“Wren, this is Evan Roy.” Kit kept her tone gentle but professional. “Evan, this is Wren. She’s the photographer I was telling you about.”
Evan nodded, offering Wren a small, polite smile along with his hand. “Lovely to meet you.” His soft voice was laced with a beautiful Scottish accent.
“Likewise,” Wren replied, her photographer’s eye already noticing the deep crow’s feet etched into his face on either side of his pale blue eyes, and the way his hand trembled slightly as he extended it to shake hers. She could see the story he carried in his face and in every gesture. Kit could capture it with her words, and Wren would do her best to capture it in his face while he spoke.
“Here now, I’ve brought you a little something.” In his other hand, Evan carried a resealable plastic bag. “They let me use the kitchen, so I made you fudge. Can’t eat it myself. I’m a diabetic, but I love it so.”
Kit’s face broke into a smile as she took the bag. “Yes, you were telling me on the phone how much you love candy and making sweets. Thank you so much.”
“It looks delicious,” Wren added.
“I used to make it for my nurses.” Evan smiled fondly. “They work public clinics and I used to go every month.”
“But not now?” Kit asked as she led him to one of the folding chairs while Wren got behind her camera.
“Oh, no. No. I don’t want them burdened with my troubles.” Evan patted down his sparse grey hair.
Kit sat down in the chair next to his. She took out both a small recorder and a notepad with a pen. “We’ll get to your troubles in a minute, but I’d like to ask you how they would be burdened.”
Evan looked down at his hands. “That’s where it all started, at that public clinic. And I’m afraid they’ll blame themselves. I’m…” He raised a trembling hand and brushed at his eyes. “I’m not as grateful as I should be now. And no fault of theirs.”
“Tell me about it then,” Kit said softly. “Whose fault is it?”
Wren tried to be as unobtrusive as she could while still capturing the emotions flickering across Evan’s face as he spoke. She zoomed in on his hands as they clenched and unclenched while he told his story in a measured tone, every word carefully chosen.
“I was feeling poorly that morning, but I didn’t want to miss the clinic.” He smiled sweetly. “The batch of fudge I’d made the night before was especially good.”
Wren captured his smile, along with the pain in his eyes.
“When I got there and sat down for my exam, the nurses knew something was amiss. I told them I thought it might be a spot of indigestion. Sue, she was the nurse taking care of me, took my blood pressure, and the last thing I remember was her saying, ‘This isn’t right.’ Then a terrible pain tore through me,like someone had wrenched my left arm out of its socket. I don’t remember, but they say I clenched my fists, like this.”
Fists clenched, Evan bent his elbows and brought his hands to his chest while he threw his head back. Wren captured the fearful grimace on his face and his rigid body. Evan relaxed and brushed away another tear. Kit reached into her purse by her feet, then handed Evan a travel packet of tissues. He smiled self-consciously and thanked her.
“They thought I was having a seizure, but it was a massive heart attack. They got me down onto the floor and did CPR until the medics showed up. They saved my life. But Sue told me later they thought that was the last they’d see of me alive. They took me to the nearest hospital first, then I was flown to Milestone Hospital, closer in to Denver. They specialize in hearts.”
Evan’s mild expression changed, filling with anger. “But they have no heart themselves, I can tell you that.” His voice dropped an octave, and became shaky with emotion.
“Tell me what happened once you got to Milestone.”
“They put me on ice, dropped my temperature down to stop any further damage, put me in a coma. Then came the surgeries and the long hospital stay as I recovered. It all added up, as I discovered. Much more than I can ever pay.”
Kit nodded in sympathy. “What about Medicare? Aren’t they supposed to cover you?”
“You might hear it in my accent, but I’m from Scotland. I’m a U.S. citizen now, but I haven’t been in the country long enough to have paid into the system for ten years, so I don’t get full benefits. I was not married to an American so I don’t have spousal pay-in, and I have no children. Medicare pays up to ninety days in the hospital, but I went past my ninety-day mark, and was charged over eight-hundred dollars per day after that.”
Wren suppressed a shudder. She couldn’t imagine how much debt Evan was in.
“That does add up,” Kit said.
“It does.”
Kit crossed her leg and shifted in her seat. “What about a payment plan? Hospitals offer those all the time.”
“If you ladies and God above will pardon my language, that is where Milestone Hospital is screwing me. They call it Milestone Hospital, but for me, it has been a millstone tied to my neck instead.”
Kit glanced at Wren. She didn’t have to say a word for Wren to understand.
I’d bet every last dollar Lena was a patient at Milestone, too.
