20
Dok sat at her office desk, the early morning light filtering through the window, casting a soft glow on the scattered patient files. She glanced at the clock. Wren should be here any minute. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and whispered a quick prayer. This conversation had to be handled with care. “Help me, Holy Spirit,” she whispered, knowing she needed guidance and wisdom. She couldn’t afford to reveal too much, not when she didn’t know exactly what Wren planned to do with this information.
She heard the front door open and pushed the files slightly to the side but kept them within reach. She cupped her hands around her mouth to call out. “I’m in my office.” When Wren appeared at the door’s threshold, she lifted a hand toward a chair. “Thanks for coming in early.”
Wren nodded as she took a seat. “Of course. You said to be in your office by seven o’clock.” She patted her thighs. “So here I am.” Her gaze flickered to the files on the desk, then back to Dok.
“I’ve had a chance to review the files,” Dok said, watching Wren’s reaction. “It’s clear that these three Amish women didn’t know they were part of a clinical trial.”
Wren’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she remained silent, waiting for Dok to continue.
Dok took another deep breath. “It does seem that Dr. Finegold didn’t fully disclose the nature of the treatment to these women. And considering the Amish community’s general lack of familiarity with medical trials, it’s no surprise they didn’t question it.”
“So then,” Wren said, “my findings were accurate.”
“Yes.” Silence followed, hanging heavily in the air. “Wren, what do you want to do with this information?”
“It seems to me that the affected women and their families should receive some form of justice.”
“In what way?”
“There’s a class action lawsuit already underway to sue Pharmogen for negligence.”
Dok’s eyebrows shot up. She didn’t see that coming. “You didn’t just stumble on these files, did you?”
Wren looked down at her hands for a long moment.
“Baker is a common name among the German. Common among the Plain people, too, though more common in Ohio than in Lancaster. Still, it didn’t take much digging to find a connection.” Dok picked up the top file. “This file belongs to your grandmother, doesn’t it?”
Wren didn’t flinch. It was as if she’d been expecting Dok to figure that out. “Yes. Mary Baker was my father’s mother.”
“This file is why you applied to my practice for your residency, isn’t it?”
Wren met her gaze evenly. “I’d learned about the lawsuit during my last year of med school. I had a pretty good idea that my grandmother might have been in that clinical trial. But I needed proof.” She shrugged. “I have to admit that I didn’t expect to find the proof just sitting in your basement. It was so easy. Like it was waiting for me.”
Dok ignored that. “Tell me about your grandmother.”
“She and my grandfather met in Ohio and married, and then came to Stoney Ridge because of some problem in their church. I’m not sure what it was, but I do know they had no relatives here. And then they had twins, a girl and a boy. The boy was my father. From what I know, she ended up suffering from PPD. So, from what I can gather in her patient file, she came to Dr. Finegold for help, and he put her on Serofem. The drug only made everything worse for her. At that point, my grandparents left the Amish and then my grandmother died in her mid-twenties. My dad and his sister were barely two years old when she passed.”
“Do you know what caused her death?”
“No one would talk about it, which makes me pretty sure that she took her own life. And I wonder if the drug had something to do with that too.”
Dok scrunched up her face. “That’s a big leap.”
“Clinical trials can create all kinds of dangerous side effects.”
“True, there are risks, but they’re also crucial. That’s how the medical field figures out if new treatments are safe and actually work. And I’m sure you know from med school that the benefits are worth the risks—life-saving medications, better ways to manage diseases, and major advancements in what we know. A clinical trial can be a gamble, but it’s the only way to move things forward.”
Wren narrowed her eyes. “Yet my grandmother—and those other two women—they weren’t informed of the risks.”
Dok glanced at the three files spread out on her desk, feeling a knot in her stomach. After reading through them, she couldn’t deny that. “You’re right, Wren. It looks like they were only told about the benefits. That’s not acceptable.”
“So you agree?” Wren leaned forward, eyes bright. “There’s enough evidence in those files to become eligible plaintiffs in the lawsuit, isn’t there? I already spoke to the attorney who’s representing the plaintiffs. All the groundwork has already beenlaid. There’s no costs to the plaintiffs. To opt in, I just need to provide evidence that these women participated in the clinical trial and suffered resulting harm.” Wren snapped her fingers. “Easy.” Her mouth twisted. “But the deadline is approaching soon, so we need to keep this moving forward.”
Dok froze, her thoughts swirling. This was one of those moments in which she could sense a bright yellow Sharpie pen highlighting her Plain roots deep in her soul. Her life’s work was to help others, not to judge them, especially in a court of law. She took a deep breath, grappling with the conflict inside her, trying to set it aside for now. Dok looked at Wren’s face, awed by her composure. She was too calm.If this were me,if I’d found thisinformation about my grandmother,I would feel angry.But Wren didn’t seem angry. “Why come to me? Why not go straight to the attorney with your grandmother’s file?”
Wren put her hands on her knees, her eyes intense. “It would help the case if I could present documentation from all three families. But I need you to speak to those descendants.”
