Fertility: A Novel (12 page)

Mark had shoved the hospital’s settlement offer to the back of his mind, despite Baumgarten’s daily attempts to set up a meeting to discuss it. Mark knew the lawyer’s take on it: Let’s clean the hospital’s clock. Normally, he’d have been one step ahead of him. Vengeance was not only sweet, it was necessary to ensure that others didn’t try the same stunt. But the realization that he had no urge to destroy the hospital left Mark confused and worried; so much so, he kept both Catherine and Baumgarten at bay every time they brought up the subject of the settlement offer.

Two weeks had passed since they’d received the hospital’s proposal. For Catherine, every day that Ariel awoke happy and healthy was a red-letter day. Although she couldn’t forget what had happened, she felt the sincerity of the hospital’s apology could be measured in its proposed improvement plan. She thought it well designed, and no one could say that they were trying to do it on the cheap. She’d written a piece on the economics of health care a few years back and knew what hospitals were up against: cuts to reimbursements from Medicare, more uninsured patients turning into charity cases, competitive demands that drove them to keep up with neighboring hospitals — be it with sunlit atriums for their lobbies or the newest robots for microsurgery. She thought the hospital’s proposal was on point. And for her, the idea of something positive coming out of their nightmare held great appeal.

On a sunny morning in early December, as she and her husband sat at breakfast with Ariel next to them in her baby seat, she decided to force the issue that Mark had been so artfully dodging.

“Sweetie, I think it’s time we talk about the hospital’s proposal. I get the sense you’d rather not and I can understand why. The whole experience was…well, we both know how devastating it was. But Ariel’s doing well now. I’ve given the proposal quite a bit of thought and I know you likely have, too. So I think it’s time we share our thinking.”

Mark had been dreading this. What he shrank from was admitting that he didn’t have the thirst for blood that had always driven him. That nice-looking lawyer representing the hospital had made a good case. And, as soon as Dr. Smith had told him the improvement plan was the real deal, he had no reason to doubt it. That wasn’t the problem. The question was, would he make the hospital pay for nearly killing his daughter, for making his wife almost lose her mind? To his amazement, the answer that kept coming to him was, “No.” He was just relieved that it was over and that they’d had a chance to pick up with their lives again.

“Sorry I’ve been putting you off. I wanted to think it over.” Stalling some more, he asked, “You said you have an opinion. How do you think we ought to respond?”

“Well, I have to admit that as tired as I was that day, I was impressed by that attorney’s presentation. What was her name? Something funny, I can’t recall. She and the other lawyer made a good point. If millions are going to be spent because of what Ariel went through, let those millions do some good. The truth is, the patients would be the beneficiaries. Better nurse-patient ratios, less fatigue in the nursing ranks, effective implementation of the computerized medication system. The downside, of course, is that Ariel’s cash settlement would be much smaller than what she would get if we filed a lawsuit.”

“There’s no doubt about that, Catherine. The case is worth millions, particularly because they confessed to all their mistakes. The question is, is that the route you want to take? If so, I’ll get Baumgarten on the horn and give him the go-ahead to prepare for war.”

“Well, how do you feel, Mark? Do you want to go to war? I wouldn’t blame you if you do.”

Trying not to sound too sheepish, he finally made his admission. “The truth is, I just don’t have much of a stomach for it. I can’t believe it myself but I just want to put all of it behind us. But I’ll go to war with the hospital if that’s what you want. I will, Catherine.”

“No, I don’t want to go to war,” she said as she started to well up. “I feel just as you do. Let’s delight in this beautiful baby and get satisfaction from knowing that her suffering produced some good. Truth be told, Ariel doesn’t need millions from a settlement. It would likely ruin her. She’d become one of those disaffected rich kids getting into trouble with all their money. We don’t want that, do we?” she teased.

“We certainly don’t want her to fall victim to the corrosive influence of wealth,” he said, tongue in cheek.

“No, we certainly don’t,” Catherine said, smiling. “So what do you say? Can we accept the offer — maybe with a counter that they throw in free medical care for Ariel until age eighteen or something like that?”

