Chapter 16 - THE DOCTOR THEY TRIED TO BLAME
The review panel met the next morning.
Judith arrived with two attorneys.
I arrived alone.
My hospital counsel advised me not to discuss Liam’s history unless directly relevant. The committee was reviewing whether I had crossed an ethical boundary by treating my ex-husband’s child.
The ICU director spoke first.
“Dr. Ellison entered during an active cardiac arrest. She was credentialed, available, and medically qualified.”
Judith’s attorney leaned forward.
“She also had a personal relationship with the family and a clear emotional fixation on the diagnosis.”
Dr. Shah’s expression sharpened.
“The diagnosis was correct.”
“Was Dr. Ellison assigned to the patient?”
“No.”
“Did she have permission from either parent?”
“There was no time to hold a family meeting. The patient was pulseless.”
The attorney turned toward me.
“Would you agree that you resent Mr. Mercer and his mother?”
“I am not required to like a child’s relatives before saving her life.”
One committee member hid a brief smile.
Judith did not.
Her attorney displayed an old photograph of me outside Liam’s funeral.
“After your son’s death, were you treated for depression?”
“Yes.”
“Did you accuse medical personnel of missing symptoms?”
“I requested a review.”
“Did that review find negligence?”
“No, because key medical information had been concealed.”
Judith finally spoke.
“That is an outrageous accusation.”
The committee chair raised a hand.
“Mrs. Mercer, you are not testifying.”
“I will not sit here while this woman rewrites my grandson’s death.”
I looked at her.
“You have spent three years rewriting it.”
The chair called for order.
Then the ICU nurse manager entered carrying a sealed report.
The code review was complete.
Every action I had taken fell within emergency protocol. The timing of the third shock had likely prevented neurological injury.
My administrative leave was lifted immediately.
Judith gathered her papers.
“This hospital will hear from our foundation.”
The committee chair removed his glasses.
“Your foundation does not determine our clinical findings.”
Outside the room, a woman in navy scrubs waited for me.
Her name was Camille Ortiz. She had been the night nurse in the pediatric unit when Liam died.
“I heard they reopened questions about your son,” she said.
My pulse quickened.
“Do you remember him?”
“I remember his grandmother.”
Camille looked down the empty hallway.
“She asked me to remove something from the belongings bag before you arrived.”
May you like
“What?”
“A bottle of cold medicine.”
