“I tried. I was told to stop asking questions.”
Nothing in her face suggested she was lying.
“What am I supposed to do now?”
“Go to the hospital administration.”
“You think they’ll believe me?”
“If you show them those reports… they’ll have to.”
“I was told to stop asking questions.”
***
The next morning, I told Ben I was running home for a shower.
Instead, I walked into Hospital Administration and asked to speak to the administrator.
She listened quietly as I placed my phone on her desk.
She studied the photographs.
Then she opened Ben’s electronic medical file on her computer.
Her expression changed.
She opened Ben’s electronic medical file.
“These reports aren’t in his chart.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone replaced his medical record.”
“Can someone really do that?”
“Not legally.”
“Why would anyone?”
“These reports aren’t in his chart.”
She met my eyes.
“I don’t know.”
The honesty in her answer frightened me more than any explanation could have.
“If someone falsified your husband’s diagnosis, this has become a criminal matter,” she continued.
I swallowed.
She leaned forward. “Don’t let him know you’ve discovered any of this. Because if we’re right, whatever he’s planning hasn’t happened yet.”
“Whatever he’s planning hasn’t happened yet.”
That afternoon I walked back into Ben’s room carrying takeout soup.
He smiled with obvious relief and reached for my hand.
“I’ve been worrying. About what happens after I’m gone…”
A chill went down my spine. “What do you mean?”
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