Page 4 of The Heart We Guard
“Since the end of last month. The policy doesn’t apply to trauma cases with on-going criminal investigations. Given his motorcycle club allegiance and the fact those are gunshot wounds, he’ll be excluded.”
“That’s so morally wrong.” None of my co-workers know about Eli. It’s not that he’s a dirty secret, but it’s not an easy story to tell.
Charlie nods. “I don’t disagree. But there is zero chance of him being awarded any discount.”
“Dr. Hansen,” Mendez calls out as he heads towards me.
“What now?” I mutter so only Charlie can hear.
“I’ll leave you with Bulldog,” Charlie says and takes his leave.
“Just catching up on email,” he says, folding his arms.
“Lucky you, having the time to sit down to do that.”
He purses his lips. “Got one from the medical records compliance officer. You know the three-strikes rule.”
“Which one? We have so many goddamn rules, it’s hard to keep track.”
“Lose the attitude, Hansen. Three times this month, you’ve left your trauma charts open past the twenty-four-hour compliance window.”
My mouth opens. “What the…? They got done. This isn’t a big deal.”
But somewhere in my belly, it’s all starting to feel like a very big deal.
“The charts matter. You know billing can’t process until everything’s complete. Case reviews stall. Then you get compliance and risk management breathing downmyneck and you become my problem.”
“Are you really this clueless? I’m exhausted. You’ve got me working an extra shift. The EMR system is a clunky piece of shit. Tell me when I’m supposed to do my fucking charts.”
Mendez steps into my space. “Find time. It’s not optional. You’re a brilliant surgeon, Greer. But not doing your charts is a liability.”
“A liability.” I huff. “You know what’s a liability? Having to consider whether I’m about to bankrupt people when I operate on them. You know the young guy I just operated on…he told me he can’t afford it. He literally said those words to me. I told him we’d help, but apparently the policy has changed, and he won’t qualify. He won’t fucking qualify for a hardship fund that I pay into. And you’re here, bothering me about charts. Fucking charts that actually got done.”
The muscles in the sides of Mendez’s jaw twitch. “It’s a conflict of interest to let the people who pay into the fund decide how it gets spent. I was asked my opinion on that policy, and it’s a good one. Reckless people who bring trouble on themselves should not be at the top of the handout line.”
“The handout line? Did you really just say that?”
“I did. And I suggest you watch what you say and the tone you say it in, Dr. Hansen. Go take a break and cool down.”
The last line flips me over the edge. “Take a break? That’s a joke. You just told me Ican’ttake a break because the board’s full. But everyone who has sick kids gets to have time off because Greer will step in and cover for them. Perhaps if you weren’t so busy chasing down ridiculous admin requests, we could both get some real work done. Stop pretending that you care about health care and admit you’re a privileged, power-hungry bureaucrat.”
“Watch your tone or I’ll suspend you.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Is that before or after you tell me again how we’re two surgeons down and I need to work way longer than is safe or probably legal?”
“That’s it. You’re done. Go home, Greer.”
“You’re firing me because I signed up to save lives, not spend my hours defending a billing system? Maybe I got to thirty hours instead of twenty-four hours, but it’s not like I didn’t do the charts at all. But you know what? I don’t need this.”
“We’ll talk in a week,” Mendez shouts.
I don’t even reply or look at Mendez; I just sprint for the exit, because I need some fresh air before I puke.
And by the time I get there, the exhaustion is pouring down my face in the form of tears.
2
BUTCHER
