The Clinic: A Pro-Choice Novel

By Robert C. Jackson M.D.

Kathleen Erickson, M.D. works part time in THE CLINIC caring for young women whose needs range from counseling, to birth control, and to therapeutic abortion.

Kathleen, a 38 year old widow with two children, is a very active pro-choice obstetrician and gynecologist. As such she receives many threats to her life, including a gunshot wound in the middle of the night.

She is sued for malpractice after performing a legal therapeutic abortion. A charge of manslaughter is added when the plaintiffs attorney discovers that all signed permits for the surgery have disappeared.

The major frustration in her life is that of exposing a traitor, a Judas in THE CLINIC, whose hidden aim is to eliminate all abortion clinics by law or bombing.

The final pages disclose this Judas as a most unlikely individual.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 30, 2008
• ISBN: 9781462839971

Robert C. Jackson M.D.

Robert C. Jackson, M.D., F.C.O.G. is a retired specialist in obstetrics and gynecology and lives in Salem, Oregon. Many years in the private practice of his specialty gives him the background and experience to author THE CLINIC. He is closely associated with a lady, an artist, who tolerates his idiosyncrasies and makes life worth living, as do his four children. He has practiced obstetrics and gynecology through the era of criminal charges for anyone who performed abortions. He has also witnessed the legal turmoil before and after the U.S. Supreme Court passed Roe v Wade. The current resurgence of such confusion is possibly due to politics and politicians and has prompted the publication of this novel.

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Copyright © 2008 by Robert C. Jackson, M.D.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

Motivation, as defined by Britannica World Language, is INCENTIVE. Once the will, the desire, has been initiated to author a novel, one needs encouragement, incentive, to continue. Many of my friends have served in this role. First and foremost is Jerry Gross, of Croton-on-Hudson, New York. Jerry is an editor and a book doctor. He is one of the best at suggesting changes to improve a novel. John Williams, former head of the Oregon State Police, has supplied me with names of various police officers still within the ranks. They, in turn have given me specific information on such things as bomb squads and police dogs. And I used Robert Nikkel, a very well informed Oregon State Employee, as the model for a new and important character. Many others have helped and I hope they enjoy the result.

CHAPTER I

There wasn’t much satisfaction today in watching the flames consume the building. Yes, he had accomplished his purpose; he had placed explosives carefully and timed the blast for precisely eleven o’clock at night. This abortion clinic was destroyed. No more innocent babies would die here, but he was not entirely pleased with himself. He was sure no one would be injured at that time of day. But he was wrong; a janitor had been working inside.

Known as the bomber in the Right to Life Organization, this was not his first act of violence for the cause, but his job was to destroy, not to kill. He watched from the safety of a rented car parked a block from the scene and was not happy with the sight of a man running wildly from the building, his clothing completely engulfed with flames.

That man will die, he said as he watched the figure stagger and fall to the street. But praise the Lord; he gave his life so that babies will not be murdered here tomorrow.

He was due at the airport but took time to light his pipe and use a cell phone. All went according to plan, he told the person who answered some three thousand miles away. "But I’m growing tired of the role you have prescribed for me. I don’t want to be known as the Bomber much longer.

He hung up and put his car in gear. He had enjoyed the weather and scenery during his brief stay in Miami, and he knew his efforts would reduce the number of slaughtered babies in this city. But he also knew if no laws were passed to control the abortion business, and if the pro-choice people were allowed to rebuild this clinic, he would be ordered to return and bomb again.

The following day Kathleen Erickson, MD awakened to the splatter of rain on her bedroom window, typical of most any November day in Portland, Oregon. Kathy was a widow, and though she occasionally looked tired from her duties as a physician, she always managed to appear alert and much younger than her thirty-nine years. A drunken driver had killed her husband Jon a year and a half ago, and she was still not quite adjusted to the bed being empty when she got up. Mrs. Fetridge (Auntie) was her live-in housekeeper, and Kathy considered herself very fortunate to have such a lady to help care for her two children, two-year-old Eddie and Julia, almost seven.

This morning, as on every Wednesday morning, she worked a half day at the Free Choice Clinic for Women. She was one of several physicians there who counseled young women who were already in trouble, or trying to prevent any problems related to their pelvic organs, including pregnancy.

