This story is a work of complete fiction. Any resemblance to living persons or the departed, to reality is a coincidence. This story eventually includes descriptions of sex between adult males. If you are a minor, if this material is illegal where you live, or if this material offends you, please don't read it. Please donate to Nifty. Find the donation button on the Nifty web site to help you to pay your share of their expenses to provide these entertaining stories for you. Remember that authors depend on feedback for improvement and encouragement. All rights reserved.
James Robert Nolgren MD: Nolgren MD, Attending-7
The house supervisor sent the bedside nurse home and asked her not to come back to the hospital until this incident was concluded.
The administrator, a wonderful woman with a tender heart, thought first of a family who had suffered the scare of a horrible illness, the loss of a loved one in her hospital.
She wasn't worried about the lawsuit she knew was coming. The hospital maintained a massive malpractice insurance coverage policy. They wouldn't fight it for a second. Her problem became the old dilemma in medicine.
That dilemma was the fact the medicine was only as good as the worst and least qualified person giving care. You could have all the experts in the world sitting around managing things, but if the person doing hands-on care was incompetent, the patient would suffer.
The irony was that the reverse was sometimes true as well.
The problem was human nature. The constant battle existed to shift the balance toward better care by improving both sides of the equation, improving both management and bedside care. Constant vigilance, education, cooperation with the unions to improve care, boosting morale, dealing with disasters in a rational way that taught rather than destroyed...that was her job.
James got the call from the Chief that morning and his blood ran cold when he heard his voice.
"James, I'm afraid I have very bad news for you. I can tell you over the phone or if you prefer, come find me in my office."
"No, doc. Tell me now and let's go forward. I don't need the drive."
The entire house woke at James' wail of grief as he punched the off button on his cell. It was a call to a nightmare, to unimaginable sorrow and anger, to loss of a lover, an irreplaceable friend.
He yelled for a while, surrounded by his other lovers who couldn't do a damn thing about it.
Then they decided they could and would. Dennis and Joe left James in his bed, sedated now for his own protection and far removed from the bottle of pills. Ted and Biggy stayed near him while Dennis and Joe went to the study to talk.
"Our tools are legal," said Dennis. "Of course, we're going to sue." My dad deserves that. The whole area deserves that. The difference we might make is what compensation we ask for. We don't need money. What if we asked as damages mandatory personnel and IT changes to these critical units which would prevent stupid people from trying to do things they weren't trained to do."
"Good idea," said Joe, ever the legal analyst. "Two problems come to mind."
"One is that no amount of money can prevent a human from trying something stupid. There's no law against stupid. One cannot fully assess or improve the knowledge of a employee at hiring except as one verifies their training elsewhere. All future training and orientation must occur at the institutional level or at their behest."
"The second hurdle is that unless money is at hand those changes cannot take place. You might accomplish the task more easily by suing for the money, then donating it in a targeted way to accomplish your goals. That's also legal. It's not illegal to give money back to the hospital that did the damage. The insurance company, however, will check very carefully to make certain that the hospital didn't seek to assist you in the effort."
"So," Joe went on, "the legal task is to quickly reject any notion that the hospital or an agent of the institution facilitated the insurance company's loss. I'm sure the insurance company's contract with the hospital has a whole paragraph to that effect in the small print section."
"Let's talk to Judge Teldrick," said Dennis. "He'll say he can't speak with us about any pending case that might come before him. I'd be disappointed if he didn't."
"He might have some pointers for new lawyers, though."
Instead, the two men decided instead to talk to a professor at Yale who specialized in malpractice cases and was glad to give them some pointers.
He counselled against suing for unusual compensation and said that judges were allergic to that sort of thing since Circuit courts frequently reversed those sorts of arbitrary judgment not directly prescribed as standard for a certain charge.
Judges hated having their names frequently show up on a Circuit court docket unless they were one of the Circuit court judges.
He endorsed the idea of suing for an amount of money, making certain they had standing to do so (ie, Dennis could sue as a biological son, Joe could not as a friend and neither could James in some states). The professor urged them to avoid any appearance of collusion with the hospital and agreed that the insurance company could sue the hospital for the return of the money and them for fraud if they colluded and rightly so.
James, emerging now, sat at home, stunned. He'd been given ten days home leave by his department. He wasn't sure if he could go back to that hospital and work. He wasn't sure he wanted to go on breathing. He wasn't hungry and didn't take good care of his body.
