Medical Error by Richard Mabry

mind about the cause of Hatley's death. However, there was one bit of information that puzzled him. Maybe he'd go downstairs and get some coffee to help him think.
    "Got a minute?"
    The voice brought him instantly alert. Anna McIntyre stood in the doorway. Her shoulders sagged just a bit, even though she had a faint smile plastered on her face. Nick wondered if something more had gone wrong. Then he noticed the two paper cups in Anna's hands.
    "I come bearing gifts from Starbucks," she said, advancing and placing one of the containers on his desk like a priest laying a sacrifice on the altar. "I wanted to thank you for the dinner last evening, and for the work you're putting in on the Hatley case."
    Nick flipped the lid offthe cup and tossed it into his wastebasket, barely hitting his target. He nodded his appreciation and took a deep sip. "No thanks necessary, but you don't know how much I needed this pick-me-up. I've been working all afternoon trying to find a blood test for allergy to Omnilex. Unfortunately, there isn't one, at least not one that's reliable. Mainly because the drug's too new."
    Anna eased into the chair across the desk from Nick and took a taste of her coffee. "So there's no way to know for sure whether Eric Hatley had his anaphylactic reaction because of the antibiotic we gave him."
    Nick recognized this as a statement, not a question. "His tryptase level came back this morning—sky-high. Hatley defi- nitely had a severe anaphylactic reaction. I just finished the microscopic exam on the tissue samples from the autopsy. Nothing else showed up. Bottom line, there's no question that a massive allergic reaction was the final event. But we can't prove the cause."
    "Could this be due to the anesthesiologist giving him a wrong medication of some kind?"
    "What makes you ask?"
    "The staffman was out of the room. JeffMurray is a first- year resident, not experienced, not necessarily good under stress. At the time I didn't make too much of it, but as I thought about it later, I wondered if maybe he didn't give Hatley something other than the antibiotic Luc ordered."
    Nick shook his head. "No way. I went so far as to go up to surgery this morning and look through one of the anesthesia carts. Other than various antibiotics, I couldn't find anything there that could have done this."
    "So I can't blame anesthesia for this."
    "Afraid not. But this should interest you." Nick reached past the pile of articles and books on his desk, moved aside Hatley's hospital chart, and picked up a thin file held together by a metal fastener strip threaded through two holes punched at the top.
    "What's that?"
    "I had them pull the emergency room record for Eric Hatley, the visit that was the basis for your choice of antibiotics. Have a look."
    He held out the folder and watched Anna thumb through it the way physicians learn to do, scanning the pages and picking out the important nuggets of information. He could tell when she got to the part that had stopped him cold.
    "What do you think?" he asked.
    "I think this patient signed in with the same name, address, and date of birth as the man who died on the operating table."
    "But?"
    "Our Eric Hatley was a middle-aged Caucasian male."Anna looked down at the page where her finger marked the line that Nick knew would get her attention, as it had his. "It says, 'The patient is a young, African-American male who complains of—' "
    "Right. Same identifying data. Different people." Nick drained his coffee cup. "Looks like you're not the only person who's had their identity stolen. But in this case, Eric Hatley lost more than his credit cards. He lost his life."

4

    A NNA STOOD QUIETLY BY AS THE EMERGENCY ROOM CLERK EXPLAINED TO A young Latino boy that his father would be seen as soon as possible. The boy nodded gravely and rattled offthe translation so rapidly that Anna, who prided herself on being able to communicate in that language, couldn't follow the Spanish. The father grimaced, clutched