“I’m not.” I crossed my arms, hugging my tablet full of pending charts to check through. My patients were waiting on me. Yet, it was painfully clear that this administrative employee from billing and registration would hound me until I was gone on that mission overseas.
“I am not being difficult about anything,” I replied.
“Yes, you are. When you fail to provideanydetails about that John Doe patient—not even a freaking name—you make it hell formeto domyjob.” Jabbing her finger at her chest was more emphasis than she needed to rely on. I heard every drop of frustration in her tone.
I shook my head. “That’s not my problem.”
“Yes, it is!” She raised her hands again only to drop them theatrically. “My supervisor is on my ass for the completion of that registration. I cannot proceed with insurance claims, to forward anything to billing, to verify anything to be sent to coding. Nothing. You are stalling this entire process by not coming forward and explaining who that patient was!”
I narrowed my eyes, annoyed with her attitude. I didn’t deserve this. I wasn’t going to take this crap from her, or anyone else.
“I provided all that I know,” I replied with a cool glare. “Just like I explained in my notes, in my after-visit summary, and with the assumed file of his AMA, I do not have an explanation for you about that patient. He came in, he was treated, and he left before anyone could advise him otherwise.”
“But you spoke to him. You noted that in the file. You spoke with him and he couldn’t have given you a clue where to reach him?”
He had, actually. Mikhail had given me his number, but I hadn’t passed that on to anyone else. Using the name he’d given me, I summarized the short visit and vowed to put him out of my mind.
I hadn’t. I couldn’t. Mikhail was branded in my psyche as a mystery I wouldn’t be able to solve.
“I provided all the details that he allowed me to have.” I raised my chin, daring this woman to push me to do anything else. She was in admin. I was in the business of saving lives. There was no gray area between us, and I’d done all I could for her to handle her end of this industry.
She growled, shaking her head and making her glasses slip down her nose. “Mikhail Orlov? Do you even know how ludicrous that is?”
I shrugged.
“He’s dead. Mikhail Orlov died thirty years ago!”
I shook my head. “Then that’s your problem to solve.” Maybe he gave me a fake name. It wouldn’t shock me with how badlyhe wanted to get out of the hospital last week. Even if he had, though, it wasn’t my fault.
Stepping closer, I loomed over her and narrowed my eyes. “Just because I’m a new employee to this hospital does not give you any right to boss me around. You do your job, and I’ll do mine. If I wasn’t given any other information, then that’s just it.”
Yet, as I seethed and said those words, a creeping sensation of guilt traced up my spine. I did have more information. He’d given me his number before breezing out of here, and Ishould’veprovided that to this woman or someone else in her department.
Yet, something held me back.
Whenever I thought about suggesting that they call him for billing at that number, I remembered how worried he was about being “exposed” here. The idea that this hospital could be a concerning location for him peeved me and mystified me. But I fell back to Fatima’s advice—to not get involved.
Turning away from the billing woman, I spotted Fatima smiling at me at the nurses’ station, clearly overhearing what I’d said.
“Boy, is she barking up the wrong tree,” she muttered, speaking quietly enough that only I’d hear.
“How so?”
She smiled like she had to explain something to a moron. “Oh, Claire. It’s not like those Mafia men ever do anything by the books. They stay off the record. They avoid the law. Of course, he wasn’t going to sit around and wait to be officially discharged and sign his agreement to pay for services.”
I nodded, already having suspected that much. But it really shouldn’t matter to me. It didn’t. I was expected to hold upmy oath and treat any and everyone who needed help. The homeless, the wealthy. The lost and the stable. How those bills were addressed wasn’t my concern. I was only here to practice medicine and improve the well-being of my patients’ lives.
“While they won’t do anything the ‘right’ way and fill out forms and documents, I suppose they sort of make up for it in other ways.”
I frowned at her. “How so? Donations?”
She nodded. “Bigdonations. I heard one was announced just this morning.” With a sly smile, she pointed at a huge bouquet of flowers that had been delivered earlier too. “And grand gestures of thanks, too.”
“Oh, stop. You can’t prove that’s from him.”
“I can’t think of any other patient you’ve had in a while who could affordthat.”
She may have had a good point there, but I wouldn’t be agreeing with it anytime soon. When those flowers showed up, addressed with gratitude to me, I thought of Mikhail. Even if he hadn’t had those flowers sent with a short and cryptic note that thanked me for my professionalism and expert care, he had been on my mind anyway. It was impossible to scrub my brain of all thoughts about him. I was getting better at ignoring the flashbacks of him standing up and dropping that hospital gown, revealing his big, thick?—
