Chapter 2 - THE HOSPITAL VISIT SARAH NEVER REMEMBERED
Ethan did not confront Marlene alone.
He called his sister, Rebecca, to come stay with Lily.
Then he called Sarah’s physician.
Not Marlene.
Not the hospital front desk.
Dr. Priya Shah had been Sarah’s primary-care doctor for six years.
She listened carefully.
“Ethan, I can’t discuss Sarah’s protected information without her authorization.”
“I understand.”
“But if you believe there’s an immediate medication safety issue, bring the actual medications and any paperwork to the emergency department.”
Ethan did.
Marlene followed him downstairs.
“You’re making this ridiculous.”
“You’re not coming.”
Her face hardened.
“Sarah asked me to handle her medical affairs.”
“Did she?”
Ethan held up the eight-month-old evaluation request.
“Then Sarah can tell me herself.”
Marlene reached for the paper.
Ethan moved it away.
“Don’t.”
She stared at him.
“You think you know my daughter better than I do?”
Ethan almost answered.
Then stopped.
“This isn’t a contest.”
He left.
Sarah was awake when he reached Riverside Memorial.
Pale.
Exhausted.
Angry.
That reassured him.
“Where’s Lily?”
“With Rebecca.”
“Why?”
Ethan sat beside the bed.
“I need to show you something.”
He gave her the hospital paper.
Sarah read slowly.
Her face changed.
“Where did you get this?”
“Your mother’s purse.”
Sarah looked up sharply.
“Why were you in her purse?”
“Because Lily told me to check it.”
Sarah’s expression tightened.
“What happened?”
Ethan explained only enough.
Marlene.
Lily crying.
The purse.
The papers.
Sarah covered her mouth.
“She put her hands on Lily?”
“I got there before anything worse happened.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
“I’m going home.”
“Not yet.”
“Ethan.”
“You fainted yesterday.”
“I didn’t faint.”
“The hospital called it altered consciousness.”
Sarah looked irritated.
“Because Mom told them I was confused.”
Ethan stopped.
“What?”
Sarah rubbed her forehead.
“I remember almost everything.”
She had been making dinner.
Marlene arrived with soup.
Sarah drank tea.
Twenty minutes later she felt dizzy.
Then nauseated.
Then unusually sleepy.
Marlene insisted Sarah was “slurring.”
Ethan had been on a work call in the garage.
By the time he came inside, paramedics were already there.
“Mom told them I’d mixed up my medication.”
“Did you?”
Sarah looked at him.
“No.”
Ethan felt cold.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Old fear entered her face.
“I think.”
Ethan hated that second sentence.
Sarah had spent the last year becoming less certain about things she used to know.
Appointments.
Bills.
Whether she locked doors.
Whether she took medication.
Marlene had started “helping.”
Ethan had been grateful.
“What is that evaluation request?” he asked.
Sarah looked at it.
“I don’t know.”
The date corresponded to a weekend Ethan had been in Cleveland for work.
Sarah remembered Marlene staying over.
“Mom said I had a panic attack.”
“Did you?”
Sarah hesitated.
“I got upset.”
“Why?”
“Because she kept telling me I’d forgotten a conversation we never had.”
Ethan sat very still.
Sarah continued.
“Then she took me to urgent care.”
“Behavioral health?”
“No. Regular urgent care.”
Ethan looked at the paper.
A formal evaluation request.
Eight months old.
Sarah had never seen it.
A nurse entered.
Ethan asked Sarah if she wanted him to request a medication reconciliation and toxicology review through the treating team.
Sarah nodded.
It felt strange asking.
Necessary.
Hours later, preliminary testing showed something unexpected.
Sarah had more sedative medication in her system than her prescription schedule should have produced.
Not a lethal amount.
Enough to explain why she became so impaired.
Sarah stared at Ethan.
“I did not take extra.”
Ethan believed her.
May you like
For the first time, belief itself was not enough.
They needed to find out who had been managing the pills Marlene kept insisting Sarah could no longer manage herself.
