Half
Jim Evans stood at the doorway of Hartfield Hospital room number 298. In front of him, he saw his wife, spread across a narrow bed and unconscious, as well as two doctors and a nurse. The nurse was the first to speak.
“Mr. Evans, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Drs. Long and Hilliard.”
The men exchanged greetings and hand shakes, and the nurse stepped out of the room.
“Mr. Evans,” Dr. Long began, “Dr. Hilliard and I are pleased to inform you that your wife’s surgery went exceedingly well. She should be back home in approximately two months.”
“Thank you…” Jim began, but he was quickly interrupted by Dr. Long.
“Now, I assure you your wife is in good hands with us. I must tend to other patients, but Dr. Hilliard will be taking care of her.” Dr. Long turned to towards Dr. Hilliard and began to give him instructions. “Dr. Hilliard, please use the utmost care around Mrs. Evans. She is in a very…fragile state.”
“Yes, Doctor, I will…”
“Very well then. Mr. Evans, you are welcome to come and visit your wife at any time.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Jim said, “I’ll visit as often as I can.”
As Jim walked out of the hospital, he was pierced by an overpowering sense of hopelessness; he could feel darkness piercing through him. Having finally reached the parking lot began to think. He knew that his wife, Karen, had been in a car accident, but he didn’t know anything about it – how had it happened?
************
It had been a beautiful August morning. Supplies were running low at the Evans household, so Karen had resolved to go to the grocery store. At first she had thought about taking the children with her, but (thank goodness) she decided she would leave them at home with their father. The trip to the grocery store was, at first, a pleasant one, but with one peculiarity: there was a white SUV that had been adjacent to Karen the entire time. Karen made her best attempt to see who was in the SUV, but the windows were tinted, so it was a fruitless effort.
Suddenly, the SUV swerved into Karen’s lane, knocking her car out of the road, throwing her into a ditch. Karen couldn’t remember anything after this, except the vague image of being lifted out of her car and into an ambulance.
*************
As the weeks crawled along, Jim became increasingly worried about Karen. Sure, the doctors had said that she would be fine, the surgery had gone well, but there was a hideous cloud of doubt wafting in the back of his mind; he could not help but wonder if the doctors were right, if she really was going to be alright.
Jim made certain to visit Karen every day. Sometimes there would be a slight improvement, but overall Jim had not noticed Karen was getting better. Doctor Hilliard, however, begged to differ. He said she was making tremendous improvements and would be home before Jim knew it. For some reason, Jim didn’t trust the doctor – he just didn’t seem…professional.
Of all the times that Jim visited Karen, there was one that stuck in his mind more than any. She was normally very weak, and was doing well to open her eyes, much less speak, but on this occasion, she mustered up the strength to speak.
“S…U…V…………White……Wreck.” And that was all she said.
One day, two months after the wreck, during one of his visits, Jim was greeted by Dr. Hilliard.
“Good morning,” Dr. Hilliard began, “I’m afraid today has not been a good day for Karen. Come with me…I’ll explain.”
Jim was escorted into the same room where all of his visits occurred, but this time it was different, Karen wasn’t there. Both Dr. Long and Dr. Hilliard met Jim in the room.
“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” Dr. Hilliard said, “But your wife passed away this morning. We haven’t found the precise cause of her death yet, but…”
“Dr. Hilliard,” Dr. Long said as he watched tears trickle down Jim’s cheek, “May I see the records of the treatment you’ve given Mrs. Evans?”
“Certainly, Doctor,” Dr. Hilliard said in a choked, nervous voice.
“Doctor, come with me, I must speak with you in private.”
The two doctors walked into a small nearby staff room. Dr. Long was the first to speak.
“Dr. Hilliard, you only gave the patient half the dosage of her medication! That’s why she died!”
“Oh dear…What a terrible mistake on my part,” Dr. Hilliard said earnestly, but with somewhat of a satisfied look on his face. “I don’t think I can handle breaking the news to Mr. Evans. Please, express to him my sincere sympathy…I must go.”
Dr. Long wanted to tell Dr. Hilliard that he couldn’t go, it was his responsibility to tell Mr. Evans of his mistake. For some reason, however, he couldn’t find it in him to do so, and thus he let Dr. Hilliard walk out. Dr. Long wondered, ‘Why would he actually document it if it were intentional…Wouldn’t he try to cover it up? It must have been a mistake…Right?’ Dr. Long was puzzled.
Dr. Hilliard walked out to the parking lot, looked around him, and walked towards his car: a white SUV. The whole ride home, he had a grim smile on his face that simply would not fade.