Page 43 of Delayed Intention

A Different Kind Of Letter

I don’t know how, but I’m still hungover when I pick up Ginger from the kennel a few days after Purim.

After the party that night, I stayed with Michelle for a few days, spending most of my time sleeping and nursing my health with chicken soup.

I’m not as young as I once was, and I feel it the most when I drink too much.

Back in college, I could bounce back in a few hours, but now?

My recovery time has stretched out to at least a full day and is a multi-step process.

Currently, I still have a headache and feel like I’m about three liters of Lactated Ringer’s short of rehydration.

I let myself into the house while Ginger charges ahead.

Before I get too far into the foyer, I step into a huge stack of mail on the floor and bend to scoop it up.

Ginger, for her part, appears thrilled to be here and starts running zoomies around the first floor.

I trudge my way into the living room and drop my duffel, collapsing onto the sofa and setting the mail down on the coffee table.

The dog doesn’t even spare me a look before running out through the dog door, presumably to replace her scent in the yard.

I sort out junk from the real mail when something stands out among the pile.

Oddly, there are official-looking letters from the Nebraska Board of Medicine and the Colorado Medical Board.

My license renewal shouldn’t be up for another year at least, so I can’t imagine what it could be.

I opened the envelope from Colorado first, and as I read it, the air in the room started to thin, like there wasn’t quite enough oxygen for me.

My fingers are going numb as I absorb the fact that I’m holding an emergency suspension notice.

This can’t be right . I check and confirm the letter addresses me, effective immediately.

I read the words again, shock replacing my denial.

The statement details an investigation into five separate reports.

The summary claims that I’ve been practicing medicine while under the influence of alcohol and illicit drugs. What the fuck?

The eight-page document includes detailed affidavits from five patients.

I don’t recall meeting any of them. One woman claims I wrote her a prescription for narcotics for recreational purposes while she and I were in a romantic relationship.

I rush to open the document from Nebraska, which has the exact same allegations.

“What in the hell?!?”

My phone is ringing, and I hardly register that it may be a call for me—it sounds as if the ringing is a thousand miles away. I look down at the screen and see Henry’s name, one of my colleagues from the Wyoming office.

“Henry?” I answer and register that my voice sounds forced.

Once the adrenaline crash hits me, my spiral is going to be epic.

“Josh, do you have a minute?”

“It looks like I have many of them. This afternoon, I received letters from medical boards in Colorado and Nebraska. They informed me me that my medical license is suspended, pending an investigation. Did you know about this? Wait, is that why you’re calling?”

“Um. Yeah. It’s not only those two states.

The Board of Medicine of Wyoming served us a notice of your suspension today.

” He clears his throat. “I’ve never even seen you take a drink of alcohol, let alone get intoxicated at work.

Do you have the names of the people who are accusing you in any of those letters? ”

“I do, in the Colorado letter. None of them look familiar. It also reports that one of them says I offered her drugs while we were in a relationship. I’ve never even heard of her. What the hell is this, Henry?”

“Look, Josh, we know you didn’t do any of this. It’s going to be a mess while we sort this all out. Has anyone served you a notice of a civil lawsuit?”

“No. Wait, is that what’s next?”

“Not sure, but Steve worries about that very idea. Can you email me the names in the Colorado notice so we can see if any of these people are even patients of ours?”

“Yeah, good idea—but I can go ahead and read them to you if you want.”

Henry coughs and my belly seizes up as he continues. “Actually, if you can do it by email, that way we can keep an official paper trail.”

They are dropping me like a lit match in the plot twist I never saw coming.

“Um. Yeah, sure. I’ll do it as soon as we get off the phone.” Shit, shit, shit. Now, it feels like Henry has called to break up with me.

“Look, Josh, I called because we want you to understand—we know you. We know this is bullshit. That being said, Steve thinks you should get your own attorney in case there’s a suit filed against the practice.”

I swallow. He is breaking up with me. “Okay. I know some people.”

He’s calling to tell me they have my back when they actually do not.

“This is going to be over some pissed-off woman again, isn’t it?

” He sounds more disappointed in me than judgmental.

I know the answer, but Henry, my friend and colleague for years, doesn’t want me to answer.

It’s all gone too far. He and I both know it.

I went too far. He sounds so let down. I realize that, in all likelihood, I will be out of the practice for good, no matter what an investigation finds.

Now, there is a need to be careful with what I say. “I suppose so.”

“Well, like I said, we’re all on your side, Josh, but we’ve got to think about the clinic as a whole.

” He clears his throat again. “If it were the first time, that would be one thing. But we’ve had to band together because of something in your personal life before…

” He doesn’t finish his thought. He doesn’t need to.

“I better go find that attorney, Henry. You take care of yourself, and when I find out anything that can help the practice, I will let you know as soon as. Okay?”

“Yeah. Take care of yourself, Josh.”

“I’ll send an email with the names and a scan of the other notices in a few minutes. Do me a favor. Let me know if these are even real patients and in which states I saw them—for my attorney.”

“Sure. I’ll send you an email back as soon as we compile the records.”

“Thanks, Henry. Take care.” If I had an actual heart, it would be breaking right now.