He entered a tail spin which, oddly enough, got interrupted. Biggy and Ted weren't going to tolerate this behavior. It made them unhappy for him and jeopardized their work and they liked him a lot anyway and knew, just knew, there was something they could do for him.
Turned out there was. After breakfast in bed was cleared away one morning, the two of them knocked on his door and got a 'come-in' answer. They marched in, raised the curtains letting the winter sun in to shine on his bed. Ted went in and started the shower running.
Biggy helped James up and assisted him to the bathroom. They both efficiently undressed him and popped him into the huge shower. The rainmaker shower head was wonderful. Biggy and Ted looked at each other, quickly undressed, kissed each other, and stepped into the shower.
James, surprised, was about to order them out. He never got the chance. Biggy grabbed James' hand and pulled it down to his cock.
"Feel this James. One day you are going to want something again. Lawrence, if he were standing here this moment would tell you to stop and be happy, that he's OK where he is, to go on with life."
Ted got in front of James and Biggy got behind and his ax aligned in James crack.
"Give me a good reason why I shouldn't use this monster. Lawrence can't take advantage of me. You can't because you employ me. But I can offer what you can't request. I'm offering you a boost over this hump. Ted will take care of your other end when we get ya back in your bed all dry and comfy."
"If you say yes, I'm going to put this big boy right up where the sun don't shine. If that doesn't put a new spring in your step, God gave you the coup de grace and you're dead already just like Lawrence wouldn't want you to be."
James heard himself, trembling, say 'yes' to life and before he knew it, he was dried off and not even close to comfortable with a log up his whizzway which made him forget all about everything for a few minutes and during that time he was frantically suckling on Ted's cock as a child would its mother's breast.
The aftermath of that was a repeat performance, a ceremony of loss for many years once a week; no one asked, no one reminded, it just happened at the same time in the same circumstances and over time James stretched to fit so all he felt was the physical affection without pain.
Ted and Biggy had the satisfaction of healing the healer, not to mention the spice in their own relationship to the strains of Chopin's Nocturn, Opus 48, Number 2 in C# Minor as performed by a recorded master. The sex was never dominant or rough during these weekly sessions, but contemplative, remembering Lawrence and his favorite music while being brought to the edge of bearable pleasure, filling him to the utmost, just as ancient Egyptian priests brought their Pharaoh to the edge of the afterlife, just across the space that divided him from his divine other.
James was to remember them handsomely in his will.
Dennis and Joe filed the lawsuit in the Multnomah County courthouse with the court clerk one fine morning. It was just another piece of paper for the clerk. The suit asked for an even one hundred seventy-five million dollars in compensation for wrongful death, negligence, malpractice, disregard of duty and a few other improper things.
They had studied court procedure and watched the docket very carefully. A call from the opposing insurance company was recorded by them. An offer of settlement was given and rejected out of hand by Dennis. A higher offer came and was rejected. It began to be very clear to the insurance company that they were about to lose this case and pressure was placed on their legal department to head off the disaster.
A conference there among those attorneys produced only one faint glimmer of hope. "I heard," said one attorney, "that there is a resident who recorded his impressions of the incident in real-time. We ought to be able to use that to our advantage, I would think."
"You might have something there. I heard of a trick used by another insurance corporation once. They mailed a similar tape to the people suing to 'help' their case along. There wasn't any further damage, it was an open and shut case."
"But the insurance company was able to show that the defendants colluded with the hospital and recovered all their money. The trick is a long shot but these two kids aren't going to know."
The resident was paid to mail a transcript of his audio to Dennis and Joe and a video of him doing so was taken by an insurance company photographer.
Upon receipt of the letter in the office, Joe grabbed Dennis' hand. "This is a trick. I can feel it. Don't open the envelope."
"Let's show this to a reliable witness, like the Multnomah County Prosecutor. Show him that we haven't opened it and let him decide whether this could constitute collusion."
The Prosecutor had heard everything, but he hadn't heard this one. He verified that the envelope had not been opened, then sent them out of the room while he read the transcript. He called them back in to his office.
"Oh my God, he said, "you really want to see this, but if you do, the insurance will get their money back. My advice is leave this with me and I'll charge the insurance company with something. First, I'm going to speak with the Senior resident and find out the exact circumstances of his sending the letter to you. I'll be in touch. Nice work."
A few days later, the Prosecutor called laughing. He told Joe that the resident had confessed to sending it after being paid to do so. The Prosecutor had written to the insurance company CEO and threatened charges if there was more interference with the case.
