Cal listened while Maggie explained, this wasn’t the first time she’d been sued. She’d been sued before and even though she’d never lost a suit, never even gone to trial, once the insurance carrier settled, that alone had caused her malpractice insurance rates to skyrocket. There were endless, time-consuming interviews and depositions before a judge just threw out the lawsuit. Even with a lawyer provided by the insurance carrier, on the advice of Walter, Maggie hired her own counsel and the hours invested cost her money, cost the hospital money. The absence of a surgeon was expensive.
This was her third suit in four years and while anyone can sue anyone for anything, it was still more than the average neurosurgeon faced in such a short period of time. The first went nowhere. The second settled early, in the pretrial motions because the plaintiffs took the first offer from the insurance company. This one had legs. Because so many of her colleagues would be deposed or subpoenaed, they were cool toward her. Maybe angry, maybe frightened, maybe just sick of the inconvenience. All of it left her in a toxic work environment.
She was weary, discouraged, lonely and broke.
Maggie had shifted positions so she was leaning up against Cal and they floated aimlessly, talking.
“And yet, I feel robbed,” she said. “I love what I do and I don’t feel I can do it. Every day it’s swimming against the current.”
“You might feel a lot better about that once you’re through this lawsuit.”
“I feel so guilty, walking away like I did. I meant to take a couple of weeks off, then I had Sully on my mind and it stretched out. I don’t mean to paint myself as some kind of savior, but what if people died because I couldn’t step up? After all the years and all the educational funds, I should be more committed, but I ran out of gas.”
“It’s okay to get tired, Maggie. Life’s too short to live with unnecessary pain and frustration. I ran away, too.”
“I plan to testify, to defend myself,” she said.
“If I were your lawyer I would strongly advise against it.”
“Why? I’d tell the absolute truth! I have nothing to hide.”
“The plaintiff’s attorney will hand you your ass. In trial, we never ask a question we don’t know the answer to and we never make a statement that can be convoluted into an exaggeration or change the direction of the case. If I were suing you and you told your side of things, I’d draw attention to your many lawsuits—”
“Not that many! And they were frivolous! Even though the insurance company settled one I never admitted to any guilt! No guilt was ever proven.”
“I would never let you get to that explanation. I’d have the jury believing you’re sued every other week—that you’re incompetent and lack good judgment.”
“But why? What sense would that make? I want to save everyone.”
“As the plaintiff’s attorney, I would convince the jury you shouldn’t practice and that you should be punished by a big settlement. But, if you don’t speak, if you don’t open the door, I wouldn’t be able to lead you down that destructive path. Let your lawyer defend you.”
“It’s outrageous,” she said. “I can’t defend myself, I can’t say anything, I’m paying a fortune for representation and when I win, I can’t sue the plaintiffs for putting me through it. They’re barely existing as it is. They have nothing. The only thing that allows them to bring a suit is a contingency attorney who will either draw a large percentage of their settlement or take nothing as payment. I’m probably going to have to declare bankruptcy and they’re going to walk out of the courtroom with the same assets they brought in. They can afford to sue and I can’t. It is not a level playing field!”
“It is if you don’t hand them anything that can be used against you. You are a highly trained, impressively educated surgeon of sterling reputation with many next-to-impossible saves to your credit. Stand on that. Stand on it silently.”