“You too, Josh. Be well.” He hangs up.

I scan the letter and email the list of names while the incredulity I felt at first is being replaced with dread.

Before I give myself over to panic, I call Michelle because my instinct has me reaching out for my big sister.

I leave a message to call back while I pour myself some straight gin into a tall glass.

I don’t care for gin—it’s leftover from a party—but it’s within reach and works; right now, nothing else seems to matter.

Michelle’s name pops up on my phone, and I answer after hesitating. Saying what has happened out loud to her will make this feel more real, but I need her help.

“Michelle.”

“Josh—what’s wrong?” The fact that she can sense something is off by the way I say her name makes me feel like I haven’t lost everything yet. I swallow.

“Are you sitting down?”

“Josh. You’re scaring me.”

“Well, that’ll make two of us then,” my voice sounds so unlike what it usually does. It sounds small, and I hate it.

“I received a letter stating my license to practice is suspended for allegedly treating patients while intoxicated.” I hear Michelle’s sharp intake of breath.

“Some patients claim I treated them while drunk and high, but I would never...” I trail off because I don’t need to tell her.

“I’ve got letters from Colorado and Nebraska.

Henry called and told me the practice received notice from Wyoming’s medical board as well.

” I pause, and she says something I don’t register, so I keep going.

“The practice is hanging me out to dry, Miche. They suggested I hire my own counsel. Also, I think I know who is behind this.”

I wonder how mad she will be that I never mentioned the stuff with Lara before, but it’s too late for regrets now. Pausing to gulp down some gin, I tell her about Lara and her threats. How the practice and I had braced ourselves for trolling on social media… but not this.

“That doesn’t give them the right to leave you on your own.”

“I guess.” I’m spiraling, and I want to get smashed, not think about any of this. I rub a hand over my face, feeling like I’ve aged since this morning began. “You still in touch with your college roommate, that malpractice attorney?”

“Yeah, I’ll text you her contact info—give me a chance to reach out to her and let her know what’s going on, okay? We’re going to beat this, Josh—don’t worry. This is total bullshit and you’ll come out on the other side—”

I stopped her there. “Listen, all I want to do is get shitfaced, but thanks for trying. I suppose I should talk to Joyce before I’m too far gone.”

She sighs, “I love you, Josh, you know that? You are a good man. You don’t deserve this.” Don’t I, though?

“Love you too, Michelle. Thanks.”

We say goodbye, and in less time than it takes for me to drink my second glass, she texts me the contact information for Joyce Hunt.

Michelle

JH, (303) 322-4440 I love you, Josh. You’re going to be fine.

Just like her, to assume that this will all work out. My sister will fail to recognize the truth about what a piece of shit I can be. Part of that is my fault for compartmentalizing everything, every person in my life.

Me

Love u 2. Thanks

I called Michelle’s attorney friend, Joyce Hunt, and she listened to the shit show I’ve made of my life, saving her questions for the end.

We know each other peripherally. My sister likely spoke up for my innocence.

Still, I’m not sure that influenced her choice to be my attorney of record as much as my ability to pay her fees.

She tells me her billable rate and says she’d be happy to help.

Since she earns about $400 an hour, I’m sure she would.

While I’ve been speaking with Joyce, I’ve missed a few texts from Lily, and without reading any of them, I let her know I’m busy.

I turn off all notifications on my phone and proceed to get hammered.

Fucking Lara . She told me she would get revenge, and I felt sorry for her.

Now, I’m alone, suspended from the only thing I’ve ever done of value with my life.

Not to mention, I’m facing thousands of dollars in legal fees, all while getting drunk on gin I don’t even like.

I grabbed my keys, resolving to head over to the bar down the road.

The last thing I want to do is think about Lily, Lara, Henry, the practice, Joyce’s fees, or any of this.

I pour some food for Ginger and fill up her water bowl, knowing I’m not coming back for a while.

She sensed something was wrong and had come in earlier to lean against my legs, looking up at me with her golden eyes.

I can’t take her pity any more than I can my sister’s, so I grab my coat, scratch Ginger on the head, and take off in search of oblivion.

After a few more drinks in me, I still feel depressed.

I’m a blurrier version of myself. I decided to reach out to Lily, after all.

Might as well round out the day with all my ducks in a row.

I know I’m hammered, so I reread my text several times before sending it, making sure the message is clear. The less ambiguity, the better.

Lily, I can’t talk for a while. Also I’m drunk and my phone is on do not disturb. I told you I don’t do relationships. Just so we’re clear, this benefits thing is over. Have a good night.

That should clear that up. Chasing another shot with a beer, it surprises me I’m still not drunk enough to stop my mind from trying to sort out how I can get through this.

How will I keep on with the life I’ve come to love?

I can’t. I don’t often feel overwhelmed by a problem, but this is too big and has too many layers.

Henry’s tone and words keep replaying in my head, and I don’t know how justified the anger toward my practice is.

Maybe they’re right. This is exactly what I deserve, and it should be all on my head, not to mention my dime, to sort out. I order three more shots to line up.

“You all right there, doc?” The bartender, James, looks at me with concern.

“You know what, I almost am.” I toss back a shot and look at him again. “And you might as well just call me Josh.”