Code 15 (29 page)

Studying at the kitchen table, Michael looked up from his electromagnetics text at a wall-mounted clock that hung over the refrigerator. It was five minutes to ten. Michael removed his reading glasses and flipped the book closed. Andi Crit tenden, the young lady he had been living with for the past two years, was asleep on their couch. He got up from the table and quietly went into the only bedroom to put on his sweats and sneakers.

Right before he slipped out of their third-story apartment, he checked Andi one last time and put on his Gators cap.

Michael spent a couple of minutes in the parking lot stretching out. He looked overhead at a crescent moon playing peekaboo with a skeletal sheet of clouds. It was unseasonably cool, which he viewed as a godsend as it would make his mini-marathon less demanding. Michael hadn’t changed his route in several months. The five-mile course took him through the quiet side streets of Gainesville in a gradual loop. What he liked most about it was that it kept him well away from the main campus with its abundant temptations.

When he was finished stretching, he zipped up his sweat top, ran in place for a few seconds, and then took off. Once he was out of the parking lot, he turned north along Archer Road until he reached the entrance to one of the city’s oldest neighborhoods. As he always did, he ran along the left side of the road so he could watch the oncoming traffic. He had been running about fifteen minutes when he reached a narrowly inclined hill. The hill was approximately a quarter of a mile and lined by tall spruce trees.

Inhaling deeply, he charged up the hill. Once he reached the top, he slowed his pace and started down. Jogging lazily, he did everything possible not to think about electrical engineering or his exams. Instead, he continued without a care, thinking about Andi and their upcoming spring break cruise to the western Caribbean.

He watched as two cars passed him. The first flashed its brights, which Michael acknowledged with an appreciative wave. As an experienced nighttime jogger, he knew the greatest hazard to him was the careless motorist. He was about two hundred yards from the bottom when he spotted another car just starting up the hill. As he sometimes did, he glanced over his shoulder. There were no cars coming from the opposite direction. When the oncoming car was about a hundred yards away, he suddenly heard the late-model sedan’s engine gun. He assumed it was a high school kid experimenting with his father’s car. Keeping a careful eye out, Michael immediately moved as far left as he was able without tumbling into the sewer ditch that bordered the road.

The car rapidly accelerated but it never wavered from its lane. In the next instant, the car’s high beams came on, but instead of a flash, they remained on, forcing Michael to shield his eyes from the piercing light. It took only a few seconds more for the car to close the distance between them. With the sedan still traveling in its lane, Michael assumed they would pass each other without incident. But it was exactly at that moment, just when his apprehension was fading, that the car suddenly made a violent swerve to the right. Even though the glare of the onrushing lights obscured his vision, Michael could still make out the outline of the sedan barreling down on him.

His bloodstream surged with adrenaline.

Drawing on nothing more than instinct, he dove to his left. His reaction time was near instantaneous. Three feet off the ground, with his arms outstretched in a headlong dive, he sailed toward the ditch. He prayed once he was airborne, the out-of-control car would blow past him. Unfortunately, his prayer went unanswered. There was no screeching of breaks. The first and only sound he heard was the explosive thud of three tons of high-speed steel tearing through the lower half of his body. The incredible force of the collision sent his entire body into a wild flat spin, catapulting him another five feet into the air before tossing him facedown in the ditch.

Fortunately, he didn’t strike his head, and within a few seconds, Michael opened his eyes. The pain tore at him as if somebody had buried a pair of axes deep into his thighs. Hot blood from his shattered pelvic bones and mangled soft tissues gushed out, soaking his pants. Forcing himself to take the pain, he slowly picked up his chin and looked up the hill.

The car had pulled over about twenty yards away. Straining to focus, he saw nobody, but he could hear the engine running. A few seconds passed, and the car door slowly swung open. Its interior light cast a shadowy glow that was sufficient for Michael to see the silhouette of a hulking man emerge from the car. His relief was instantaneous but fleeting. Instead of running toward him, the man stood beside his car, gazing up the hill.

