Introduction

Chapter One

Of Hospitals, Hope
and Nursing Homes

Scene [1]

Courtroom 1008

Suffolk Superior Court, Boston, Massachusetts
2006/04/04, early Tuesday morning
         I hate courtrooms.  This will be our fifth.  If there was another way to do this, I would take it.  But, this is probably our last best chance to reveal, and maybe do something about, a problem that my fellow Baby-Boomers are about to face.  Millions of people will be blindsided by the medical/legal complex in the next 20 years.

         My wife, Ferne, and I both come from families of stoic, depression-era parents.  They taught us how to live by showing us: be faithful; provide for and protect your children; and keep family problems private.  So, to testify in open court about any part of our lives will be difficult.

         When in court, you are in a different, totally make-believe world.  Any question can be asked, any answer can be questioned.  Explanations of life changing decisions are reduced to debating points.  Only the “players,” the professionals of the system, have control over what happens.  The system works for the system.  Whether plaintiff or defendant, you are merely along for the ride.

         Oh, they need you to get things started.  They need a victim, a defendant and a plaintiff to create a case.  But once created, a case takes on a life of its own.  Dozens of hidden players control what happens; they are the ones who set the agenda and make the rules.

         And rules are now what our case is all about.  Our attorney, Ed Daley, said last week, “Rule number one: don’t be late.  I’m staying in town Monday night so I won’t have to worry about traffic Tuesday morning.  You may want to do the same.”

         Damn, $150 to $200 a night for a week, just to be within walking distance of the court to avoid traffic?  Don’t be ridiculous.  “We took the commuter bus from Londonderry Thursday for a test run to gage the time.  If we add an hour to allow for traffic, we should be fine.”

         Ed frowned.


Bus ride from Londonderry, New Hampshire, to Boston.
2006/04/04 06:40-08:20 Tuesday [Ferne and Don]
         I took a book and tried to read on the trip down, but nerves made that impossible.  The extra hour we had allotted turned out to be necessary.  Heavy rain and lots of traffic took 35 minutes longer than we expected.

         The bus let us off at the corner of Congress and Tremont Streets, three blocks from the courthouse.  Rain, wind, and traffic took us ten minutes to walk there.


Courthouse, Pemberton Square, Boston
2006/04/04 08:30-08:45 Tuesday [Ferne and Don]
         There is a good deli across the plaza from the courthouse.  We picked up two coffees, but my stomach said “no” to food.

         The courthouse is light marble, 15 stories high, built in the art deco era around 1930.  There is a separate door for employees and attorneys at the main entrance.  With all their rolling briefcases, displays, and presentation paraphernalia, it takes them longer to pass security.

         On our way through security, the guard said, “Cell phones must be turned off.”

         “Right.”  I switched it off in front of him.  The last thing I’d want to have happen would be if I was the cause of a distraction during session.  With that in mind, we made bathroom stops, then took the elevator up to the tenth floor.

         We sat on hard oak benches outside courtroom 1008 and waited for Ed.  One of his assistants, Lori, was already there.


Courtroom 1008
2006/04/04 08:45-08:55 Tuesday [Ed, Lori, Ferne and Don]
         Lori pointed out the defendant, Dr. Hasiotis, as he walked by with his counsel... I don't remember ever meeting him.  They sat at the far end of the waiting room.

         Ed arrived at eight forty-five and we discussed what will happen today.  Motions, jury selection, more rules.

         A minute later, the defense attorney walked over to Ed and shook his hand.  They seemed old friends.  It felt a little awkward, but Ed introduced us.  His name was Peter Knight.

         As Knight went back to his client, a tall gray-haired man in a dark suit walked past to the end of the room where the defendant was sitting.  The three men shook hands, chatted briefly, then the third man went into a door marked “Restricted Area.”  Ed said, “That’s our judge, Thomas E. Connolly.”

         At eight fifty-five, Ed held open the courtroom door and said, “Time to go to work.”

         I thought, Eleven years, almost to the day, to finally end this.

         We disposed of our coffee cups and filed into the courtroom.

1995/04/07

Londonderry, NH
18:30-22:00 Friday [Ferne and Don]
         We had learned basic square dance in 1986.  The following year we learned more advanced routines called Plus.  Jerry Maurice had been our caller/instructor, and we had joined his club, the Londonderry Apple Squares, that year.  We became regular supporters of the club's events, which consisted of four home dances per year, six or seven away (raids or retrievals) dances, and a weekly class on Friday night for beginners, which began in September and would finish in May.  The current class was small but lively, and now that they were getting near graduation, they knew most of the calls and were fun to dance with.  We helped out with the class as "angels" who filled in as dancers in beginner squares that didn't have four couples.  That way some of the experienced dancers can help the new ones through the learning process.