“Well,” her husband replied, laughing to himself in disbelief, “we certainly don’t want to look like a couple of chumps. Let’s demand free medical care.” Then he added, “Baumgarten’s going to think we’ve lost our minds. He’ll be furious when he sees the fees he would have earned from a fat settlement — or better yet, a jury award — go up in smoke. And you know what? I don’t give a crap.”

Catherine got up from her chair and sat down on her husband’s lap. As she kissed him, a feeling of wellbeing flooded over Mark. Much to his surprise, his groin played no role in it. He wondered if he was turning into some blissed-out pansy. But as he kissed his wife back, his
shlong
came to life, restoring his faith in himself as a man’s man.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Word of Sarah’s success spread quickly through the law firm. Harry went straight to the firm’s managing partner and lobbied for a substantial raise for his protégée. John Mess, delighted and relieved, passed the Excedrin to Ted Ainslie, whose job it was to find the money to implement the remediation plan. Mess made good on his promise to recognize Dr. Richard Smith, Dr. Esther Cho and Jeannie Lopez. For delivering the apology to the Arkins, they each got two extra weeks of vacation — or two weeks’ pay if they preferred. On top of that, Dr. Smith was made an offer to join the hospital as an attending in pediatric intensive care when he completed his fellowship in June. With the single exception of Reid Baumgarten, the Arkins’ attorney, all parties involved concluded it was the best possible outcome from the near-tragic medical error.

Rick wasted no time in contacting Sarah to offer his hearty congratulations. He suggested they celebrate at an Asian fusion restaurant and continue their discussion of all things non–work related. Sarah readily agreed. She was fairly certain his endorsement of the improvement plan had tipped the scales in their favor. But beyond that, she wasn’t averse to the prospect of spending more time with the doctor. He was not only as tall as she — and handsome in a rough-hewn way — he was also smart, driven about his work and gutsy. Had she met him under similar circumstances before she dialed back her expectations for happiness, a date with Rick Smith would have been cause for some excitement. As it was, she was open to the idea of sharing a meal with him.

After checking their calendars, it became clear that the upcoming Sunday was the only day open to them both. They agreed to meet at eleven so they would have the chance to work out beforehand, she with a swim at the pool and he with a long run along the river.

Rick and Sarah — as they learned to refer to one another over dim sum — talked effortlessly as empty plates accumulated on their table. After a couple of hours, Sarah noticed the maître d’ giving them the evil eye, and the long line of people waiting to be seated.

“I think we’d better get our check,” Sarah suggested, nodding to the waiter.

“Oh, is our time up? I thought we were just getting started.”

“Well, I think our time at this table is up, unless you don’t mind the ugly stares from those people over there,” she said, nodding in the direction of the door.

Rick turned around and saw the mass of humanity eager to have their go at dim sum. “Oh. I see what you mean.” But he wasn’t ready to say good-bye to Sarah Abadhi.

“I don’t know what the rest of your day looks like, Sarah, but if you have some time, we could walk up to the Met. Actually, if you say yes, you’ll be rescuing me from a life devoid of culture. At this point in my training, the only culture I recognize is the kind that grows in a dish of agar.”

Sarah hadn’t been to the Metropolitan Museum since she’d gone with Alex years before. She generally shunned anything that reminded her of their time together, but she found herself tempted by Rick’s suggestion. “Well, I guess you could say I’m equally deprived, culturally speaking. Eighty hour workweeks have a way of doing that to you. I think your prescription to remedy our shared deficit might be just the thing.”

The waiter approached with the bill and they both reached for it.

“Hey, this is my treat. Think of it as congratulations on the settlement,” Rick said.

Though the fellow made just a fraction of what she earned, Sarah didn’t put up a fight.

* * *

The twenty-five-block walk to the museum, the three hours they spent at the exhibits and the visit to a cafe that followed were characterized by nothing if not comfort. Rick and Sarah both found themselves comfortable in their own skin, and unable to run out of subjects to discuss, often with passion. One topic segued seamlessly into the next, and before either of them knew it, the day had turned to night. Rick couldn’t believe his good luck. Not only was Sarah hot, she was great company for a cherished day off. Sarah was a bit incredulous herself. She wondered if she might get a break from the narcissists who’d plagued her dating life in the five years since Tom, the last boyfriend of record, had left.