The Clinic was located in a two-story brick building, typical of the small factories constructed early in the twentieth century and located in northwest Portland, Oregon. The outside had not changed much in eighty years; but the inside was made over into a modern clinic with office space, exam rooms, diagnostic machinery, and surgical facilities for minor procedures. There was a small lounge for clinic personnel and, as usual, Kathy went there first for a cup of coffee and conversation. The lounge itself was a sparsely furnished place with a table, a coffee pot, and several old chairs. A large bulletin board occupied one of the walls, and official announcements were often posted there along with newspaper clippings describing the activities of the Planned Parenthood Association. It also included the latest news about the antiabortion movement.

Stafford Herrington was already in the lounge when Kathy arrived. They immediately struck up a conversation about the Florida bombing. Dr. Herrington was a tall gray-haired man in his late sixties. The behavior and language of this austere-looking physician was rigidly controlled, even ponderous at times, but he displayed an old-world courtesy to patients and staff. All those in The Clinic thought of him as a classic patrician, and he was Kathy’s favorite. When she first met him he told her that his moral code and early training would not allow him to perform abortions. His work at The Clinic was done, he felt, in the spirit of civic duty; and his wisdom and age allowed him to play a grandfatherly role when counseling teenagers and prescribing needed medication, including birth control pills. When any patient insisted on an abortion, he refused to see her again and asked that she be referred to Kathy.

Kathy understood all this, and though their basic beliefs differed on the subject of abortion, she considered him a courtly and trustworthy friend. Their age difference helped keep them apart socially, but his wife was more of a factor in this schism. Mrs. Herrington served part-time on the administrative staff of The Clinic when she was not traveling throughout the world. Kathy avoided any front-office visits when Cynthia Herrington was there. Her feelings toward Cynthia had always been in complete agreement with those of her late husband. She remembered Jon talking about the fine line of distinction between a woman with a dominant personality and a domineering woman. He could not, and would not, abide the latter.

Cynthia had a slight, but still noticeable, Texas drawl and regularly attended the First Baptist Church in town. She was also independently wealthy. Her educational background included a bachelor’s degree from Harvard, and she none too subtly let that fact be known to all who would listen. She was an enthusiastic supporter of Planned Parenthood’s commitment to population control, but Kathy thought she appeared slightly contemptuous of those who actually performed therapeutic abortions in The Clinic.

Jerry Adams, another clinic physician, came in to the lounge and poured his usual morning coffee. Jerry had all the physical attributes of a minor-league hockey player, which is exactly what he was while growing up in Ontario, Canada. His face bore the scars of many hockey stick encounters, and his short thin hair revealed a scar caused by a fast-flying puck. He was prone to foul language, probably from his days on the rink, but was otherwise a fairly gentle man.

My damn radio wasn’t working very well this morning, so I missed some of the news about that Florida clinic that went up in smoke. The cops have any leads?

Stafford and I were just talking about that, and neither one of us heard anything about ‘a person of interest,’ as the police say. I suspect eventually they will find the Army of God or some other fundamental religious group had something to do with it.

Yeah, maybe. I think it’s gotta be somebody who knows something about the abortion clinics in this country.

At that point, Jerry started to embellish his theory about a Judas, a traitor, but he was gently interrupted by Stafford. Jerry, there is a new, more modern concept of Judas. Some students of the Bible now believe he did not betray Jesus.

I read that stuff too, Stafford. But I’m going to hang on to the original description. Makes more sense when we’re trying to find somebody who blows up abortion clinics.

Barbara Lerner made a brief appearance just to say hello. She greeted the doctors then got a cup of coffee and went down the hall to the office of The Clinic administrator. After Barbara left, Kathy asked Jerry to work on his theory a bit and maybe she could help him some time in the future. But for now, she had work to do in The Clinic.

Jamie Cooper was her first patient of the day. Jamie was accompanied by her mother who remained in the exam room while Kathy conducted a history and physical, including a pelvic exam. When Jamie was getting dressed, Kathy asked Mrs. Cooper how she felt about her daughter being here in The Clinic.

I don’t know what she’s doin’ down here, Mrs. Cooper said before she even sat down in the chair, which Kathy offered. She ain’t been screwin’ around, and I don’t figure she’s gonna be. So why’s she down here being pushed and prodded by you docs?

Kathy’s exam had revealed quite conclusively that the teenager’s vagina was being sexually used on a fairly regular basis, but nothing could be gained by continuing the confrontation initiated by Jamie’s mother. Kathy presumed the teenager was here seeking birth control, but afraid to ask for it in the presence of her mother.

