We'll Meet Again

80

Fran spent the rest of Saturday morning studying the articles that Dr. Adrian Lowe had either written, or which had been written about him. He makes Dr. Kevorkian look like another Albert Schweitzer, she thought. Lowe’s philosophy was starkly simple: Thanks to advances in medicine, too many people were living for too long. The elderly were consuming financial and medical resources better used elsewhere.

One article stated that much of the elaborate treatment of chronically ill people was wasteful and unnecessary. That decision should be reached by medical experts and carried out without family involvement.

Another article expounded Lowe’s theory that the incompetent were a useful-perhaps even necessary-resource for the study of new or untested drugs. They might be helped dramatically by the drug, or they might die. In either case they would be better off.

Following his career through the various articles, Fran learned that Lowe became so outrageous and outspoken in his theories that he was fired from the medical school where he taught and was even condemned by the AMA. At one point he was indicted for deliberately killing three patients, but the case wasn’t proved. After that, he dropped out of sight. Fran finally remembered where she had heard of him before-he had been discussed in an ethics course she had taken in college.

Did Gary Lasch set up Dr. Lowe in West Redding so that he could carry on his scientific research there? Did he also bring Lowe’s other dedicated student, Peter Black, to Lasch Hospital to help him conduct experiments on unsuspecting patients there? It was certainly beginning to look that way.

It also makes sense, Fran thought. It makes terrible, logical, brutal sense. This evening, God willing, I’ll have proof. If this crazy doctor wants his so-called accomplishments known, then he’s come to the right person. Boy, let me at him! I can’t wait.

Her unidentified caller had given her specific directions to Lowe’s location. West Redding was about sixty miles north of Manhattan. I’m glad it’s March, not August, Fran thought. She knew the Merritt Parkway in the summer could be packed with vacationers on their way to the beaches. Even so, she intended to leave with plenty of time to spare. She was due there at seven o’clock-well, it couldn’t come soon enough for her.

She debated about how much recording equipment to take with her. She didn’t want to scare Lowe into clamming up about his work, but she prayed he would let her tape the interview, perhaps even videotape it. In the end she decided to bring both her recorder and video camera. Both would easily fit into her shoulder bag, along with her notebook.

The articles written about Lowe after he had granted interviews were both specific and expansive. I hope he still likes to let everyone in on his theories, Fran thought.

At two o’clock she had finished preparing the questions she wanted to put to Dr. Lowe. By a quarter of three, she was showered and dressed. She called Molly to check on her and was alarmed by the despondent tone of her voice.

“Are you alone, Molly?”

“Yes.”

“Is anyone coming over?”

“Philip called. He wanted to come up tonight, but Jenna is going to be here. I asked him to wait until tomorrow.”

“Molly, I can’t talk about it yet, but a lot is happening, and it’s all promising. It looks like I’m onto something that may be of real help to you and to Philip in handling your case.”

“Nothing like good news, is there, Fran?”

“Molly, I have to be in Connecticut this evening, and if I left now, I could stop and visit with you for a few minutes on the way there. Would you like that?”

“Don’t bother about me, Fran.”

“I’ll be there in an hour,” Fran said, immediately hanging up before Molly could say no.

She’s given up, Fran thought as she impatiently pressed the button for the elevator. In that condition, she shouldn’t be left alone for even one minute.