Paying someone to tell a lie was 'suborning perjury'. Paying someone to tell the 'truth' in order to commit a fraud or lie was perilously close to conspiring and conspiracy had its own rewards. He had advised the insurance company that he would be their worst public relations nightmare if they continued down that road.
The case was heard in December. The jury deliberated for a long thirty minutes. Seems that they had stopped to have coffee first before they voted the first time. Unanimously. The verdict for one hundred seventy-five million dollars seemed like a lot but there would be appeals to reduce it. The Prosecutor called one morning and spoke with Dennis.
"I called the insurance company CEO to see if he remembered me. Turns out he did. I asked him as a favor to me personally to not appeal the verdict. I told him he owed me for not charging his company with conspiracy and eliminating his company from the Oregon market, shutting him out in Portland. He huffed and puffed and finally agreed, but we know he wasn't personally suffering over the decision."
"Lloyds reinsures many of the larger insurance companies like his. His insurance company takes some of the premiums they get from their 'covered lives' (that's you and me) and simply pays Lloyds a premium each month or year to cover his large losses."
"His insurance company cannot lose. It's a money machine, better than owning a casino because people have to have insurance, or think they do. Well done, Yalie. I'm a Harvard man myself but I was rooting for you the whole way. We Ivy League men rock, no?"
"Thank you for your help," replied Dennis. "We'd not have prevailed without you and we know it. You can expect help with your next campaign. We think you're doing a great job for Multnomah County."
They had done the work themselves from the cost point of view. The entire judgment was wired to their account in late January. It made for a stunning bank statement. There were no lawyer fees, obviously, which helped but they expected the IRS to want a chunk of it since the damage to Dennis wasn't physical injury.
They didn't spend the money or give it away right away which was a good thing because the IRS indeed took a healthy percentage which they mailed in that same quarter and the state took a chunk as well which they paid right away. They were left with about eighty million dollars.
The core, now reduced to three men, met at DJs office one day to plan just how to spend the money. They had invited the CEO and administrator of the hospital to join them.
The hospital attorney had strongly advised them not to meet with anyone who had sued them.
The administrator, however, was made of tough stuff and said she wasn't afraid to carry the banner into enemy territory to learn more. It wasn't a crime to listen and she was going.
The CEO decided to follow his attorney's advice.
"We're here today to plan the disposition of the eighty million dollars which after IRS and State taxes is the balance after a recent judgment in a Multnomah County Superior Court jury trial in the matter of one Dennis Favre-Nolgren, that would be me, versus OHSU medical center in the untimely death of my biological father, Lawrence Favre."
"I would like to thank Raja Jones, administrator of the medical center for having the courage to meet with us today. Her great-grandmother, Blossom Taneesha Jones RN, owned a great deal of property in Hillsboro near Bald Peak in Washington County and was involved somehow with the Schuyler family, I believe."
"In any event, the balance was planned as a gift to OHSU medical center from the inception of the lawsuit (Ms. Jones gave a small gasp). I must say that I wish now that we'd sued for a higher amount. Be that as it may, we are faced with details now. Ms. Jones, I believe you are familiar with the case and the nurse's decision to reprogram a device that ended in the death of my father. We are considering donating this money to computerize the hospital."
She began to protest.
"Please, Ms. Jones, hear us out. When most people think of a computerized hospital they think of doctor and nurse's orders and medication tracking and billing and scheduling of a thousand things, accounts payable, accounts receivable, all standard stuff now in every hospital."
We have something far more advanced in mind. A couple of supercomputers with artificial intelligence that can truly have the patient's back in innovative ways and protect the nursing staff at the same time.
An example in this case: Nurse A decides that reprogramming the monitor is the best way to proceed.
She speaks and a computer listens: "I think I should reprogram this device because...."
The computer responds: "Please consult your supervisor first because reprogramming the device will make it impossible to compare previous numbers to analyze pressure trends from the device in your patient's skull."
Dennis told the group that the computer was dispensing information, not controlling anything. Every nurse would ask their supervisor to check and the computer would repeat the warning after identifying the supervisor's voice and log that warning. If the supervisor told the computer they planned to go ahead anyway, the computer would telephone the resident and repeat the warning.
Ms. Jones face had a skeptical look on her face. "A computer isn't licensed to practice nursing in Oregon."
"You are absolutely correct. Computers input into medical decisions every day, but the final decision is the caregiver's license at risk, not the computer's since it doesn't have one."
