“What would you guys do?” Alex asked two long-time friends, John and Paul. The three of them had worked as a team throughout one intense year of residency. Three hundred sixty-five days and nights of brutal call in the Dark Ages of residency programs when program directors could exercise unregulated totalitarianism and demand unreasonably long hours. At every annual AANS meeting, the three met for drinks to swap war stories and seek each other’s advice. Alex had just explained to them the Meredith Costello case and wanted to hear their opinions.
John leaned back in his chair, hands knitted behind his beefy head. “You gave her the prescription?” It was the first day of the AANS meeting, which was being held in San Francisco; the three of them sat in the hotel lobby bar.
“I did. The lawyers have a copy of the prescription.”
Paul set his beer back on the square coaster. “The thing that bothers me is how does the sister have any idea what she did or didn’t discuss with you?”
“That’s the same thing that bothers me. I can’t get it out of my mind. But my lawyer keeps pushing me to settle out of court.”
“Fight it,” John said, leaving no question in Alex’s mind.