I am still in the process of litigation with the hospital and mostly the doctor who delivered Chase. The depositions have been completed and so things are moving forward. My attorney said I did not have to be and he might not want me at the depositions, but that I would have full access to all of the transcripts. Knowing that they were complete, I called and asked to see Dr. Harkins' and they put it right in the mail to me.
Patric read it first and gave me his opinion or his perception of the transcript. From this, I thought that I was going to be really confused after I read it. I thought I would see the doctor as remorseful and regretful and as confused as I was with what happened. It was all what I wanted to hear. What I did not get after the trauma. An honest explanation of what happened to me and to my baby boy....from a man who was not only my doctor and caretaker, but also my friend. I felt so abandoned after Chase's death by him....in every sense of the word. I was so lost. So confused. So hurt. And so mad. And I thought all of this had finally come out in his deposition--it was his one last chance to explain to me what happened and say what he wanted to say....with the help of my attorney and his.
So the deposition came in the mail. Patric read it and told me about it. Then he gave it to me to read. But I couldn't. I wanted the time to be right. I wanted to not be distracted, not be interrupted, but to read the whole thing as if I was in the room listening. So it sat here on my desk for more than a week. Waiting for the right time, when there is no right time for something like this.
100 pages of deposition...and it was the quickest read ever. Because even when I get the opportunity to relive that horrible day and try to figure out how everything got so screwed up, it all goes even faster. I couldn't get through it fast enough. And I see how stupid this doctor is. How much MORE stupid he is than what I ever thought. His deposition is so completely incriminating to me it's insane. And now I can't wait to talk to my lawyer tomorrow. Because half the time I read the documents from my attorney, my interpretation is so far off base from what they are saying (in all that legal jargon), that I think it's white when actually it's black and it's on our side. But what I read in that deposition was exactly what I thought the entire time. The arrogance, the incompetency. All of it. When I read it, I can hear his tone of voice, his innuendoes, his condescending attitude, his duplicity. And its rough. It's hard to read. But I've needed to hear this for so long. And for me, it's therapeutic. Reading his interpretation, even if it is for the attorneys, of the surgery that he did on me was healing. Hearing the horror even from his side.....something I that at one point I doubted that he even felt.
So I read this deposition with my baby boy in my arms. My healthy, alive, sleeping baby boy. And my heart aches for what should have been, at the same time that it melts for what is. I am so blessed with Owen. I truly believe he has his brother in him. Side note: I took him to the doctor because I thought he had an earache (duh, just overreacted to teething, oh well). This was a new doctor who does not know anything about us, not medically or anything. He took one look at Owen and asked how old he was and said, "oh, he looks so much older. Not in a bad way, just wise beyond his years sort of, you know?" I thought, man, doctor, if you only knew. My little boy is so much more than what you see. If only you knew....