Crisis by Robin Cook Page B

the plaintiff by the statutory Massachusetts tribunal, which had ruled after hearing testimony that there was sufficient, properly substantiated evidence of possible negligence to allow the case to go to trial. As a corollary to this finding, there was no need for the claimant, Jordan Stanhope, to post a bond.
    The day that Craig had learned this news was the blackest for him of the whole pre-trial period, and unbeknownst to anyone, he had for the first time in his life considered the idea of suicide. Of course, Randolph had offered the same pabulum that Craig had been given initially; namely, that he should not take the minor defeat personally. Yet how could he not take the finding personally, since it had been rendered by a judge, a lawyer, and a physician colleague? These were not high-school dropouts or stultified blue-collar laborers; they were professionals, and the fact that they thought he had committed malpractice, meaning he had rendered care that was substandard, was a mortal blow to Craig's sense of honor and personal integrity. He had literally devoted his entire life to becoming the best doctor he could be, and he had succeeded, as evidenced by stellar grades in medical school, by stellar evaluations during the course of his residency at one of the most coveted institutions in the country, and even by the offer to become part of his current practice from a celebrated and widely renowned clinician. Yet these professionals were calling him a tortfeasor. In a very real sense, the entire image of his self-worth and self-esteem had been undermined and was now on the line.
    There had been other events besides the tribunal's ruling that had seriously clouded the horizon. Back at the beginning, even before the interrogatories had been completed, Randolph had strenuously advised that Craig make every effort to reconcile with his wife, Alexis, give up his in-town, recreational apartment (as Randolph had referred to it), and move back to the Newton family home. It had been Randolph's strong feeling that Craig's relatively new, self-indulgent (as he called it) lifestyle would not sit well with a jury. Willing to listen to experienced advice although chafing at the dependency it represented, Craig had followed the recommendations to the letter. He'd been pleased and thankful that Alexis had been willing to allow him to return, albeit to sleep in the guest room, and she'd been graciously supportive as evidenced by her sitting at that very moment in the spectator section. Reflexively Craig twisted around and caught Alexis's eye. She was dressed in a casually professional style for her work as a psychologist at the Boston Memorial Hospital, with a white blouse and blue cardigan sweater. Craig managed a crooked smile, and she acknowledged it with one of her own.
    Craig redirected his attention to the voir dire. The judge was castigating a frumpy accountant who was intent on being excused for hardship. The man had claimed clients couldn't do without him for a week's trial, which was how long the judge estimated the proceeding would take considering the witness list, which was mostly the plaintiff attorney's list. Judge Davidson was merciless as he told the gentleman what he thought of his sense of civic responsibility but then dismissed him. A replacement was called and sworn and the process continued.
    Thanks to Alexis's personal generosity, which Craig attributed primarily to her maturity and secondarily to her training as a psychologist, things had gone reasonably well at home over the last eight months. Craig knew it could have been intolerable if Alexis had chosen to behave as he probably would have if the situation had been reversed. From his current vantage point, Craig was able to view his so-called "awakening" as a juvenile attempt to be someone he wasn't. He was born to be a doctor, which was an encompassing calling, and not a Brahmin socialite. In fact, he'd been given his first doctor kit by his doting mother when he