Bad News From Home

I was contemplating a post on Erskine Bowles today, but late yesterday afternoon I got some bad news from home . . . bad news of the heartbreaking kind.

It is the kind of news that always makes me ponder the what-if’s and coulda-shoulda-wouldas of my situation . . . roads taken . . . and not. But then again, I was pretty much navigating uncharted territory without a map. And in a matter of right and wrong, I was on the wrongest end of wrong.

Eight years ago, I went from being a respected member of the Asheboro medical community to persona non-gratis in a matter of five days. My world was turned upside down and personal/professional relationships irrevocably changed. There were no "good-bye & good-luck" parties or cudos for a job well done . . . I was just thrown out on the street . . . after I had done the right thing. For months, many of my patients believed I must have done something awful, or worse, had abandoned them. My close colleagues were virtually powerless to help me – and those who did have the power looked the other way. I was in a “Catch-22” situation . . . a professional black hole. RMA/Randolph Hospital had ignored the practice's obligations as an approved National Health Service Corps site (easy to do when the government does not step in to enforce its own agreement) . . . and hospital executive/lawyers had creatively interpreted my employment contract in such a fashion that my salary was held over my head like a weapon. If I opened my mouth publicly about what had really happened, they threatened termination “for cause” (something that doesn’t look so hot on a Curriculum Vitae). And the simple fact is, I had to pay the mortgage. So I waited them out. It was the worst and loneliest six months of my life.

The news yesterday speaks to one of the relationships that fell by the wayside . . . and the absolute worst part of this ordeal. My Mother’s greatest concern over the years, as I pursued Locums Tenens work (while I fought what Randolph Hosptial executives, Bob Morrison and Steven Eblin had done) was that I was seeing a lot of the worst of medicine – and not getting the opportunity to develop the close long-term personal and professional relationships that feed the soul.

She’s right, of course. But I also have to sleep at night - and look at myself in the mirror. I cannot abide liars and cheats. There has been nothing else I could do but fight.

Bad news of this kind almost always includes social gatherings – gatherings that I have avoided over the years so as not to (1) encounter those who did me wrong and (2) make those who might be caught in the crossfire uncomfortable. I am not a social animal anyway – never have been (it's an ADD thing). Noise and crowds are unsettling - and I can only tolerate these things in small doses. Likewise, I don’t do the Country Club scene. Last year was a bit of an exception, an “annis horribilis” if there ever was one . . . as I lost a dear professional mentor . . . then my Dad . . . and then several of the high-school “YaYa’s” (of which I am “Queen”) lost parents in rapid succession. It seemed like very time I turned around, there was another funeral of someone I had grown up with and loved/cherished. My house became Grand Central Station – a gathering place for all of us when bad things happened (I am so glad I've been able to hang on to it). And on those occasions I have been surrounded by family and close friends.

On the other hand, when I do attend something of that nature – to pay respects or offer sympathies to those with whom I am not as close, often people do not know what to say or do . . . some cannot even look me in the eye. Others gawk. My presence in a room is sometimes palpable/polarizing - and I often feel as if a scarlet letter is on my chest. It is awfully uncomfortable for everybody. So I wind up sending condolences through others – or fall back on the tried & true card or letter.

I expect that is what I will do tonight when I get home . . . and light a candle for a boy I used to know.

I believe these "lights" don't go out. They just move up.