Mrs. Cooper, why do you suppose Jamie asked you to come with her today?

She had to get here somehow, and I figured I’d have to sign some papers ’cause she’s only sixteen. And besides, she’s had some—

I’ll tell you why, Kathy broke in. She could have found her way down here by herself, you know, but she wanted you to share this part of her life. She wanted you to know some things about her, and this was the best way she could find to get you involved.

Mrs. Cooper arched her back away from the chair and glared at Kathy. I think I know enough about her. I don’t think she’s gone and got herself pregnant, and that’s what this clinic’s all about, ain’t it? And I suppose you docs think it’s okay for these kids to be out shackin’ up all the time. Just puts more money in your pockets when they get themselves in trouble.

I didn’t say Jamie was sexually active. And I didn’t say I approve of girls her age ‘shacking up,’ as you say. But, if they are, and they won’t change their ways, I believe in providing them with the best protection that’s available so I don’t have to do an abortion on them the next time they show up.

Wouldn’t let her have an abortion anyway.

So you’d rather see her get pregnant and suffer the consequences?

You tryin’ to tell me my kid’s pregnant, Doc?

No, Mrs. Cooper, I don’t see any signs of pregnancy, and I don’t want to see any until Jamie is older and ready for such responsibility.

Well, what are we talkin’ about then?

Mrs. Cooper, we’re talking about some of the challenges Jamie will face in the next few years. And, if I’m not mistaken, one of those challenges is the possibility of pregnancy. I don’t know, but I strongly suspect one reason your daughter is here in this clinic is to get birth control advice, Mrs. Cooper—and Kathy paused—just saying ‘no’ is simply not an option anymore.

I know what you’re talkin’ about. I don’t want her usin’ birth control pills. Them things are dangerous. She’d be better off with a kid. I’d help her take care of it.

Be careful, Mrs. Cooper. Take care of the kid? How? No school, no decent job, no future. We’re talking about your daughter, your own flesh and blood. She glanced down at the chart in front of her before she continued. I see you have an eighth-grade education, you’re divorced, you’re unemployed, and you’re on welfare. Is that what you want for Jamie?

Her words and attitude stunned the mother. This kind of talk was not anticipated, especially from a woman doctor. She looked at her daughter, and there were tears in her eyes. No, she said. I want her to do better ’n me. But I don’t know if givin’ her birth control pills is gonna help.

Kathy softened her voice. I didn’t say we were going to do that. That might be my advice, yes, but I’ll promise you, Mrs. Cooper, she won’t leave this building with any form of birth control until the staff here has a chance to talk to her. They’ll give her all the information she can handle, pro and con. We’ll also arrange for follow-up visits so she can talk to us and we can talk to her. Does that help?

Mrs. Cooper wiped her eyes and nodded.

Jamie needs you, Mrs. Cooper. She needs a mother, someone she can talk to at home. I’m guessing she thought maybe this visit together down here might help. Suppose I leave you two alone for a few minutes. I’ll send in one of our nurses to describe the various birth control methods, talk about venereal disease, about a lot of things. I’ll write a prescription, leave it here on the desk; and depending on what you want, what you decide, the nurse will handle it from there. Regardless, I’d like to see both of you back here in two months. Kathy smiled at mother and daughter. I hope we can arrange that, she said as she turned and walked out of the room.

Dr. Kathleen Erickson’s position of authority in that room had been achieved by using a bit of discourtesy mixed with understanding and compassion. It was not questioned after she closed the door. As usual, she exercised control by not being subservient to anyone, including her patients. This personality trait was occasionally extended to clinic personnel when she thought it indicated. Dark hair, cut short, and deep blue eyes mirrored her Irish ancestry; and she moved the tall slim body with ease and elegance. She impressed friends, acquaintances, and most patients with an ability to tolerate adversity with charm and a smile. She was self-assured enough to be strongly opinionated, almost abrasive at times, but her demeanor was softened by an absence of arrogance so frequently associated with someone who possessed both beauty and high intelligence. The Coopers were not the first nor would they be the last to experience her power and strength of character.

She dropped off some instructions for the Coopers at the nurse’s station and discovered that her next patient had cancelled, so she walked back to the lounge. It was a slow day at The Clinic, and Dr. Herrington had also returned. Both found that the November 11 bombing was still on their minds.

Another Armistice Day blast, Kathy said. I wonder what it is about November 11 that turns these people on.

