Chaos at Crescent City Medical Center (5 page)

"Yeah.  You would think a cancer center would know how to calculate the correct chemotherapy medicine.  Those patients' families were really angry and the press had a field day with it.    People pick hospitals because of their doctors, don't they?
"

"Used to, but now they have to go where their insurance company will
pay.  Big business and insur
ance
companies run health care now.  They control health care and who gets it.  Obama Care will only make it worse and more costly.   Remember when hospitals first started advertising and using slogans like,
'
the best care in town
'
or
'
caring made visible
'
or
'
the finest doctors in the country?
'
"  Mitch nodded, and Alex continued.

"These slogans have come back to haunt us, becoming the basis for malpractice suits.  Sometimes patients don't believe they got the best care or the finest doctors."

"Are these claims defensible?"

"Many are, some aren't, depending on the facts of the case.  Information systems make it possible for patients to search data bases kept on health care practitioners.  For instance, a patient c
a
n find out whether a practitioner has ever been sued."

"Sounds like the medical information explosion to me.  Pretty scary for doctors and nurses, I would imagine."

"It is.  Patients can even learn how much money the physician earns.  That adds even more fuel to the fires of malpractice actions.  It's all part of the consumer rights movement."  Alex was pensive as she stared into her water glass.

"You mean that if patients experience bad results from surgery or medical treatment, they can do their own research to build a malpractice claim?"  Mitch looked surprised.

"Sure.  Even more disturbing than the actual malpractice actions
is
the amount of publicity they receive, and how that publicity impacts the image and reputation of a hospital.  I predict those hospitals in Boston and Florida will lose millions in revenues in the next couple of years.  Times are tough. Many smaller and less powerful hospitals will be bought and closed by big corporations to decrease competition and costs.  Others'll be forced out of business.   We're already seeing that in New Orleans."  

Mitch s
e
t his coffee cup down and pondered her remarks.  "Many people think physicians make too much money anyway."  He looked at Alex sheepishly.  "Of course, people say the same thing about lawyers.  You think the Obama Care will remedy any of these problems?"

Alex was quick to reply.  "Nope.  It will make it worse.  CCMC is currently in pretty good shape financially because of our large international population.  They represent a significant portion of our revenues."

"How do you think CCMC will do in the long run?  You think anyone will buy them?"   Mitch looked at her intently.

"Don't know.  Someone tried a few months ago, but our board of trustees voted it down.  They're adamant we remain independent.   I know we're in for a long haul."  Alex sighed, "I can't even predict what'l
l happen tomorrow.  Another huge
problem is the loss of Charity Hospital during Katrina.  The city and hospital community has been struggling with how to care for Louisiana’s poor, and disenfranchised population.  It’s gonna be a bumpy ride, no question about it.”

Mitch stifled a yawn and looked as his watch.  "It's getting late. Best be getting home.  I don't want to keep you out too late." Mitch stood and helped her with her chair.  Then the handsome couple walked hand-in-hand through the balmy New Orleans night.

At her door Mitch tentatively kissed Alex good night.  "Call you soon.  Sweet dreams." 

"Thanks, Mitch.  It was a lovely evening."   Alex entered her flat and returned to the living room to clear away the wine glasses and cheese tray.  After straightening the kitchen, she returned to the living room to close the French doors leading to the roofed balcony.  She stepped outside again to enjoy the fragrant New Orleans night. 

Once outside, she was surprised when she noticed Mitch on the opposite side of the street talking to a short stocky man with a cigar in him mouth. Strange, she thought to herself.  It's after midnight.  I'll have to ask him who that was.  She watched the pair several minutes.  After a few minutes the men parted ways, and Mitch headed towards his car.

***

Congressman Adam Patrick Lee sat impatiently in his room at the Palm Court Hotel.  For the tenth time, he dialed Alex's number.  No answer.  Where in the hell is she, he thought to himself.  It's almost midnight.  Damn, I wish she didn't live here.  This city's full of creeps and perverts.  He had hated New Orleans for years, and was convinced that the city had robbed Alex’s mother of her youth and her sanity. He still blamed New Orleans for her final, anguished mental break and the silence she had lived in for over 30 years.

