Bad Doctor

VI

The Calfees are a young, pretty couple, with tons of money. This situation with Lainey Sue is probably the first bad thing that’s ever happened to them that couldn’t be solved with cash and a phone call.

After failing to find reassurance in my eyes, Jordan falls into her husband’s arms and sobs.

I’d love to give this couple hope, but like I said, I don’t get the easy cases. When I get the call it means a child’s condition has passed critical. It means hope has left the building.

Like most dads before him, Will says, “We want Lainey Sue to have the finest treatment available. Spare no expense. Money’s no object.”

This probably impresses Jordan, but in my experience it’s complete and utter bullshit.

After the fact, he’ll complain about the bill, the access, the forms, rules and regulations, the nurses in the recovery unit, and everything else that inconveniences him in the slightest. He’ll threaten to sue me and the hospital over our fees.

After all, I killed his kid. Why should he pay me two hundred grand?

Or I saved his kid, which means I did my job, like the world’s greatest plumber does his job unclogging the family toilet.

So sure, the hospital and I deserve something, but two hundred grand?

How can we possibly charge two hundred grand for a days’ work?

In most cases it’s not even their money at stake, it’s an insurance issue. But he’ll threaten to sue over the deductible, or the overage, or the out-of-pocket, or the increased future premium assessment.

Before the operation we’re all supposed to hold hands and be friends. Afterward, he won’t give a rat’s ass about me, or what I had to go through to save his child.

And neither will Jordan.

I don’t say any of this to the Calfees, which proves I’m getting better at these parent conferences despite the stack of complaints in my personnel file.

“Everyone says you’re the best,” Jordan says. “I know it’s bad, but you’ll save Lainey, right? You will, won’t you?”

When they beg, it’s like I’m drinking the chalk. I’ll need a toilet soon.

Jordan pulls away from her husband and gets right up in my face. Could there be any emotion on earth more raw and heartbreaking than a mother’s love for her dying child? Jordan’s red eyes and wet cheeks are love’s battlefield. When she speaks, her hot, sweet breath fans my lips and fills my nostrils.

“Please, Dr. Box.”

Despite the dire situation, despite Jordan’s considerable beauty, wealth, and status, I see exactly what she wants me to see.

She’s a good person.

By extension, her husband and daughter are good, worthy people.

Of course, I already know this.

She grips my wrist. “I need to know there’s hope.”

I glance at Nurse Sally’s baleful look before responding. She’s Mike Tyson in a dress, only angrier.

Sally’s told me time and again the moms need something to cling to. Something to get them through the multi-hour ordeal that lies ahead. But I won’t give any parent false hope. Sally knows this, but the look in her face says she’s ready to leap across the room and royally fuck…me…up.

I ignore Sally’s look as I always do, and tell Jordan what I tell all the moms.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Calfee. There’s no hope. You need to spend the next few hours adjusting to life without Lainey Sue.”

Jordan backs away slowly, drops to the couch, stunned.

Nurse Sally shouts, “ Oh no, you didn’t! ” And comes out of her chair like a rocket. She launches a meaty fist toward my throat. Joe steps between us, catches the blow on his forearm, and ushers me from the room.