Paid to Heal, Injure and Kill

By Thomas Schwab MD

The novel Paid to Heal Injure, and Kill details the unfolding drama of several near simultaneous medical malpractice suits.

When the central Texas town of Oakland flourishes with rapid growth, a large medical corporation builds a new hospital there. The ambitious administrator does everything possible to lure new physicians to help the facility generate profits. Ethics erode in this greed-driven environment as bonds of deceit are fostered through hunting and fishing trips, lavish dinner entertainments, and expensive hotel conferences, all sponsored by pharmaceutical companies or medical corporations. Meanwhile, many suffering patients and their families pay with bodily injury, emotional pain, and in some cases death. The young and vulnerable Allison Presley brings her baby boy to Dr. Williams, who performs an unnecessary surgical procedure on the child resulting in his death. At about the same time, thirty-five year old Dorothy Gonzales awakes to permanent blindness resulting from two incompetently performed pituitary surgeries at the hands of Dr. Nelson. As the two patients realize they have entrusted unworthy physicians, they seek the services of two attorneys from the same law firm. These men demand the powerful doctors and the supporting entities make appropriate monetary reparations.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 30, 2009
• ISBN: 9780595635108

Thomas Schwab MD

Thomas Schwab received his medical degree in 1965. For 35 years, he cared for the physical and emotional well being of patients in a variety of government and private settings. This exposed him to many different providers, some deeply dedicated and others driven by personal financial greed.

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Contents

Acknowledgment

Dedication

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

After Word

About the Author

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ACKNOWLEDGMENT

It is with considerable gratitude that I acknowledge the fine editing work done by Mr. Frederick Bryan in the creation of this novel. As English is not my native language, Mr. Bryan’s services have proven critical in honing and refining the grammar and phrasing throughout this work. His participation has rendered this novel easy to read, and this author greatly appreciates his many hours of insightful input and patient dedication.

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DEDICATION

Closing towards the celebration of the golden anniversary of my marriage, I dedicate this book to my wife Mira, whom I love very much. In addition to being my wife for almost fifty years, she has always been my best friend while unselfishly, and with motherly love, she raised our two children, always providing them with moral and ethical guidance. She taught them about right and wrong while I was ceaselessly busy trying to heal those who needed my services. Now looking at our offspring, we decorate ourselves daily with pride of their life achievements, and we feel especially blessed with our five wonderful grandchildren, all of them intellectually gifted and vibrant in the full bloom of their uniqueness. So, dear Mira, with this dedication, I declare that you have always been the source of all for me; with you at my side, I have always been able to find and to keep true happiness. Our being together continues to be the source of all for me. For all these years, we have walked this path of life together, holding each other’s hand, traveling the byways of our yesterdays and our present days. And here we are still, striding together on our path into tomorrow, ever nearing the beautiful hills of our sunset days.

With much love and affection,

Thomas

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INTRODUCTION

This book is based on true occurrences gathered over the many years of my experience as a physician. Some of these events happened near to me; others came to my attention through my review of medical records while I was working as a private consultant, contracted by various medical agencies and legal firms to evaluate the medical care provided in certain cases and specific settings. While the characters in this book are fictional, and the place names and circumstances are largely altered, everything herein derives from factual combinations of personalities, individuals, and events. I have done my utmost to conceal identities, settings, and situations. Therefore, any similarity to known persons, locations, or occurrences is purely coincidental.

My motivation for writing this book is grounded in ethical concerns about the current state of the medical profession. I have personally witnessed some individuals in the medical field who have intentionally wielded the power of their positions, directly and ruthlessly, over the innocent who are dependent upon them, for the sole purpose of financial gain. Not only does such behavior cost innocent people money, time, and life value in unnecessary procedures, but it also tarnishes the integrity of the medical field in general and hurts the many dedicated, hard-working, highly ethical providers therein. It is not my intent, in presenting persons of questionable ethics, to denigrate or otherwise demonize these many committed professionals. We are aware of their heroic efforts to save lives and to heal the sick and wounded, and we acknowledge that they are always available somewhere there, waiting to assist us in our time of need.

