engrossed when Tom’s voice startled her.
“Hey there! Can’t sleep?” he asked.
Jenna nearly toppled over her tea. She could barely make out Tom’s frame. “Geez! You scared me to death! What are you doing up?”
“I should ask you the same thing,” Tom
muttered as he switched on the lights. “Everything okay?”
Jenna squinted as the brightness hit her
eyes. Tom walked behind her and
massaged her neck. For a moment,
Jenna closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of Tom’s powerful hands against her
bare skin.
“Actually,” she groaned, “I didn’t sleep a
wink last night. My world is upside
down. Everything I’ve ever been
taught to trust – the hospital, the staff – are all suspect. I just opened an email written by Keith
Jones, Mr. Big Shot CEO himself. It’s addressed to all St. Augustine physicians. Rob Wilson forwarded it off late last
night.”
Tom peered over Jenna’s shoulders. “This ought to be interesting.”
Jenna leaned closer to the screen and pushed
her glasses up, “Yeah . . . interesting alright. It says the hospital is extremely
remorseful regarding the unconscionable acts of their former employee. They intend to remain open and honest in
their communications, and they want the physicians to know that most patients
are not at risk.”
Tom listened intently. “So far, it sounds like either they are
the most honest, compassionate, for-profit corporation known to man, or the
cover up has begun.”
“I’d vote for the latter,” Jenna replied
grimly.
Jenna’s back stiffened as she continued
reading the email.
“Oh my God! You’re not going to believe this!” Jenna cupped her hand over her mouth. “Any patients who acquire hepatitis C as
a result of Hillary Martin’s actions will be provided free medical care for
life, including liver transplantation, if necessary.”
Tom stood in silence for a few minutes while
he digested what Jenna had said.
“What’s your take on this memo?” he asked.
Jenna swiveled the office chair around to
face her husband and slowly shook her head.
“I really don’t know. It feels . . . big . . . huge. It looks like the hospital has already
lawyered up. I get the sense that
they are trying to walk that fine line between appearing like they care yet, at
the same time, aggressively covering their ass.”
Tom nodded. “Yeah, I agree. This is something that could ultimately
take St. Augustine down for good. It
remains to be seen how many patients are infected, but it’s pretty much guaranteed
that each and every one of them is going to sue, and probably for big
bucks. The testing of thousands of
patients alone is going to cost them a fortune, not to mention providing a
lifetime of medical care for every infected patient.”
Jenna was gripped by an alarming
revelation. “I hope St. Augustine
doesn’t throw anesthesia under the bus as a scapegoat.”
Tom looked pale. Stroking Jenna’s cheek, he said, “You
and me both.”
Retreating into the kitchen to make some
coffee, Tom left Jenna alone with her growing apprehension.
Jenna turned back around to face the
computer and called up the website for the local news affiliate. Not surprisingly, the lead story was the
hepatitis scare at St. Augustine Hospital, but there was little more information
than the day before.
Thirsty for more details, Jenna typed
Hillary Martin’s name into a Google search. The first hit was a Facebook page. Unsure if it was the Hillary Martin, Jenna rapidly clicked to the link.
The photographs on the screen reignited
memories of the scrub tech with whom Jenna had worked, but barely knew. With Hillary Martin’s crimes now
revealed, the images on the screen were deeply disturbing.
Jenna sat motionless, mesmerized by the
photos. Her concentration was
broken by the scent of fresh coffee, as Tom entered the office holding two
steaming
“Hey there! Can’t sleep?” he asked.
Jenna nearly toppled over her tea. She could barely make out Tom’s frame. “Geez! You scared me to death! What are you doing up?”
“I should ask you the same thing,” Tom
muttered as he switched on the lights. “Everything okay?”
Jenna squinted as the brightness hit her
eyes. Tom walked behind her and
massaged her neck. For a moment,
Jenna closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of Tom’s powerful hands against her
bare skin.
“Actually,” she groaned, “I didn’t sleep a
wink last night. My world is upside
down. Everything I’ve ever been
taught to trust – the hospital, the staff – are all suspect. I just opened an email written by Keith
Jones, Mr. Big Shot CEO himself. It’s addressed to all St. Augustine physicians. Rob Wilson forwarded it off late last
night.”
Tom peered over Jenna’s shoulders. “This ought to be interesting.”
Jenna leaned closer to the screen and pushed
her glasses up, “Yeah . . . interesting alright. It says the hospital is extremely
remorseful regarding the unconscionable acts of their former employee. They intend to remain open and honest in
their communications, and they want the physicians to know that most patients
are not at risk.”
Tom listened intently. “So far, it sounds like either they are
the most honest, compassionate, for-profit corporation known to man, or the
cover up has begun.”
“I’d vote for the latter,” Jenna replied
grimly.
Jenna’s back stiffened as she continued
reading the email.
“Oh my God! You’re not going to believe this!” Jenna cupped her hand over her mouth. “Any patients who acquire hepatitis C as
a result of Hillary Martin’s actions will be provided free medical care for
life, including liver transplantation, if necessary.”
Tom stood in silence for a few minutes while
he digested what Jenna had said.
“What’s your take on this memo?” he asked.
Jenna swiveled the office chair around to
face her husband and slowly shook her head.
“I really don’t know. It feels . . . big . . . huge. It looks like the hospital has already
lawyered up. I get the sense that
they are trying to walk that fine line between appearing like they care yet, at
the same time, aggressively covering their ass.”
Tom nodded. “Yeah, I agree. This is something that could ultimately
take St. Augustine down for good. It
remains to be seen how many patients are infected, but it’s pretty much guaranteed
that each and every one of them is going to sue, and probably for big
bucks. The testing of thousands of
patients alone is going to cost them a fortune, not to mention providing a
lifetime of medical care for every infected patient.”
Jenna was gripped by an alarming
revelation. “I hope St. Augustine
doesn’t throw anesthesia under the bus as a scapegoat.”
Tom looked pale. Stroking Jenna’s cheek, he said, “You
and me both.”
Retreating into the kitchen to make some
coffee, Tom left Jenna alone with her growing apprehension.
Jenna turned back around to face the
computer and called up the website for the local news affiliate. Not surprisingly, the lead story was the
hepatitis scare at St. Augustine Hospital, but there was little more information
than the day before.
Thirsty for more details, Jenna typed
Hillary Martin’s name into a Google search. The first hit was a Facebook page. Unsure if it was the Hillary Martin, Jenna rapidly clicked to the link.
The photographs on the screen reignited
memories of the scrub tech with whom Jenna had worked, but barely knew. With Hillary Martin’s crimes now
revealed, the images on the screen were deeply disturbing.
Jenna sat motionless, mesmerized by the
photos. Her concentration was
broken by the scent of fresh coffee, as Tom entered the office holding two
steaming
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