         Neil, our 14-year-old son, was at a friend's house for the evening so when we returned after the class, nobody had been home for hours.  There was a note1 taped to the storm door.  It was from the Londonderry Police Department instructing us to call Boston City Hospital concerning our daughter and gave a phone number.  Our daughter?  God, which one, Nina or Renee?


1995/04/07 22:10 Friday [Ferne and Don]
         Ferne made the call.  The switchboard operator asked for a last name and Ferne provided, “Huntemann,” and spelled it.

         A few clicks, a short wait, and a female voice finally answered2, "Fifth floor, CICU".

         The CICU greeting puzzled Ferne at first, then she identified herself and said the Londonderry police had left a message to call about our daughter.  “We have two.  Which is it, Nina or Renee?”

         The nurse said, “Renee is the name on the Emergency Room chart.  But, let me get the resident physician for you...”

         Ferne caught her breath and murmured, “Emergency Room.”

         A moment later a doctor's voice came on the line.

         He identified who he was, then said, “Renee was admitted sometime in the afternoon following a cardiac arrest.  She is in the fifth Cardiac Intensive Care Unit of Boston City Hospital.”

         “Heart attack!  She’s only twenty.”

         “It was probably induced from a drug overdose sometime this morning.”

         “Drugs,” Ferne shrieked and squeezed her eyes shut.

         When she could no longer hold back the sobs, I took the phone and asked about Renee’s prognosis.

         The doctor said, “She is stable now, but in a deep sleep.”

         “What do you mean deep sleep?

         “Coma, deeper than simple sleep.”

         “When will you wake her up?”

         “We have no control of how long the coma will last.  It’s up to her.”

         “Will you need us to be there when she does wake?”  I’ve only been to Boston a few times.  It’s a confusing place.  I never seem to be able to come out the same way I go in.  I made a quick calculation, “It may take us hours to get there.”

         The doctor said, “It’s way too early to know when that will be.  She’s stable and no immediate decisions need to be made right now, but maybe you should come down tomorrow.”

         ‘Immediate decisions.’  Is that what he said?  But, it can wait until tomorrow.

         Just guessing, I figured Boston City Hospital (BCH) was about a two hour drive from Londonderry.  “We can be down sometime after noon.”

         “That would be fine.  We will be doing more tests in the morning.  We should know more then anyway.”

         “Thank you doctor.  Until then, you have our permission to do whatever you think is necessary.”

         He put a nurse back on the line and she provided me with driving instructions.


1995/04/07 22:30 Friday [Ferne and Don]
         We called Nina, our oldest daughter, in Northampton, west of Boston, to inform her.

         “Renee!  Oh boy, what’s she done this time?”

         “She’s in the hospital.  Boston City Hospital.”

         “What?  Why?”

         “Something that happened after an overdose.”

         “Drugs.  Oh, no.  She was just here last week.  We had a great visit.  She was happy... how bad is she?”

         “The doctor said she’s asleep.  In a coma.  We can’t get there until tomorrow.  Can you get over there to see her tonight?”

         “I don’t have wheels, but I’m getting a ride to Boston tomorrow to see Jenna [cousin].  She’s up from Philadelphia visiting friends.  I can go see her in the afternoon.”

         “We’re going down tomorrow after Ferne gets off work.  Can you meet us there around three?”

         “BCH?  Sure.  What room?”

         “They said Cardiac Intensive Care.”

         “Intensive Care!”

         “That’s what the doctor said.  Something about her heart.”

         “Oh, my God....  I can’t get there tonight.  I’ll have to see you tomorrow.”


1995/04/07 23:30-07:00 Friday-Saturday [Ferne and Don]
         We went to bed but sleep eluded us.  So we just held one another and waited for the dawn.  We asked those terrible, unanswerable questions: “Why would Renee have done such a thing?...” and “Maybe when she recovers, will this make her settle down some?...”

         She had been quite a lot to handle as a teenager, a little rebellious, confrontational and not inclined to take any well-intentioned parental advice (not that many teens do).

         “Was this an accident... or otherwise?”


Page count:      9
Word count:    1640

Footnotes
1  LPD Note
    To: CLINTON HUNTEMANN         
    Please contact Boston City Hospital at 617-534-5000, in
    regards to you're daughter.
                              OFF. RAND
                              L.P.D.
                              04/07/95
                              2158 hrs.


2  Call transferred to Helene at 617-534-4421.  She was in the
    Cardiac Intensive Care Unit on the 5th floor (CICU).
    Attending physician: Dr. Bodkia.