There are many books, movies, and television shows that portray such medical heroes and offer consumers glorified images of these healthcare providers. Look to these other sources if you seek such glorified symbolic figures, since you will not find them within the pages of this book. I felt compelled to offer readers another side of the realities of the profession. In fact, in my experience there are many forces within the circle of medical providers that knowingly conceal instances of negligence and malpractice that result in bodily injury or death. The thrust of this book, then, is to unveil those providers who lack any form of ethics, altruism, or compassion in their work, who are driven primarily by financial greed.

In the early stages of creating this work, I encountered the advice of a woman who knew far more about writing books than I do. She told me that I would need to find a ‘good hero,’ someone who fights all that bad stuff in medicine. This, she claimed, was how novels should be written. This was especially so, she said, if I wanted people to read the book. She concluded that, novels are not written with the absence of any goodness within them. I chose not to take her advice, and wrote this book without the creation of such a hero, since, in reality, at least as I know it, there are few heroes in the court cases and battles involving malpractice and medical negligence. In fact, I have found that no one will stand to fight the system unless, sadly, serious injury or death has already occurred. Only then will the legal system carry on with the battle on behalf of those who have been harmed. Almost invariably, the lawyers who engage in these struggles are interested primarily in their own personal gain.

Our medical system has been described by many as second to none, as the best in the world. To an outsider, our medical system may look like a ‘garden of roses,’ but read this novel and be reminded that within any garden of roses one inevitably finds some thorns beneath the flowers. It is my intention that readers of this novel will exercise greater caution in reaching out to providers when seeking medical services for themselves and their loved ones.

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CHAPTER ONE

In the late morning hours of the first Monday in August, dark clouds swirled over the downtown buildings of Austin, Texas, arcing over them like a huge black umbrella. A single bolt of lightning struck a high-rise just as a heavy rain began to pour. On the 30th floor of the Frost Bank Tower, a petite curly-headed blond in her early twenties emerged from an elevator with her face flushed from hurrying. Thunder rattled the building as she ran her hand through her hair, adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder, and then looked both to the left and the right, down the long corridor. A few quick steps forward brought her directly before a large glass door emblazoned with bronze letters: Law Offices of Stein and Wagner, LLP. She saw herself partially reflected in the door as she strode forward, pushed it open resolutely, and walked into the office.

From the large, cherry-wood desk, a cheery brunet receptionist gave the newcomer a welcoming smile.

Good morning. I think I’m on time, said the petite blond, I’m Allison Presley. I have an eleven o’clock appointment with Mr. Wagner.

Yes Mrs. Presley, just have a seat, and I’ll let Mr. Wagner know you’re here. The receptionist motioned to the large brown leather sofa and sumptuous matching golden velvet chairs adorning the waiting room. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, Allison sat in the chair closest to the door as the receptionist continued talking.

How was driving in this terrible weather?

I drove through rain most of the morning. The traffic has been awful. I was afraid I would be late getting here. I’m so glad I made it on time.

A ringing phone cut into Allison’s last words. As the receptionist answered the call, Allison settled even more deeply back into her seat and surveyed the expansive elegance of the waiting room around her. She noticed herself feeling calm for the first time all that morning. Gradually, her attention turned to the side table on her left where she saw a large bronze sculpture of a lion’s head charging out of an open book. The engraved plaque below it read: HIS MAJESTY JUSTICE. She thought to herself that the art piece must represent some kind of law book guarded by this ferocious lion’s head.

On the opposite side of the room stood an ornately carved cabinet loaded with law books. Allison felt again the impressive quality of the whole waiting room. Prior to making an appointment with this law firm, she had met with her local attorney, Mr. Charles Nolley. He had referred her here, telling her that the partners of this law firm were both very well respected and very successful in handling medical malpractice lawsuits. He had given her a brochure about the firm with a list of verdicts and settlements they had made in the millions of dollars. On the first pages of the brochure, the partner’s photographs, printed in color, smiled confidently from the glossy paper. She knew she would recognize the lawyers when she met them. Allison suddenly became again uneasy, wondering how she would be able to afford lawyers of this caliber.

Finally, the receptionist finished her phone conversation, leaned toward an elegant intercom box on her desk, and announced that Mrs. Presley had arrived for her appointment. Immediately the phone rang again, and she was again occupied with a caller.

