Predators in private practice

Five years at Cook County Hospital transformed Dr. Brad Rosedale into an experienced trauma surgeon who wouldn’t flinch at the sight of the worst carnage. No matter how much blood, how many broken bones, or how bad was the mangled extremity, each body part was a challenge that he could fix and usually restore to proper function. The Uzi machine gun victims, suicide jumpers, and nerve and artery repairs from sword slashes, no longer made him anxious, wondering “how the hell are we going to fix this.” Now, it was just another day or night on the job.

Chicago was a glittering city of polar opposites, an incongruous melting pot of diversity where somehow everything got done that needed to be done.  He loved the city, but for the winter that set a record -26 below zero, and nearly froze his thumb off. All he did was carry an open bottle of beer in his bare hand out of a bar and across a street to another bar. It took days to get the feeling back. That same winter, cursing with rage until the police showed up, he ruined a  transmission trying to get his car out of a foot of ice that had formed over the weekend. By the time he made it to his final year of residency, he was set to return to sunny California.

Barney Black, MD, an orthopedic surgeon in Fremont, California advertised that he was so busy, a local hospital would guarantee $30,000 a month to a new partner for his orthopedic practice. Brad flew out to get wined and dined by the hospital CEO and Dr. Black,  signed the contract, and his path was set. Relocating to the San Francisco Bay Area, soon he was working 7 days a week and collecting 15-20,000 dollars a month under Dr. Black’s management, with the hospital supplementing his income to bring it to $30k each month.

The money fed his impulses.  As soon as he could qualify, he dumped his Corolla and got a loan for a new BMW. Then he broke the lease on his apartment and moved into a spacious home with a distant view of the Bay which glittered like gold in the sunset. Then he filled the house with nice furniture and a high-end sound system.  It was amusing to see the sales managers fall all over him when they saw the doctor with a written income guarantee of $30k a month.  At the hospital, the nurses were trying to set him with their most eligible friends.

Problems with the contract arose. He had to bring in $30,000 per month from his own services within 12 months, at which time the hospital would cut him off. Even working more hours than Dr. Black, working 7 days a week, that wasn’t happening. One,  Black was giving him office expense bills that were hitting $20,000 a month. Two, he had agreed to take all the uninsured patients, but hadn’t anticipated that would be so many.  Dr. Black was cleverly using the hospital contract to make money from Brad. The whole thing had been a set-up.

At the end of a year, the hospital stopped the reimbursements, as per the contract. Feeling entitled to his glamorous lifestyle, rather than give any of it up, Brad got behind on his payments to Black, and tried to negotiate.  Black stopped talking to him, and  tension dragged on until  a letter came from a lawyer, advising Brad that he was being sued for back expenses, and payment of $85,000 was demanded immediately.

Brad got angry. But the only way he could hurt Barney Black short of physical violence, was to declare bankruptcy. He gave up the house, the car, and whatever collections were coming in. When Black found out he wasn’t going to get the money, he rampaged, smashing Brad’s computer and desk. People said they could hear his screams around the building. Then over one weekend, he packed up his family and moved out of state.

Brad moved down the hall to a smaller office. Black’s abandoned patients now lined up to see him. It felt good knowing people liked him, even when he was broke. He worked even harder, knowing all the collections were now his, and with no landlord to pay. He hired an office manager who talked him into a $20,000 computer system that would automate everything and do the billing. She inspired Brad to become his own businessman, and he signed the order. Then the manager pulled a big one over on him.

The fancy PC system with multiple terminals and all the accessories arrived at the office. Two weeks later, a second identical system arrived, to the doctor’s surprise. The manager made a big fuss that the vendor had erred, and that she would return it. It was easy to hide the fact that she had paid another $20,000 for the second system. When the refund came, she pocketed the $20,000, suddenly resigned, and left town. It took two months for Brad to learn of the embezzlement, which was only because he hired an expensive consultant to come and get the collections going. Not only was he bankrupt, but the collections were barely trickling in. The manager had left stacks of unsent bills for his services.

Dr. Rosedale has been financially ruined by predators, and drained from lack of sleep and late nights in surgery.  He struggles to remember what made him want to succeed. Superman? The absurdity of the thought makes him laugh through the pain of failure. Helping people? Which people? What about the soulmate he was so sure he will find? All he gets is an endless parade of women who want to use him for their own agenda.

Perhaps it was time to abort the mission.