Leaving the cafe, Sarah decided to make the first move. She turned and kissed Rick, lightly at first, and then, when she got a friendly response, with more enthusiasm. He was glad he’d put clean sheets on the bed after his morning run — just in case he got lucky that day. He suggested they go to his place. Sarah complimented him on coming up with another fine idea for spending a Sunday off.

* * *

As it turned out, Rick and Sarah fit one another to a tee. They had an equally good time under the covers and out of bed. Since their schedules were hectic, mutually free time was hard to come by, but they let no opportunity pass. They usually met at Sarah’s apartment, which was not only habitually cleaner, it was also not shared by — as Rick good-naturedly described him — a hairy ape of an orthopedics resident. When they had more time than it took to have sex and catch some sleep, they worked out together. They pounded out seven-minute miles along the river or swam laps at Sarah’s pool. With Rick’s help, Sarah mastered flip turns, something that had eluded her for years.

Early on, Rick brought up the subject of commitment, explaining that it was something that held no appeal for him. “Look,” he said matter-of-factly, “I have no plans to get married — ever. I don’t want kids. I like my work, a lot, and it takes just about all I have to do it well. I don’t want to add something into the mix as important as a family, and end up ruining both.”

Rick had given this early warning to each of his many girlfriends over the years. Most of the women had tried to change his mind, saying something akin to, “You’ll sing a different tune when you meet the right woman.” But Sarah was not like any of his previous girlfriends.

“I’m glad you brought this up. Thanks for your honesty. I agree to your terms,” she said in a businesslike way. “I understand what it means to have work fill up your life. The truth is, I’d planned on saying something similar, but you beat me to the punch.” Then she punched him lightly on the arm and they ended up wrestling on the floor. In no time flat they were in the sack, enjoying each other’s bodies with abandon.

A few weeks later Rick broached the subject of getting tested for the standard battery of sexually transmitted diseases, so they could ditch the condoms and switch to some other form of birth control. When he mentioned birth control, Sarah’s mood changed.

“Are you okay with that? Getting tested, I mean,” he asked.

“Sure. It’s a good idea. Let’s do it.” But the issue of birth control had touched a nerve. Now she’d have to disclose what she’d told only one other lover — Tom — back when she was a law clerk. She took a deep breath and laid it on the table. “But birth control won’t be necessary. I’m sterile.”

“What? No way. You can’t be sterile. You’re a beautiful, sexy, athletic, big-bucks lawyer.”

That made her smile. “Well, if those were the key factors in reproduction, I guess I’d be one hell of a fertile earth mother. But the fact is….” Her voice trailed off, pained at having to discuss the thing she mourned like a death. “The fact is, I can’t have children.”

With Tom, a fellow lawyer, she merely told him she was infertile and that birth control was a non-issue. But it was different with Rick.

“You’re probably wondering what happened to me,” she said, trying her best to sound cool despite the rhythmic pounding in her head.

“As a doc, I am kind of curious. But you don’t have to go into it if you’d rather not.”

“No. It’s okay. I got chlamydia from my college boyfriend, Alex. We’d been together for years. We went to grad school together, planned a future together, you know, the whole nine yards. But, unbeknownst to me, he’d been screwing around, apparently for a long time. I didn’t realize he’d infected me with chlamydia until it progressed to pelvic inflammatory disease. The end result is my fallopian tubes are shot.”

Rick’s first thought was what a shame those terrific genes would not be making an appearance in the next generation. Then he remembered something he’d learned during his gynecology rotation — how infertility often precipitated major depression in women. From the way Sarah’s mood had changed when he mentioned birth control, it seemed to be a big deal for her. Even a high-powered attorney probably wanted babies. The drive to reproduce was instinctive to most people, though it was a drive he didn’t share.

“I’m so sorry, Sarah. I really am.” He put his arm around her and rubbed her back. He kissed her cheek and brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “If you point out the bastard who did this to you — this Alex jerk — I’ll beat the crap out of him,” he offered, picking up his fists and jabbing the air.