Allison looked around and saw the time displayed on the wall above and behind the receptionist’s desk: 10:55. And though she could clearly see the second’s hand moving, she could not see an actual clock there on the wall. She had never seen anything like this before, the time displayed on a wall without having an actual clock there. Then, turning her head to the opposite side, she saw a small light projecting from the wall just above the entry door. And she suddenly wondered at the strangeness of time.

Here she sat, on this particular Monday morning, at nearly eleven o’clock, in the capital city of Texas, in this opulent setting, suddenly struck with the series of occurrences that had brought her to this place. She was unemployed and without any job prospects since she had quit working at Burger King, where she had worked for minimum wage until she’d found out about her pregnancy. Her husband of two years, James, had been working on an offshore oilrig in the Gulf of Mexico. And though his work took him away from her for weeks at a time, at least he had made good money. His visits home usually lasted at most two weeks, and those were good times.

She recalled the day James had learned of her pregnancy, how excited he’d grown with the news that he would be a father, and how he had told her that he did not want her to work any longer.

No, you are not going to work anymore. You need to take care of yourself and that baby you’re carrying now. Allison had agreed, and so she had quit her job.

Thanks to James’ salary, and the bit of money she had made, they’d been able to save just enough for the down payment on a cozy two-bedroom house. And since moving in, Allison spent almost all of her time decorating the new home. James kept working on the oilrig and making plans for the baby and for the future of their family.

But then came that Sunday morning, six months into her pregnancy, when Allison’s dreams crumbled into nightmare. She had been waiting for James to return home from his night of fishing at a nearby lake, something he did almost every time he had a break from the rig. As he had promised to return home by 7 a.m., Allison was ready with a hot breakfast waiting for him to come with his catch of fish. When he did not show up by 8 o’clock, she became concerned that his car battery might have died or that he may have had a flat tire on the way home. She had waited and worried, and then busied herself to avoid the worrying. Close to 9 o’clock, she grew very agitated and even considered calling the police. Then the doorbell rang, and she’d rushed to the door hoping to find her husband there. Hurriedly turning the lock and the handle, she’d flung the door open. A sheriff’s deputy stood on the threshold. In an instant, Allison knew that something was very wrong.

Are you Mrs. Presley? the deputy asked.

Yes, she tried to say, but the emotions seized her throat and twisted the word into a gasp.

Mrs. Presley, there was a bad accident early this morning. Your husband lost control of his car and hit a tree. The impact caused his car to turn over and roll down into a ditch.

Is he okay? Is my husband okay? She barely managed to choke the words free.

I’m sorry to have to tell you this, m’am, but your husband is dead. Allison could feel her heart racing, could feel the blood draining from her head. She steadied herself in the doorway.

Are you alright m’am? asked the deputy. Is there someone you can call?"

Yes, she barely whispered, gripping the door for support. I think I’m okay…. Yes, I can call my mom.

A few days after the funeral, Allison had learned that autopsy findings showed that James had died instantly from a fracture of his skull. There was no trace of either drugs or alcohol found in his blood, something that she already knew would be true of her husband.

Mrs. Presley? The voice startled Allison from her thoughts about the accident and James’ funeral. My name is Mary Grace. Allison looked up into the soft eyes of the tall slender woman standing in front of her, obviously a law firm employee.

Will you please follow me? said Mary Grace. She waited as Allison rose from her chair and her reverie, then turned and led Allison down the hall. Soon they entered a large room. This is our conference room. Please take a seat here, offered Mary Grace, gesturing to one of the leatherback chairs surrounding the long mahogany table. Still unsure of herself from the lingering feelings of her reverie, Allison gradually moved forward. Taking hold of the back of the chair, she felt it pull away from the table with remarkable ease and marveled at the richness of the upholstering as she sank into the leather seat.

May I get you something to drink, Mrs. Presley? Coffee or tea, perhaps?

No thank you, I’m fine.

Mr. Wagner will be in to meet with you in a few minutes. Allison looked up and nodded in acknowledgment as Mary Grace turned to leave, closing the door quietly behind her.

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CHAPTER TWO

"Mrs. Gonzales,