Fucking nasty city, he thought as he impatiently redialed Alex’s home phone.  His hand still stung from where he'd cold-cocked some kid trying to pick his pocket several hours earlier.  He's been right outside his hotel, for God's sake.  The most expensive hotel in New Orleans, and it was worse that Washington DC. It was even worse than the pickpockets in Rome and Sicily, and they were supposed to be the worst on the planet.  Was nothing sacred in this underwater swamp town?
Congressman Lee
had not been in favor of rebuilding the city after Katrina but had kept his thoughts to himself.  Screw the levies.  No amount of patching and reengineering could ever guarantee what could happen in a Category 5 hurricane.  He shook his head as he remembered back to the travesties that had occurred in the Super Dome following the storm.  Rape, violent assault, crack-cocaine and drug dealing not to mention suicide and disregard for the weak and elderly were all reported.  What a hell hole the Super Dome was. Crime was out of control in America, and Adam Patrick Lee, before he went to his grave, was determined to do
something about it, or at least make his mark in history trying to fix it.

His mind continued to wander and he reviewed the events of the day and his many visits to the Crescent City.  Things had gone pretty well in most of his meetings, but something wasn't quite right in the Governor's office.  Several of the Governor's aides had been short, practically rude, to him.  Well... maybe not rude, maybe more embarrassed and uninformed.  Didn't know a damn thing about how Governor Raccine was planning to use his influence with the Southern Governors to win the crime vote.  Raccine had to have a plan.  The Southern Governors were meeting next week.

What was up with Governor Raccine himself?  Why was he unavailable for the Congressman?  For God’s sake, Adam Lee was one of the highest ranking Congressmen in DC. For years Raccine had been a wily, savvy politician, always in control of his issues and platforms. When Adam had finally met with
him
, Raccine seemed unsure of himself, sort of floundering all around the issues.  Not even four bourbons had calmed him down, although his speech was a little slurred when he left.  The governor had kept looking over his shoulder as if he expected someone to be there.  Of course, his wife
was
sick with terminal cancer.  But Adam thought it was more than that.  Something was wrong.  He could smell it. Fucking, dirty, nasty city.

Congressman Lee suspected that if Kathryn were that ill, he'd be screwed up too.  He smiled to himself when he thought of his wife back in Virginia.  He missed her.  He'd never tell her, of course.  But he knew she knew.  He'd been a lucky man to find such a fine woman to stand by him.  She was the best political wife a man could have, and she put up with his tangents, moods, idiosyncrasies, bouts of drinking and depression.  He'd never make it without her.  She was and had been his rudder in stormy seas for over 40 years.  He knew that and suspected she did too.

He continued to muse about George Raccine.  He'd known him for years.  George was a real political machine.  He'd b
r
ought respect and dignity to a state long famous for corrupt politics. 
Raccine
ha
d
done a superb job working with Senator Bonnet and, for the first time in years, the economy of the state was growing.

Adam felt his impatience increasing and he dialed Alex's number for the umpteenth time.  She answered in a sleepy voice on the second ring.

"Where the hell have you been, young lady?  It's after midnight," he said, his voice gruff,
but in a teasing tone.

Alex laughed at his tone.  "Adam, need I remind you that I'm over thirty years old, educated, employed, and living on my own?  I have no keeper?"

"Need I remind you that anytime I'm anywhere close you have a keeper?  Where've you been?"

"Boy, you’re bossy.  For your information, I had a date with a most attractive man."

"Humph, who is he and what does he do.  I'll check him out."

"That's precisely why I'm not telling.  When and if it becomes important, you'll know."  Alex detected the playfulness her grandfather's voice.  She continued,

"Okay,
Granddad
.  What's
up?
  You didn't call to keep tabs on me."

"Hell I didn't.  What's the story on Grace Raccine?  She doing badly?"