Stafford shook his head. It is strange, isn’t it, Kathleen? I thought armistice meant a cessation of hostilities. That Right to Life group must have a different dictionary than I do.

Kathy agreed and mentioned seeing a newspaper article recently that seemed to give halfhearted approval to anyone who would murder a physician that did abortions. The opinion of the writer implied that a dead abortionist or two might have positive side effects.

Stafford frowned and shook his head. I’m surprised that any newspaper would print such an article. In my judgment, that type of writing would only encourage attempts to harm anyone who does abortions. Tell me, Kathleen, have you ever received any threats from abortion foes?

No, not yet.

Not yet! That frightens me. I’d hate to see you get injured, Kathleen. Why don’t you quit doing abortions? You could serve this clinic very well by just advising some of the young people who come in here.

Now, Stafford, you know better than to give me that kind of advice. I do first-term abortions because a lot of kids need them.

And I happen to know that you occasionally go to Catholic services. How can you take communion one day and kill a baby the next?

Stafford, please. We’ve gone through this before. I appreciate that you are here and serve as sort of an elder statesman to some of these teenagers, maybe a father figure whom they feel they can trust. They trust me to take care of their mistakes.

Mistakes that you kill for. I hope you go to confession the same day. It just might save your soul.

No, I don’t go to confession after I do an abortion because I don’t consider it a sin. I consider it a matter of choice these young women make. Now, please, let’s drop it and stay friends.

Jerry Adams walked back into the lounge just then and sensed the tension. What’s going on in here? he asked.

Oh, Stafford asked me if I had ever been threatened because of the abortions I do. I haven’t, but Jon used to have a fit every time there was any rough stuff involving an abortion clinic. How about you?

My ex-wife feels the same as Jon did. She’s afraid her alimony checks will disappear if some damn nut focuses the telescopic sights of his rifle on me. Otherwise, she doesn’t give a rip if I’m dead or alive. And yeah, I’ve been threatened a few times. Some bastard even tossed a rock through my office window last year. But, you know, I get sort of a kick out of them. They’re so damn serious about all this crap.

Mrs. Lerner’s office coffeemaker had failed again, so she returned to the lounge for a refill. Barbara Lerner was a contrast to most businesswomen of her age and era; she was dressed in a skirt and jacket, which looked quite appropriate on her. Her dark hair was in a neat bun, and a flawless complexion required only the bare necessities of makeup. She had been a part of pro-choice activities since shortly after the Roe-Wade Supreme Court decision, and her management skills were legendary.

Kathy was glad to see both Barbara and Jerry. She didn’t like to argue with Stafford. Their disagreements on abortion occasionally reached the point where it threatened their otherwise close relationship. She immediately brought The Clinic manager into a less confrontational subject.

Barbara, what do you make of the bombing in Miami? We were just getting used to the lull in such activities, now this.

Kathy, you may not have recognized it, but I’ve become somewhat philosophical about this business we’re in. And yes, we have been in sort of a quiet period recently. No bombs, and no guns. I just hope the Miami episode is not just the start of more trouble.

Do you have any theories on why we’ve had this peace and quiet recently?

Oh, sort of. I think we are seeing a gradual shift in the politics of sex, especially the teenage variety. Religion dominates our politics now. We have a born-again Christian as a president, you know. There are reports that he is even against birth control. Despite this, or maybe because of it, the teens appear to be in revolt and have become much more sexually promiscuous. We may be up to two million abortions a year pretty soon. You’d think that religious leaders like Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell would promote the destruction of abortion clinics like ours. But, no, there’s less bombing. I think the Far Right politicians are pinning their hopes on a Supreme Court decision to put the abortion issue back in the hands of individual states.

Mrs. Lerner, I think you’re saying that continued political rule by the evangelical Right will make it very difficult for anyone to obtain an abortion except in a few liberal states. So there won’t be very many abortion clinics to destroy. Did I understand you correctly? Stafford asked.

That’s the gist of it, Dr. Herrington. Do you see it any differently?

No, but I do see both good and bad in it.

Barbara, you just did a hell of a good job of muddying up the waters.

Sorry, but that’s the way it is right now. Look at it this way, Jerry. You may be out of a job down here someday, but you won’t have to worry about being killed in a bomb blast or burned up in a fire the likes of which nearly destroyed this place several years ago. Barbara took a final swallow of coffee and went over to the sink to rinse out her cup. And now that I have added a little confusion to your lives, I’m going back to my office.

One