"You do know that if that nurse had known or her supervisor had known, my father would still be alive and in my life."
"No, I don't know that," she said bravely. "Your father died because of a biological event that occurred in his skull. I won't let you demonize a nurse because she made an error which may or may not have contributed to his death."
"Fine, I'll spend the money elsewhere and invent a computer that will someday help nurses in ways we don't know about yet and your hospital can buy the system from my company. I think we're done here. Thank you for being willing to listen, Ms. Jones."
"Don't be a hard-ass with me, young man."
"As you wish."
"I was told not to come here today by the hospital attorney. I came expecting more."
"What did you expect?"
"I had no specifics in mind. I came to listen."
"You listened and dissed."
"I told you exactly what the nurses' union is going to say if a computer is installed to tell them what to do...and that's exactly what they will say when the subject is broached. That's a reality you may not want to hear, but at some point you'll have to take it into consideration."
"The day is over when a nurse can proceed with nursing decisions without support," said Dennis, "just as the day when a physician could treat his patients with any medication that came to his or her mind and charge anything they wished is over, for slightly different reasons. Medical care changes and its provision changes."
"You may be right. The challenge is building a case and selling it to the stakeholders, one of whom is the nurse's unions. They have fought for nurse autonomy since their inception; it is their reason for being and why so many nurses join. Doing what you wish when you wish is an attractive concept for us all, it seems."
"Sounds like we should be talking to the union."
"Now we're getting closer to progress," said Ms. Jones. "I think you may be barking up the right tree at least. Keep in touch."
Ms. Jones was correct. The nurse's union had grave concerns about computerizing the hospital further.
Dennis, Joe and James decided to put the eighty million and change into a trust fund for Oregon health care. The Lawrence Favre Oregon Health Fund was born. Joe called Paulo Schuyler at the Schuyler Trust in New York and explained the situation.
"We've a health care trust very distantly related to the Schuyler family which needs tending. We have skills in the law and medicine in the family but could use your help. Do you have any interest in talking to us about managing the fund from the financial end?"
"Sure, if our current beneficiary signs off, we're ready to roll for you. I can't speak for Joseph, but as the current director of the various elements of the Schuyler trust I'd encourage him to have us care for Blossom's great-granddaughter's interests."
"Can you tell us how to contact Joseph?"
"I can." Paulo gave Joe the contact information.
Joseph Schuyler-Jones had just finished a phone call to a friend at the Louvre when his secretary asked if he would take a call from a friend of Blossom Jones' granddaughter in Portland, OR.
"Mr. Joseph Schuyler? Thank you for taking my call. My name is Joe Brown calling from Portland, OR. My partner, Dennis Favre, and I have become acquainted with Blossom Jones' great-granddaughter, Raja Jones, administrator of the OHSU hospital in Portland, Oregon. Dennis and I graduated Yale Law a few years ago."
"He lost his father and his father's partner lives with us. We have about eighty million dollars which we wish to bring up to scratch and tend for Oregon healthcare philanthropy. The problem for us is tending that fund."
"Let me shorten the call for you, my friend. Paulo texted me and gave me a brief synopsis. He recommended my approval of including those funds as a subset of the Schuyler fortune. We're very proud of our track record of making money from money and would be delighted to have our computers apply the same expertise for you."
"We would need to have those funds in an account at Schuyler bank in New York or can open a branch in Portland. Your call."
"If you open a branch here we'll put our small personal fortune in it and the trust money as well...all totaled about one hundred thirty-five million now. We'll also encourage the community here to take advantage of New York resources locally, although your marketing for the bank is your business, obviously."
"Done. I hope you know that you and Dennis and your 'father-in-law' are welcome at the Schuyler museum to stay anytime if you happen to visit Manhattan. The family would enjoy meeting you."
"Thank you. We'll keep that in mind. I appreciate your time this morning."
"Hey, us 'Joes' need to stick together. Take care now."
A couple of days later, Joe called Paulo to confirm the arrangements.
"Is it OK to assume that you will let us know when and where to wire funds to Schuyler bank?"
"We sent out a team to Portland yesterday. I brought my twin, Mateo and a couple of Schuyler trust building managers and we're looking at downtown properties with a business real estate broker today."
"I hope you're not staying in a hotel...we've a wonderfully comfortable home in the hills above Portland and would love to have all of you stay with us. Cars included, great home cooking included, warm fireplace too."