the good doctor

Dr. Julius Walker peers through the peephole in his front door, and he sees a young man with a briefcase and a middle aged gentleman wearing a tweed jacket and a bushy beard. He lets them in.

The young man speaks first.

“I assume my assistant called you earlier this afternoon to tell you we were coming, correct?”

“Er, well…no. Not as such,”

“Ah, I see. Is there somewhere we could sit and talk, maybe a parlor?”

Julius Walker leads them to his living room and takes their coats. The bearded man admires a 15th century bust of Zeus while the young man pulls several binders and notebooks from his briefcase. The doctor offers them drinks; the young man asks for a soda and the bearded man asks for a scotch-on-the-rocks. It doesn’t take long for the doctor to come back from the kitchen holding a tray of drinks.

“Let me introduce myself, Dr. Walker,” the young man says, “My name is Jack Summers, and I’m the assistant to the president of D’Starkville Psychiatric. She tells me you’re friends, correct?”

“Oh yes, Claudia and I have a long history.”

“Indeed. This man with me is Danforth Hunter, a consultant we’ve hired for a project we’re working on. Tell me, Doctor, are you familiar with JCAHO?”

“Yeah, they’re the organization who sends people to hospitals every year to make sure they’re up to par in terms of patient care and records and so forth.”

“You’re correct. Well, in order to assure that we earn high ratings every year from JCAHO, we need to make our own assessment of the treatment people are receiving at D-Psych, as we call it.”

“That seems reasonable enough, but what does it have to do with me? I don’t work at your hospital.”

“Exactly. Every few months we send a ‘decoy patient’ into our psychiatric ER and have them fill out a report afterwards to see how our staff is measuring up. We came to you because you’re respected in the medical community, and because Claudia thought this might be something you’d like to do. Are you with me so far?”

“You want me to go into your psych ER with a complaint and pretend to be a patient. What exactly would I have to do?”

“Well, the first thing I should explain is that none of our staff are to know that you’re faking. I have a detailed list here of symptoms for you to fake, and key lines you can say to push the doctors in the direction of the diagnosis you’re shooting for. I’m assuming you know what a 302 is, or am I mistaken?”

“It’s a legal procedure where the county determines you must remain in the hospital for 72 hours, or sometimes longer. Hold on for just a minute, I’ve got to freshen my drink. Do either of you need another one? No? I’ll be right back.”

The doctor leaves them for a moment, and the ever-silent Danforth makes eye contact with the young man for just a second before taking a deep draw of his scotch. Ice cubes rattle in the kitchen, and the décor shows the distinct lack of a woman’s influence. The young professional nods with approval at a framed sketch bearing the signature of an artist named Bosch.

 
The good doctor returns.

“So, Danforth is it? What’s your role in all this?”

The young man answers for him, “As I said, Danforth is our outside consultant. He’s going to petition for your 302, as your nephew. We’ve already contacted the county and the police, and they’ve agreed to help us stage this farce. Here’s how it goes down: after I leave, you’ll have a few more drinks and Danforth will coach you on acting drunk and rowdy.

Eventually, when you’re ready, Danforth will notify the police that we’re ready to have you picked up and you’ll be taken to the hospital in a police cruiser. Are you with me so far?”

“Oh yes, keep going.”

“Once you arrive at the hospital, you will curse at the staff and be slightly disruptive, but still mildly cooperative. Remember, they have to believe that you’re there against your will. Danforth’s role will be to fill out the complaint against you and to tell the staff you’re threatening to kill him, kill yourself, et cetera. He’s going to pretend to be your nephew, so keep that in mind. Finally, once the evaluation is complete, Claudia and I will arrive to inform the nurses and doctors that this was a staged test and I will bring you home.”

“I don’t know about this. I mean, you seem like you want to do this tonight and I’m supposed to meet some friends later. Is there any compensation?”

“Ah, yes, of course. You will be paid twenty-five hundred dollars in the form of a cashier’s check, which I have right here and will give you upon receipt of all the paperwork.”

The doctor examines the check and hands it back to the young man.

“It sounds as if it might be fun. Let’s get started.”

Now it’s 2am. The good doctor sits in the corner of Seclusion Room #2.  They put him there after he tried to tackle a nurse. He sips a carton of orange juice, then holds the coolness of the cardboard to his black eye.  He got the black eye when the security guards finally took him down; Danforth told him it would be good form to start a little fight, to make his homicidal ideation more believable.

A psychiatrist walks into the room holding a clipboard. “You seem to have calmed down a little, and your blood alcohol level is finally low enough that we can evaluate you. Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

“Yes, of course. Have you had any thoughts about hurting yourself or anybody else?”

“Well, if you give me a few minutes to catch my breath, I’ll give you an ass-whooping you won’t soon forget.”

“Any suicidal thoughts?”

“Yeah. Every day I think about how good it would be to off myself and not have to deal with all this bullshit.”

“I see. Have you thought about a plan, about how you’re going to carry this out?”

“I have a pretty nice Smith and Wesson, I was toying with the idea of walking into the library and popping off a few of those twitchy little bastards while forcing that brunette librarian with the glasses to blow me. I figure, eventually, when the cops storm the place, I’ll shoot at them and end up full of bullets pretty fast. Sounds pretty good, no?”

“Thanks, Julius. The physical doctor will be in to see you next.”

“No problem, Doctor Fuck-face.”

It’s now when Danforth comes in to check on him. “You’re doin’ a great job, man, and we’re almost done. How you feelin’?”

“Pretty good.”

“Man, that scotch was really good, but I’m payin’ for it now. I’ve got to piss.”

And Danforth walks off in the direction of the restroom.

After the physical, the charge nurse comes in to talk to the good doctor. “Okay, so the county approved your 302, so we’re going to admit you to the geriatric unit of our hospital. Can I get you to sign this Patient Bill of Rights?”

“Fuck you, I ain’t signing nothing.”

As they take Julius to the front desk to get his belongings and take him upstairs, he decides to clue them in on what’s really going on.

“I’ll just take those myself. I’m not actually a patient. You see, I was a ‘decoy patient’ testing your facility. Don’t worry, though, you’re going to get a good review from me.”

The charge nurse looks at him, astonished. “Very funny, Doctor. It’s too late now, though, the county approved it and you’re going upstairs. Come on, let’s go.”

The security guard brings the doctor’s personal effects from the back room and hands them to the nurse.

“Seriously, it was all an act. Ask Danforth!”

“Danforth went home ten minutes ago.”

“Dammit, well…ask Claudia! She’s in on this, too, you know!”

The charge nurse is losing his patience. “Claudia got switched to another hospital last week, she doesn’t even work here anymore. We’re going upstairs; I don’t have time for this shit.”

The good doctor takes one last look around the psych ER for Danforth, but doesn’t see him anywhere.





(c) j baugher 2006