Chapter 4: The Surgeon in the Lobby

On Monday morning I stood in the lobby of St. Anne's at seven twenty, with my phone in my coat pocket and the record button already pressed.

Carl stood beside me with his hands in his jacket.

He had read the form on Friday, and he had not said a word about it since.

He had driven me here anyway.

"You don't have to be in this," I said.

"My sister's chart has your name on a lie. I'm in it."

That was all he said, and it was enough.

The surgeon came through the revolving door at seven thirty-one with a travel mug and a gray braid down her back.

I knew her face from Thursday morning.

She had stood at the foot of my bed, very briefly, and said the word complications and left.

"Doctor," I said.

She looked at me.

She was a tall woman, and I watched her place my face and then pretend she hadn't.

"Mrs. Whitfield. You should be resting."

"I'd like five minutes. Here is fine."

"There's a patient liaison on two. She can..."

"I'd like you to tell me who authorized the surgery on Tuesday night."

The lobby was busy.

A man with a cane stopped.

Two nurses with coffee stopped, then a woman with a toddler on her hip, then the volunteer at the gift cart.

The doctor lowered her voice.

"Your husband did. As your health care proxy."

"I was alive and breathing in that ER, Doctor. Nobody asked me anything."

"You were in significant pain. You were sedated before the consult, and you were not able to..."

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