Read Online Monday Mornings: A Novel by Sanjay Gupta - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sanjay Gupta
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to practice on.” Tompkins almost spat the name Robidaux . “My client was a guinea pig, if you will? Sort of like the Tuskegee syphilis experiments.”
Tompkins was in full trial mode now, even though it was just the four of them in the room with him, the two lawyers, Tina, and the stenographer. His inflection wouldn’t show up in the deposition transcript, but the plaintiff’s attorney was giving the hospital’s counsel a heaping taste of what his courtroom questioning of the esteemed Dr. Tina Ridgeway might sound like if the case went before a jury.
Again, Tina looked over at the hospital attorney. He was paying attention now. No more messaging on his BlackBerry. Still, he remained mute, making a few surreptitious notes on a legal pad. Tina wasn’t sure which was worse, indifference or concern.
“Dr. Robidaux is a competent doctor.”
“Competent,” Tompkins repeated as though he were clearing bile from his throat. “Competent. When I go to get my brain operated on, I don’t know about you, Dr. Ridgeway, but I want more than competent. I want an outstanding surgeon operating on my brain. Competent. Huh!”
Tina was flustered now.
“What I mean to say, Mr. Tompkins, is she is perfectly—”
“Did I ask a question, Dr. Ridgeway?” Tompkins interrupted. He turned to the stenographer. “Strike the doctor’s previous ex parte commentary.” He pivoted on his heels back toward Tina, looking a little like a game-show host with his thousand-dollar suit, expensive haircut, and extensive grooming.
“How was it that Dr. Robidaux was chosen to operate on my client?”
“That was my decision. I thought she was perfectly capable of handling a meningioma—”
“And she needed the practice?”
“No.”
“Well, how many of these had she performed, before she cut on my client?”
“I’d have to check—”
“I think you know perfectly well. How many, Dr. Ridgeway?”
“None.”
“None!” Tompkins looked as though he had just had the last bite of a delicious meal and was about to signal for the check. “None,” he said again, shaking his head. “That’s just rich.” The lawyer’s expression at that moment was the very epitome of smug.
Tina reddened. Her restraint fell away. Full-blooded anger replaced it.
“That’s what a teaching hospital is, Mr. Tompkins. You know that as well as I do. We have the best doctors in the world because we have teaching hospitals. Residents learn at teaching hospitals. No one hatches from an egg as a polished surgeon.”
Now the hospital attorney looked alarmed. He tried to interrupt. “Tina.”
“One patient may suffer, but Dr. Robidaux is a better doctor, a better surgeon for the scores of others she’ll treat in the years to come.”
“Tina!”
Tina ended her diatribe. Tompkins turned to the stenographer.
“Did you get that?
CHAPTER 6
V
illanueva rolled up toward the massive suburban home. Looking at the enormous brick structure, with its white-columned portico, fountain, and circular drive, George was amazed he’d allowed his ex-wife to convince him they needed to buy such an ungodly monstrosity. What was he thinking?
He couldn’t see any lights on in the house, but that was nothing new, either. The whole neighborhood looked as if it had been hit by a neutron bomb. Not a sign of human life anywhere among street after street of McMansions in Bloomfield Hills. If you have seven thousand square feet of living space, who needs to be outside playing or, God forbid, rubbing shoulders with the neighbors? Never mind that it was a perfect fall day, or that many of the lawns were so well groomed you could get out your clubs and practice your short game on them.
In Villanueva’s hometown, Dexter, Michigan, you were lucky to have a small patch of grass in front of your house, and if you did you kept it behind a chain-link fence. Kids in Dexter generally played in the street or at the ragged park at the edge of town. They played until dinner or
Tompkins was in full trial mode now, even though it was just the four of them in the room with him, the two lawyers, Tina, and the stenographer. His inflection wouldn’t show up in the deposition transcript, but the plaintiff’s attorney was giving the hospital’s counsel a heaping taste of what his courtroom questioning of the esteemed Dr. Tina Ridgeway might sound like if the case went before a jury.
Again, Tina looked over at the hospital attorney. He was paying attention now. No more messaging on his BlackBerry. Still, he remained mute, making a few surreptitious notes on a legal pad. Tina wasn’t sure which was worse, indifference or concern.
“Dr. Robidaux is a competent doctor.”
“Competent,” Tompkins repeated as though he were clearing bile from his throat. “Competent. When I go to get my brain operated on, I don’t know about you, Dr. Ridgeway, but I want more than competent. I want an outstanding surgeon operating on my brain. Competent. Huh!”
Tina was flustered now.
“What I mean to say, Mr. Tompkins, is she is perfectly—”
“Did I ask a question, Dr. Ridgeway?” Tompkins interrupted. He turned to the stenographer. “Strike the doctor’s previous ex parte commentary.” He pivoted on his heels back toward Tina, looking a little like a game-show host with his thousand-dollar suit, expensive haircut, and extensive grooming.
“How was it that Dr. Robidaux was chosen to operate on my client?”
“That was my decision. I thought she was perfectly capable of handling a meningioma—”
“And she needed the practice?”
“No.”
“Well, how many of these had she performed, before she cut on my client?”
“I’d have to check—”
“I think you know perfectly well. How many, Dr. Ridgeway?”
“None.”
“None!” Tompkins looked as though he had just had the last bite of a delicious meal and was about to signal for the check. “None,” he said again, shaking his head. “That’s just rich.” The lawyer’s expression at that moment was the very epitome of smug.
Tina reddened. Her restraint fell away. Full-blooded anger replaced it.
“That’s what a teaching hospital is, Mr. Tompkins. You know that as well as I do. We have the best doctors in the world because we have teaching hospitals. Residents learn at teaching hospitals. No one hatches from an egg as a polished surgeon.”
Now the hospital attorney looked alarmed. He tried to interrupt. “Tina.”
“One patient may suffer, but Dr. Robidaux is a better doctor, a better surgeon for the scores of others she’ll treat in the years to come.”
“Tina!”
Tina ended her diatribe. Tompkins turned to the stenographer.
“Did you get that?
CHAPTER 6
V
illanueva rolled up toward the massive suburban home. Looking at the enormous brick structure, with its white-columned portico, fountain, and circular drive, George was amazed he’d allowed his ex-wife to convince him they needed to buy such an ungodly monstrosity. What was he thinking?
He couldn’t see any lights on in the house, but that was nothing new, either. The whole neighborhood looked as if it had been hit by a neutron bomb. Not a sign of human life anywhere among street after street of McMansions in Bloomfield Hills. If you have seven thousand square feet of living space, who needs to be outside playing or, God forbid, rubbing shoulders with the neighbors? Never mind that it was a perfect fall day, or that many of the lawns were so well groomed you could get out your clubs and practice your short game on them.
In Villanueva’s hometown, Dexter, Michigan, you were lucky to have a small patch of grass in front of your house, and if you did you kept it behind a chain-link fence. Kids in Dexter generally played in the street or at the ragged park at the edge of town. They played until dinner or
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