Page 34 of The Unraveling

I should’ve done something about it.

Not brushed my suspicions under the table.

Connor’s anger? Before his injury, he’d never once raised his voice to me the way he did after he started those pills the pain clinic prescribed. He’d also never had trouble sleeping. Or an inability to sit down and relax when he got home.

Side effects of OxyContin abuse: Mood swings. Anger. Difficulty sleeping. Restlessness.

What did I do about it?

Pretended not to see it.

Justified every single outburst. Looked the other way at every other flashing sign so I wouldn’t upset Connor.

But deep down I’d known. Hadn’t I?

I knew.

I might not be guilty of writing the prescription itself, but I’d buried my head in the sand. I’d failed.

As a wife.

As a doctor.

And so I paced. And paced. And paced. My lawyer had said he’d be out in less than an hour, but it was more like two that passed before the door opened again.

Martin shut the door behind him and blew out two cheeks full of air. “They want a year.”

“A year suspension?”

He nodded. “I tried everything. They’re not budging.”

I let that sink in. A year with no patients. It would be tough. But wasn’t I getting off easy compared to the Wright family? One year would likely fly by. I’d be back in my office in no time. But where would they be?

Still dead.

Still buried six feet beneath the ground.

I swallowed. “Okay.”

“They also want you to see a therapist during your suspension and for one year after your return to practice. As much as they’re holding you accountable, they also recognize that you’ve been through a lot, that you’ve experienced a big loss. They want to make sure your mental health is strong enough when you’re able to treat patients again.”

I nodded. “That’s fair.”

Martin took a deep breath. “Okay, then. We just need to go in so you can formally accept an admission of professional misconduct and then we’ll be on our way. You’ll be unable to practice medicine and see patients after today. They’ll allow you fourteen days to manage your practice—meaning direct your staff to call patients and cancel appointments or make arrangements for another psychiatrist to cover you during your suspension. After that, you won’t be able to have any involvement with your practice whatsoever. I recommend you not have contact with any staff or go into your office for any reason, in order to eliminate any appearance of impropriety. It’s best to make a clean break.”

“Okay.” I nodded.

“I should also warn you that there’s a group that could harass you once this becomes public record. It happened to another doctor I represented a few years back. They organized a protest outside his office. They go after doctors who get in trouble for selling scripts or overprescribing. The woman who started it lost her son when he fell asleep at the wheel and drove off the side of the highway. He was addicted to oxycodone. His doctor had written him something like forty prescriptions. This is a very different situation, so they shouldn’t give you any trouble. But I thought you should know.”

Oh God.

I tugged at the collar of my blouse, feeling suddenly claustrophobic. “Could we go in and get this over with? I really need some fresh air.”

“Of course.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, I was out on the street. I leaned forward with my hands on my thighs, panting like I’d just run a race.

“You okay?” Martin asked.

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