education and psychiatric acumen—not to mention Max’s recent encounters with Jonas—will leave her friend no choice but to urge Danielle to accept Maitland’s diagnosis. This she cannot bear. Most of all, she wants to explore these issues with Max, but that is impossible—at least for now. If Max’s fear of losing his sanity has escalated so dramatically that he wants nothing other than to kill himself, then she cannot risk even a gentle probe into the darkness of his mind.
She tries to focus. The first order of business today is to find out how Maitland has the gall to demand that Max be surrendered for immediate, indefinite residential treatment—not the least of which is their intention to give him electroshock therapy without her knowledge, much less her consent. Her mind is already drafting the temporary restraining order to stop Maitland dead in their tracks on that one.
Danielle hastily researched ECT therapy on the Web last night. What she learned terrifies her: seizures are induced in the brain by brief bursts of high voltage and alternating current. This allegedly modifies neurotransmitters believed to cause severe mental illnesses. The risks include brain damage, seizures, cerebral hemorrhage, permanent memory loss—and death. The explanation concluded with the caveat that the use of this method—despite its return to popularity and the successes claimed—is still extremely controversial. No shit, she thinks.
“Ms. Parkman.” Reyes-Moreno’s kind smile is an oasis in the desert.
Danielle almost smiles back until she remembers the computer entry that questioned her emotional “lability” and her relationship with Max. Is she the one who wrote all that garbage, all those lies? “Hello, Doctor,” she says coolly.
The rest of the entourage, including Dwayne, files intothe room. As they take their places, Danielle reminds herself that there are all kinds of courtrooms in life, and all manner of adversaries.
Reyes-Moreno sits in the pole position at the head of the table. Fastow, on her left, regards Danielle with gelid, unpleasant eyes. His chair is not pulled up to the table, as if to broadcast his disengagement from and disdain for the proceedings. She still can’t stand the guy—no matter what kind of genius he may be. The other doctors take their seats and stare thickly at their files, sheep mourning their wool after shearing.
“Shall we begin?” Reyes-Moreno doesn’t ask the question as if she expects an answer.
“By all means.”
“Danielle.” Her green gaze is straight and true. “I understand that you have asked to meet because you have certain questions about the validity of our collective diagnosis.” She raises her hand slightly before Danielle can say anything. “I also understand that you are reluctant to sign the necessary papers which would commit Max to our care for another year.”
“That is correct.” Her words are frozen bullets. “I want a detailed explanation of how the team concluded that my son is schizoaffective and psychotic.”
Reyes-Moreno nods sympathetically. “Danielle, I’ve given you the reasons for our diagnosis. Perhaps you were too upset at the time to process it completely. Is there something you don’t understand? We’ll be happy to explain it to you.”
“No, Doctor,” she says. “What I want is a copy of Max’s file—with every notation and observation upon which you base your diagnosis.”
Reyes-Moreno’s smile shrinks. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“Why not?”
“I hope you understand that we are not unwilling to accede to your request, but are simply unable to do so.” Her eyes are calm, but firm. “As an attorney, surely you are aware that Max’s file is protected by the physician-patient privilege. While we are required to explain Max’s diagnosis to you, we are not at liberty to reveal our underlying observations. Of course, if you feel that you need documentation to confirm our diagnosis, I urge
She tries to focus. The first order of business today is to find out how Maitland has the gall to demand that Max be surrendered for immediate, indefinite residential treatment—not the least of which is their intention to give him electroshock therapy without her knowledge, much less her consent. Her mind is already drafting the temporary restraining order to stop Maitland dead in their tracks on that one.
Danielle hastily researched ECT therapy on the Web last night. What she learned terrifies her: seizures are induced in the brain by brief bursts of high voltage and alternating current. This allegedly modifies neurotransmitters believed to cause severe mental illnesses. The risks include brain damage, seizures, cerebral hemorrhage, permanent memory loss—and death. The explanation concluded with the caveat that the use of this method—despite its return to popularity and the successes claimed—is still extremely controversial. No shit, she thinks.
“Ms. Parkman.” Reyes-Moreno’s kind smile is an oasis in the desert.
Danielle almost smiles back until she remembers the computer entry that questioned her emotional “lability” and her relationship with Max. Is she the one who wrote all that garbage, all those lies? “Hello, Doctor,” she says coolly.
The rest of the entourage, including Dwayne, files intothe room. As they take their places, Danielle reminds herself that there are all kinds of courtrooms in life, and all manner of adversaries.
Reyes-Moreno sits in the pole position at the head of the table. Fastow, on her left, regards Danielle with gelid, unpleasant eyes. His chair is not pulled up to the table, as if to broadcast his disengagement from and disdain for the proceedings. She still can’t stand the guy—no matter what kind of genius he may be. The other doctors take their seats and stare thickly at their files, sheep mourning their wool after shearing.
“Shall we begin?” Reyes-Moreno doesn’t ask the question as if she expects an answer.
“By all means.”
“Danielle.” Her green gaze is straight and true. “I understand that you have asked to meet because you have certain questions about the validity of our collective diagnosis.” She raises her hand slightly before Danielle can say anything. “I also understand that you are reluctant to sign the necessary papers which would commit Max to our care for another year.”
“That is correct.” Her words are frozen bullets. “I want a detailed explanation of how the team concluded that my son is schizoaffective and psychotic.”
Reyes-Moreno nods sympathetically. “Danielle, I’ve given you the reasons for our diagnosis. Perhaps you were too upset at the time to process it completely. Is there something you don’t understand? We’ll be happy to explain it to you.”
“No, Doctor,” she says. “What I want is a copy of Max’s file—with every notation and observation upon which you base your diagnosis.”
Reyes-Moreno’s smile shrinks. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“Why not?”
“I hope you understand that we are not unwilling to accede to your request, but are simply unable to do so.” Her eyes are calm, but firm. “As an attorney, surely you are aware that Max’s file is protected by the physician-patient privilege. While we are required to explain Max’s diagnosis to you, we are not at liberty to reveal our underlying observations. Of course, if you feel that you need documentation to confirm our diagnosis, I urge
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