Alex tried to remember if she'd heard anything recently about the first lady.  "Not
that I know of.  She's still at CCMC, getting chemo, but is doing all right. Robert did her surgery a few months ago.  Why?"

Adam hesitated.  "Don't know.  Nothing really.  George seemed distracted.  Not on the ball or something.  He seems screwed up, unprepared, I guess.  His aides don't know a damn thing about his plans for the Governor’s conference.  From what I picked up, the administration's going soft, sort of backing down on most important issues.  This i
s a huge
change in strategy. I need George’s support to get
m
y legislation through.   You know if anything is coming down politically in Louisiana?"

"Nope.  Not really.  Hardly keep up with local politics here.  CCMCs politics are all I can handle.  I'll check around and let you know.  Anything else, Adam?"

"Nope.  We on for tomorrow?"

"You bet.  See you at five."

"Love you, Alex.  Nighty-night.

"Love you too,
Granddad
.  Go to bed you impossible, irascible, crotchety old fool and don’t call me back!"

Alex felt her heart swell with love for her grandfather as she hung up the phone.  A teddy-bear in a lions coat she thought.  Others would describe him as a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

***

Mrs. Grace Raccine, the wife of the Governor of Louisiana, was resting comfortably in her VIP suite at CCMC when Kathy Smithson, the evening charge nurse, came in on rounds.  Mrs. Raccine looked up from her book.  "Hello, Dear, isn't it about time for you to go home?"  She smiled gently at Kathy.

"I just wanted to see if there was anything else you needed before I left.  Did you get your sleeping pill?"

"The nurse offered it to me, but I didn't take it.  To tell you the truth, Kathy, I think that's what's been causing these horrible nightmares I've been having the past few nights.  I could've gone home earlier if I'd had been resting better. Sleep always makes a difference
i
n how you feel."

Kathy nodded in agreement. "You're still going home in pretty good time. It takes a long time to recover from abdominal surgery, and then, considering you had that terrible infection, you've done very well.  I'll miss you when you leave."  Kathy smiled.

Mrs. Raccine smiled back, touched Kathy's hand, and said, "I'll miss you too,
dear
.  You and all the other nurses have been good to me.  And, Dr. Bonnet's excellent.  You know, Dr. Bonnet’s father and my husband were childhood friends.  I've known Robert since he was a tyke growing up on St. Charles.  He and my late son were school chums, the best of friends."  Mrs. Raccine paused for a moment, reminiscing and she continued.  "You know, I've never been to CCMC before.  Our family usually goes to Jefferson."  Mrs. Raccine lay back against the covers, tired and weak.  "I don't think I've ever had better nursing care, but I’m tired.  I'm really tired.  I know Dr. Bonnet said it would take time, but I need to feel better before they start the radiation."

Kathy smiled again at Mrs. Raccine and said, "You will.  You'll start feeling better sooner than you think.  Chemo is tough on you and makes you feel really tired.  But, your blood work is looking better tonight.  Get a good night's sleep to get a head start before you go home."

"Thanks, Kathy.  I'll try.  Have a good evening, at least what's left of it.  See you tomorrow." 

Mrs. Raccine
was exhausted by the short conversation and laid back against her pillows.  She was worried about her health, of course, but she was more worried about her husband.  Something was up with George. He was not quite right these days.   He'd been acting strange
ly
for several months. She’d noticed secretive phone calls, cancelled meetings with trusted
advisors, men hanging around the Governor’s Mansion in Baton Rouge she didn’t know as well as a lot of late night meetings in New Orleans.  He was spending less and less time in Baton Rouge and more time here.  Grace continued to consider things.  George seemed to be pushing Andre Renou, his chief aide, aside and that was unusual.  Those two had been joined at the hip for years and George never made decisions without getting Andre
's
take on the issue. She couldn't pin-point anything specific, but she knew something was bothering her husband.  She continued to consider the strange happenings, but it just made her
wearier
.  Finally, she fell asleep.