Assuming the man didn’t see him, Michael yelled out, “I’m in the ditch. Help me.” The man didn’t move, but Michael knew he heard his cries for help.

“Please help me,” he screamed again between labored breaths.

But the man didn’t take a single step. In stead, he climbed back into his car and slowly pulled away. Michael closed his eyes and allowed his head to drop to the soggy muck. He knew the man would not return. After a few deep breaths, he reached down to see if by a miracle his cell phone case was still clipped to his sweatpants. It was gone.

The mounting terror of not being found consumed him.

About two minutes passed before the first car approached. It was heading down the hill and Michael waited until the last possible moment before waving and calling out to it. He screamed as loud as he ever had but the car never slowed. A half dozen other vehicles passed by in the next twenty minutes, but none heard his pleas for help. Fearing for his life, he closed his eyes and prayed.

Just when he thought he would lose consciousness, he heard the first bark of the dog. His eyes snapped open. The sound of distant footsteps became steadily louder. On the ground in front of him, the bright beam of a flashlight appeared.

Two coeds walking a golden retriever climbed down into the ditch.

“My God,” the one holding the leash said.

“We’re calling nine-one-one,” the other one told him. “We’re nursing students. We’re going to stay with you until the ambulance comes.”

In a pained, shaking voice, he said, “Somebody hit me. He stopped, but then he took off.”

“Don’t worry about that now,” she said, kneeling down next to him. She then reached for his hand and felt for his pulse.

“Thank you,” was all he could manage.

Five minutes later the air was filled with the wailing siren of an approaching ambulance. Seconds later, with its orange-and-red strobe lights flashing, the rescue van came into view at the top of the hill. The girls jumped up, moved to the shoulder of the road, and flagged it down. Two paramedics jumped out, opened the back doors of the vehicle, and wheeled over a collapsible stretcher. The more senior one took Michael’s vital signs and then started an IV. As soon as it was securely taped into place and his legs were splinted, the two men carefully transferred him onto the stretcher and loaded him into the ambulance. As they were trained, their time on scene was as brief as possible.

Ten minutes later, they rolled Michael Allenby into the main receiving bay at the Shands Hospital Trauma Center.

DAY TWENTY-NINE

 

 

After a twenty-minute drive from the hospital, Ben and Morgan pulled into the parking of the Broward County offices of the Agency for Health Care Administration.

“The most important thing is to keep your cool,” he told her as they got out of his car and headed for the entrance. “I know a couple of doctors who have gone through this. Just explain to the investigator in a calm and logical manner exactly what happened. Be careful not to come across as an arrogant doctor with a God complex. The last thing you want him to think is that you view yourself as someone incapable of making a mistake.”

“I got it, Ben. You’ve told me all of this ten times. Have a little confidence,” she said, getting the feeling he was more nervous than she was.

“You’ll be fine. Just as long as you remember to—”

“To leave my attitude at the door. I know.”

“I think you’re ready. I’ll wait for you right here,” he said, pointing to the only couch in the lobby.

Ben gave her a quick hug, kissed her, and gave her the thumbs-up. “It’s just like the first time you soloed.”

Morgan rode the elevator up to the fourth floor. After identifying herself to an indifferent receptionist, she was escorted into a small office. Devoid of any windows, the unadorned room contained only a metal desk, two straight-backed chairs, and an empty bookcase. Except for a few haphazardly placed color photographs of minor Florida officials, the walls were bare.

Using the time to bolster her confidence, Morgan went over her plan. As Ben had suggested, she would confidently but calmly defend her care of Faith Russo. Irrespective of how the interview progressed, she would not allow herself to become unglued. A few more minutes passed and Morgan was left with nothing to do except look at the photographs on the wall. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the door opened and a middle-aged man in dire need of a haircut strolled into the office. As if he were the only one in the room, he settled in behind the desk, took out a handkerchief and wiped his nose. He then reached into his briefcase and pulled out a large manila file.

