enter. Anticipation became disappointment.
“Where’s Dr. Cooper this morning?” Lisa asked.
“What am I, chopped liver?” He smiled.
Lisa reddened . “I’m sorry. I thought that Mike—I mean, Dr. Cooper—would be making rounds this morning.”
“He’s a cute guy, that Mike,” Brad said , enjoying the opportunity to tease her.
“It’s just that…”
“I’m sorry, Lisa. I couldn’t resist. Most of the nurses are used to my sense of humor.”
They’d warned her about Brad Rosin, but also added that he didn’t have a mean bone in his body.
“Mike’s got a deposition this morning. He’ll be in this afternoon, if he survives.”
Lisa wanted to ask more about the deposition, but thought better of it.
“And how’s our baby girl this morning?”
“She’s much better,” Lisa said. She then gave Brad the details of her assessment, and reviewed the day’s laboratory data.
As Brad approached the incubator, Ted said, “We’ll wait outside until you’re done, Doctor.”
“Don’t bother,” Brad said. “Come stand by me and watch as I examine your daughter. You’ll get a good look.”
After Brad finished examining Amanda, both parents stood radiated love for their tiny child. “I think she’s out of the woods.”
“We can never thank you, and Dr. Cooper , enough,” Karen said, “especially Dr. Cooper, who spent most of the day with her.”
“We appreciate that .” Brad said. “We live for the days when we can evict babies like Amanda to their homes.”
As Brad prepared to leave, Lisa, still blushing, couldn’t resist the question. “When will he be finished with the deposition?”
“Don’t worry, Lisa. I’ll pass him a note after study hall,” Brad said, laughing at his own odd sense of humor.
Chapter Eleven
Mike Cooper sat in the plush waiting room in the Emeryville offices of the plaintiff’s attorneys in Steele v. Fremont General Hospital, and Fernando Perez, M.D.
As he waited to give his deposition on the case, he read the laminated plaque displayed on the wall: ‘ Hastings, Carlyle, & Hobart are attorneys who help babies and their families who are the victims of medical negligence at the hands of physicians, nurses, and hospitals. The family has the right to know if their child’s disabilities are due to negligent care, and has the right to seek legal assistance to help with medical bills and their child’s education. Actions against these terrible injuries caused by negligence will help prevent these injuries from happening again to other babies. Please ask us about our track record at trial, and our role in achieving equitable settlements.’
Neither Mike , his partners, nor Brier Hospital, had been named in the suit. They’d been on the receiving end of the forward pass from Fremont General Hospital when they transferred the baby to Brier’s NICU.
Mike sat at one end of a thirty-foot long oak table in the attorney’s giant conference room, which had a spectacular view of the San Francisco Bay. After they swore him in and elicited his qualifications, Jim Hastings, a husky and well-groomed man, started the questioning. Jim was in his early fifties, and had a reputation for affability, but with the sting of a scorpion.
“Dr. Cooper, please tell us about your assessment of the baby , Cindy Harkins.”
Referring to his notes, Mike said, “Brier’s specialized neonatal care ambulance brought the baby to us at nine a.m. on the 14th of June. They’d delivered her by C-section at 27 weeks, and she weighed 950 grams. She had respiratory distress syndrome, and signs of brain damage.”
Mike went on to describe , in medical detail, the clinical, laboratory, and x-ray findings.
“You reviewed Cindy ’s medical records from Fremont?”
“Of course.”
“You, as an expert in Neonatology, understand the need to maintain normal blood pressure and glucose levels?”
“Yes.”
“And to prevent seizures and to minimize cerebral
“Where’s Dr. Cooper this morning?” Lisa asked.
“What am I, chopped liver?” He smiled.
Lisa reddened . “I’m sorry. I thought that Mike—I mean, Dr. Cooper—would be making rounds this morning.”
“He’s a cute guy, that Mike,” Brad said , enjoying the opportunity to tease her.
“It’s just that…”
“I’m sorry, Lisa. I couldn’t resist. Most of the nurses are used to my sense of humor.”
They’d warned her about Brad Rosin, but also added that he didn’t have a mean bone in his body.
“Mike’s got a deposition this morning. He’ll be in this afternoon, if he survives.”
Lisa wanted to ask more about the deposition, but thought better of it.
“And how’s our baby girl this morning?”
“She’s much better,” Lisa said. She then gave Brad the details of her assessment, and reviewed the day’s laboratory data.
As Brad approached the incubator, Ted said, “We’ll wait outside until you’re done, Doctor.”
“Don’t bother,” Brad said. “Come stand by me and watch as I examine your daughter. You’ll get a good look.”
After Brad finished examining Amanda, both parents stood radiated love for their tiny child. “I think she’s out of the woods.”
“We can never thank you, and Dr. Cooper , enough,” Karen said, “especially Dr. Cooper, who spent most of the day with her.”
“We appreciate that .” Brad said. “We live for the days when we can evict babies like Amanda to their homes.”
As Brad prepared to leave, Lisa, still blushing, couldn’t resist the question. “When will he be finished with the deposition?”
“Don’t worry, Lisa. I’ll pass him a note after study hall,” Brad said, laughing at his own odd sense of humor.
Chapter Eleven
Mike Cooper sat in the plush waiting room in the Emeryville offices of the plaintiff’s attorneys in Steele v. Fremont General Hospital, and Fernando Perez, M.D.
As he waited to give his deposition on the case, he read the laminated plaque displayed on the wall: ‘ Hastings, Carlyle, & Hobart are attorneys who help babies and their families who are the victims of medical negligence at the hands of physicians, nurses, and hospitals. The family has the right to know if their child’s disabilities are due to negligent care, and has the right to seek legal assistance to help with medical bills and their child’s education. Actions against these terrible injuries caused by negligence will help prevent these injuries from happening again to other babies. Please ask us about our track record at trial, and our role in achieving equitable settlements.’
Neither Mike , his partners, nor Brier Hospital, had been named in the suit. They’d been on the receiving end of the forward pass from Fremont General Hospital when they transferred the baby to Brier’s NICU.
Mike sat at one end of a thirty-foot long oak table in the attorney’s giant conference room, which had a spectacular view of the San Francisco Bay. After they swore him in and elicited his qualifications, Jim Hastings, a husky and well-groomed man, started the questioning. Jim was in his early fifties, and had a reputation for affability, but with the sting of a scorpion.
“Dr. Cooper, please tell us about your assessment of the baby , Cindy Harkins.”
Referring to his notes, Mike said, “Brier’s specialized neonatal care ambulance brought the baby to us at nine a.m. on the 14th of June. They’d delivered her by C-section at 27 weeks, and she weighed 950 grams. She had respiratory distress syndrome, and signs of brain damage.”
Mike went on to describe , in medical detail, the clinical, laboratory, and x-ray findings.
“You reviewed Cindy ’s medical records from Fremont?”
“Of course.”
“You, as an expert in Neonatology, understand the need to maintain normal blood pressure and glucose levels?”
“Yes.”
“And to prevent seizures and to minimize cerebral
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