The Unkindest Cut

By Stephen R. Fahey M.D.

It is a cold day in December 1985 when ten-year-old Christy Piper makes the fateful decision to hop onto a Flexible Flyer and sled down Bonnell’s Hill. Seconds later, she spins out helplessly and the old wooden sled flips over, throwing Christy into a concrete gatepost with a sickening thud.

When she arrives in the ER, Christy is attended to by Nick Fletcher, a cocky resident who carries himself with the poise of a seasoned physician. After he stitches her up and prepares her discharge papers, he assures the supervising surgeon that he has followed all the appropriate protocols. But after Christy is raced back to the E.R. by her frantic parents a short time later, she undergoes emergency surgery that leads to fatal complications. Now, nothing will stop her distraught father, Wally, from embarking on a vengeful journey to make someone suffer for the deadly error.

In this exciting medical thriller, a fatal mistake in the operating room kills a ten-year-old girl and sends her father on a determined mission to seek revenge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Jan 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9781665734943

Stephen R. Fahey M.D.

Dr. Fahey graduated from Dartmouth College and Harvard Medical School. After Surgical Residency at Georgetown, he practiced Emergency Medicine and served as a Team Physician with the University of Maryland for thirty years. He enjoys tennis and birdwatching, and lives with his wife, Ann, and their Shih-tzu, Elvis in the Maryland suburbs.

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Copyright © 2023 Stephen R. Fahey, M.D.

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-6657-3493-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-3494-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022922816

Archway Publishing rev. date: 01/06/2023

CONTENTS

December 1985

April 1986

Epilogue

About the Author

for Mom and Ann,

who got me this far

DECEMBER

1985

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On a clear winter day, you could look through the leafless oaks atop Bonnell’s Hill in North Arlington’s fashionable Country Club Hills section and see clear to the Capitol. A century earlier, this had been the site of one of the thirty-odd Civil War lookouts that encircled the Capitol. The Bonnell House, which topped the hill, was one of the few Arlington estates that had not yet been fractionated by developers. In summer, with its magnificent view, it was a popular lovers’ tryst by night and picnic grounds by day. But in winter, Bonnell’s Hill was for sledding.

On the spacious front patio, half a dozen teenage daredevils in down vests and Levis jostled for rights to the next sledding run. From the top to Vista Road, a hundred yards below, Bonnell’s Hill was separated into three tiers by level terraces, which were elegantly planted walkways in the summer. On the gentle lowest slope, parents anxiously loaded their toddlers onto plastic flying saucers. Grade-schoolers in colorful snowsuits pulled their sleds up to the second level for a faster ride. Even from this height, it took a responsive sled and judicious foot-dragging to negotiate the sharply banked turn that led into the runoff area—a small parking lot off Vista Road. Only the older kids, almost all boys and almost all junior high school age, even considered taking Bonnell’s Hill from the top. Sleds were not very high on most twelve-year-olds’ Christmas lists in the 1980s, and six youths now shared a five-foot Flexible Flyer and a twenty-year-old Northland relic that someone’s sentimental father had rebuilt in his basement. Those whose turns seemed never to come appeared more relieved than disappointed to the apple-cheeked ten-year-old girl who waited with them, holding her own battered sled.

Hey, Christy, you’re third up! Don’t be afraid, encouraged Maxie Wise, her next-door neighbor, as he gladly relinquished his place in line to the precocious fourth grader.

Classes at Jamestown Elementary and all Arlington public schools had been suspended at noon on this snowy Friday in early December, but sledding had been the last thing on Christy Piper’s mind when she had slogged down Columbus Street toward home. Daddy had promised that he, too, would be coming home early—to take the family to the circus! Christy loved this annual ritual and looked forward to riding the metro all the way to the DC Armory with Mom, Daddy, and her younger brother, Herbie. Daddy’s buddy Vic Klecko would be dropping them off at Ballston station in his Minuteman cab. The early dismissal was very timely, as her father always insisted on attending the early show to avoid arriving downtown after dark, and Christy hated having to rush. Now she could change leisurely into fancy clothes, cover her bed with circus memorabilia, and flip through the programs she had saved from the previous five years’ shows. She hoped the real Gunther might be there this year and wondered if Daddy would buy her a Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey felt pennant. Last year, he forgot to cash his paycheck or something, and the program had been her only souvenir. She had just one space to fill on her bedroom wall, and a blue felt pennant would do just fine.