“My name’s Matthew Cochran,” he announced as if he were running for office and then handed her one of his business cards. Before saying anything more, he arranged the contents of the folder into two neat stacks. “The purpose of this meeting is to offer you the opportunity to respond to the complaint made against you regarding your treatment of Faith Russo. After our meeting, I’ll prepare a report and submit it to the board of medicine. Let me make it perfectly clear that I have no role in their deliberations or decisions.” He wiped his nose for a second time. “Do you have any questions before we begin?”

Morgan found his dispassionate monotone reminiscent of a tired waiter’s recital of the Saturday-night dinner specials for the twentieth time. She was tempted to tell him that although he might find these proceedings to be a matter of routine, they were humiliating and disconcerting to her. But with Ben’s advice still echoing in her mind, she said instead, “I have no questions.”

He picked the top paper from the first stack.

“I have a brief description of the Code Fifteen along with the complaint, which I’m sure you know was anonymous. I’d like to get your side of things from the first moment you met Miss Russo.” He then raised his eyes to meet hers for the first time since he had paraded into the office.

Anxious to plead her case, Morgan moved to the front of her chair and laid her forearms on the armrests. For the next twenty minutes she went through every aspect of Faith’s treatment in methodical detail. Ever careful to avoid sounding like a defensive physician struggling to explain away a poor patient outcome, she conducted herself in a professional manner and confined her comments to the medical facts of the case.

When she finished, Cochran took a minute or so to complete his notes.

“I want to make sure I’m clear on something. Is it your opinion that Miss Russo did not have a ruptured spleen the first time you saw her?”

“That’s correct.”

“Would you please explain to me again how you reached that conclusion?”

“There was absolutely no physical or laboratory evidence that any of her abdominal organs had been injured in any way. As you can see from the medical record, I carefully documented my findings before discharging her.”

Morgan watched while he again pored over the ER record.

He asked, “Would I be fair in reporting to the board that you reviewed the triage nurse’s note before examining Miss Russo?”

“I reviewed it in detail.” Morgan knew he was referring to the nurse’s notation that Faith had complained of vague abdominal pain. Before Cochran could question her on the point, she went on to add, “In fact, it was because of the admitting nurse’s entry that I repeated Miss Russo’s abdominal examination. When I found nothing abnormal, I again asked her if she had sustained an injury to any part of her abdomen. She told me she hadn’t.”

Cochran slid his reading glasses off and set them down on the desk. He appeared puzzled. It was the first hint Morgan had that tucked away in some small fissure of his robotic brain, he was listening to her.

“I’d like to include something in my report that indicates why you believe Miss Russo was hurt after she left the emergency room. Is there anything in the police or paramedic’s reports that would substantiate your theory?”

“I’m afraid not,” Morgan answered with a sudden loss of resolve.

Cochran replaced his glasses, interlaced his fingers, and set his hands on the desk.

“Dr. Connolly, I’ve been an AHCA investigator for twenty years. If I’ve learned anything it’s that these cases rarely come down to what a physician thinks or theorizes. The only thing that matters is what he or she can prove.”

“I wasn’t with Miss Russo when she left the emergency room, so there’s no way I can prove that’s when her injury occurred. All I can tell you is that it’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

“Is there anything else you would like me to include in my report?”

She shook her head. “Not that I can think of at the moment.”

Cochran returned Morgan’s file to his briefcase.

“I’m truly sorry this happened to you. I’m a registered nurse by training. I worked in a busy emergency room for five years, so I have a pretty good idea of the crazy things that can go wrong.” He paused for a few seconds while he checked to make sure his briefcase was locked. “I’m not supposed to say this, but I hope things go your way.”

With a note of desperation in her voice, Morgan asked, “Is there anything else I can do?”

“The board meets in two weeks. Your case is one of the last ones on their agenda. From what I see here, all they’ll have to base a decision on is your statement and the medical records. You’re going to have to convince them that Faith Russo was injured after you saw her the first time.”