—five minute office visits? They're wising up."

"Not all of us are."

"Yes, I'm well aware that you, for example, bring in very little revenue for the hospital, and are entirely expendable. My offer to buy your practice was a ploy, nothing more.

"Society can't afford your brand of medicine. It won't even exist in five years. Face it, you're--you were--the last flicker of a dying medical ideal."