Christy’s afternoon reverie had been interrupted when Mom and Herbie appeared in her doorway. Daddy called again, Mom announced glumly. It seems he has to go to––

Christy didn’t have to hear any more. First it had been the summer camp vacation that he failed to deliver. Then last year, he had forgotten her birthday. Christmas this year was to be scaled down due to economic fluctuations, but even her Weekly Reader promised Christy that it would be the healthiest Christmas in years for the real estate industry. She had tried to believe her mother’s explanations for these past letdowns, but this one was too much.

Chagrined though she was, Christy was not one to mope. Her mother dealt with disappointment by going to the market or doing her housework with extra vigor. Christy had also learned to bury her hurt in physical activity. And on a day like this, what better place to get over her unhappiness than Bonnell’s Hill?

Christy had a minute to watch Maxie’s older brother Leonard hurtle down the slope ahead of her. She studied how he handled the terrain and figured she would take the same route. Lenny sailed off the first terrace, caught his balance just in time to shoot through a pair of bushy junipers at the bottom of the second section, and steered into the saucer-ridden hard-packed chute at the bottom. He leaned hard into the last turn, dragging his boots only briefly as he breathlessly careened through the gate and into the runout.

A rugged boy who Christy recognized from last year’s sixth grade class went after Lenny, following the same course—albeit a bit more slowly. He also narrowly missed the gateposts of the fence that separated the parking lot from the Bonnell property. Now it was Christy’s turn. The boys had only seen one girl take Bonnell’s Hill from the top, but this sturdy fourth grader looked confident enough to become the second.

Psst, Eric. Maxie nudged his companion. D’ya think she can handle this? Yeah, I think so. She’s a pretty tough kid.

Still uneasy, Maxie shouted a last warning to the already moving girl. If you get scared, just drag your feet and roll off.

But she was long gone. She took the first terrace in great form, even though it tossed her little sled like a ski-jump. The middle section was clear sailing. As she picked up speed on the shade-hardened lower stretch, though, Christy’s runners started to shake. She tightened her grip. Thoughts of the circus had long since passed. The bushes flew by, merging into a great green blur. Her rubber boots dug for traction on the crusty surface. Looming large ahead, the gateposts wobbled in and out of focus as the cold air stung her cheeks and filled her eyes with tears. Christy tried harder to slow down, but neither steel nor rubber gripped the icy slope as they had for the bigger kids. Once the inevitable skid began, she spun out helplessly. The old wooden sled splintered and flipped over, throwing Christy into the concrete gatepost with a sickening thud.

In an instant, parents and sledders surrounded the moaning child. An angry red stain crawled across her ski cap as she slowly rose from the wreck, holding her left side and wincing in pain. Two elderly neighbors, who had just arrived to watch the children play, recognized Christy and took charge. They saw no reason to peek under her hat. She obviously needed a doctor. They led Christy to their station wagon and laid her down gingerly in the back seat. Taking a brief detour, they picked up a shocked Mrs. Piper and brought them to the emergency room at Arlington Memorial Hospital.

Supported by her mom and the kindly neighbors, Christy stumbled to the triage desk, which filled the entrance alcove. It was the duty of the triage nurses to quickly separate the walking wounded from the worried well so that the most critical patients might be seen first. Memorial’s head nurse, Mary Ann Mulcahy, was manning the station tonight, and instinct alone told her that this shivering child could not be kept waiting.

Mrs. Mulcahy elicited a quick description of the sledding mishap and then asked Christy where she was hurting. She recorded the girl’s complaints of pain in the forehead, flank, and left shoulder. The ominous stain on Christy’s cap had stopped growing, but the nurse was still concerned. She palpated the girl’s pulse at the wrist while calmly addressing her mother. As you can see, Mrs. Piper, there’s quite a bit of blood there, and it sounds like she had a pretty good collision. I want to take her back and have the doctors check her out right away. You’ll have to stay here a minute and give some information to the admitting clerk. We’ll keep you informed. She motioned the three adults toward the desk behind her. Rachel, get a chart started on this patient. And an admission profile too. Put her on Steve Larsen’s service. I’m going to have the surgical resident go over her first.

Natalie Piper hugged her daughter and reassured her that she would be waiting just outside. She fumbled in her purse for insurance cards as Mary Ann helped Christy into a wheelchair. Only when the nurse’s back was turned to Mrs. Piper’s did her expression fully betray the concern she felt for her daughter.

And, Rachel, show Mom to the waiting area after you’re through, Mary Ann added as she wheeled Christy through the automatic doors and into the treatment area.

~

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"… So the next week, the same city slicker comes up and says to the farmer, ‘You mind if I go and gather some honey from that