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Blurb:
The article passed around the table on a hot August night. “Five to ten percent of the nation’s doctors are so impaired or incompetent they cannot or should not practice medicine.” The nurses at Bradley Memorial thought they had them all. That night they formed a group they called The Committee of Angels.
Nearly a year has passed and Laura Bancroft wonders why little has been done to change things. She also wonders about some of the nurses fitting the pattern. Laura has three doctors on her list of incompetents. She seldom meets with the other members and several of the others are upset with her. When her ex-husband joins the medical staff, she realizes she still has feelings for him. One of her list of doctors dies after emergency surgery and Laura finds her suspected since she was assigned to the doctor. She must deal with suspicions, her feelings for her ex. Then a second on her list commits suicide and speaks of blackmail.
Can Laura learn the truth of who is responsible before she faces arrest?
Excerpt:
Exhaustion swept through Laure’s body. She
bent her head and sipped the cola savoring the taste and the coolness on her
dry throat. She listened to the gossip sweeping around the table.
“So I said.” One of the nurses began.
“Doesn’t an elevated temp happening three days after surgery mean something’s
brewing.” She groaned. “This is the third pending infection for Blunder Doc
this month.”
“And it’s only August sixth,” another nurse
said. “Give him a chance to better his record.”
“Guess what Princess Doc said this
afternoon. ‘Don’t call me. Call the service and someone will get back to you. I
have a busy evening.”
“She must have tickets to the opera, Laura
mumbled.
A nurse with graying hair Laura had never
seen before leaned forward. “Seems things here aren’t much different from the
last place I worked.” She unfolded a piece of paper. “Months ago I read this
article. ‘Five to ten percent of the nation’s doctors are so impaired or
incompetent they cannot and should not practice medicine.”
A blast of chill air sent shivers along
Laura’s spine. Mentally she listed the doctors at Bradley Memorial who fit that
description. “I think the numbers are too low unless there are four or five hundred
doctors on staff.”
“Maybe we have them all,” someone
whispered.
Laura frowned. The clipped voice belonged
to one of the evening supervisors. What was Edith doing here? How often did
someone from administration socialize with staff nurses? The older woman sat next
to the young blonde who had just completed her month long orientation.
“Something should be done,” someone said.
Laura scanned her companions. Who had
spoken? “What can we do?” Her question joined the chorus.
There’s more.” The supervisor moved the globed
candle closer. For an instant the flickering flame changed her round smiling face
into a grotesque mask. “Only a doctor can determine if another doctor is incompetent.”
“Wrong,” the stranger nurse said. “Nurses
can act.”
“Sure.” Skepticism colored the speaker’s
voice. “We all know how they avoid and close their ranks around the
incompetent. They’re afraid of what they might find.”
“And if any of the doctors agree with us
they’re black-listed.”
“So, what can we do?” Laura’s question
halted the buzz of conversation.
“Nothing.” Doug said. “Look at what
happened to Alice when she complained about Blunder Doc. She lost her job.
While this isn’t always a fun job, it pays the bills.”
A second woman slapped the table. “He’s
right. The doctors will continue with business as usual.”
How right they were. Laura drew a deep
breath. For more than twenty years, Dr. John Moore had been a sloppy surgeon,
Her nails dug into her palms. The infection he had caused when he’d operated on
her mother had caused her death. Laura had been forced to face her teenage
years motherless. How many times had a similar scenario been repeated because
of him?
The stranger nurse rested her elbows on the
table. “Who says we must work alone. I’ll tell you what the nurses at the last
hospital where I worked did.” She lowered her voice to a near whisper. “They
formed a committee.”
Doug laughed. “We could do the same and
call ourselves the Committee of Angels.”
Born that hot August night, the Committee
began collecting data and investigating the doctors at Bradley Memorial
Hospital. During the days and months , though few of the members knew, letters
were sent to a select group of physicians on staff.
Dear Doctor,
Five to ten percent of the nation’s
doctors are unfit to practice medicine, We have determined you are one of them.
A reckoning is due. You are being watched.
The Committee of Angels.
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