Silent Epidemic (Book 1 - Carol Freeman Series)

by Jill Province

  A woman answered the phone and Carol attempted to identify herself and her connection to the drug study.  She always felt compelled to explain herself when calling someone of the opposite sex and their significant other answered the phone.  She could not help but notice that the woman was unusually cold to her and resistant about putting her husband on the phone.  Carol waited for the woman to finish her exaggerated breathing that she guessed was supposed to convey annoyance.

  Finally Brian came to the phone.  “What was that all about?" Carol inquired. 

  “Don’t ask," Brian said, obviously unable to explain any further. 

  “Well, how are you feeling?"  

  “Do you remember what the first few weeks were like?"    

  “Unfortunately, I do," Carol stated. 

  “Do you need to know more?"    

  “Damn," Carol said. 

  “Well, it will pass," he reasoned.  “At least this time, I know what’s causing it.  That helps." 

  Carol did not have the heart to burden Brian with details about her strange conversation with Dominex or to ask him to do anything.  She remembered how hard it was just to lift her arms off the bed.  It wasn’t that she was so much better now.  She was just getting used to living this way.

  Carol told Brian she would check on him during the day when he was a little freer to talk.  “I’ll be here," he said, sadly. 

  “It’ll get better," she said reassuringly, and hung up.  Poor Brian.  She couldn’t imagine going through the early stages of withdrawal twice.   This, compounded by whatever was going on over there. It didn’t sound like he was getting a whole lot of understanding.  Carol walked over to Josh and hugged him from behind. 

  “What was that for?" he asked. 

  “Putting up with me."  

  “Do I have a choice?" Josh laughed. 

  “No," she said, and walked off to find dinner.

  After a quick dinner of eggs and toast, Carol spotted the empty seat at the computer.  She decided to take advantage of the time.  Carol drafted a letter to the Georgia State Medical Board, outlining her suspicion of Doctor Donovan, evidenced by the drug screen she had done on “one of the study volunteers.” She knew full well that she couldn’t submit a drug screen to them with Lorenzo White’s name on it.  She should have taken the extra time to open a chart on Brian, but her energy and her mind didn’t go the distance these days.  Hopefully, they would investigate the doctor’s office first and find what they needed.  With any real luck, they would even be able to tie the doctor’s activities to Dominex.  In either case, she hoped the reference to the drug screen would motivate a visit to the doctor, but that there would be no need to actually submit any hard copy evidence.

  Carol printed the final version of her letter and then ran the envelope through the printer as well.  Very official looking.

  Josh returned to his domain, just as she was sealing the envelope.  “Could you put this in the mail box?" Carol asked.  

  She watched him walk to the box, swing the little red flag in the up position, and turn to come back to the house.  The wheel had been set in motion.  Now it was up to them.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

   

  Brian and his wife Pam were growing further apart with each passing day.  She had been very much in favor of the vitamin doctor, especially after Brian had started feeling better.  He had started looking and acting like his old self again.  But since this “Carol” person had intervened and convinced him that he had a drug problem, their lives had turned to shit.

  “I don’t want you talking to that person anymore," Pam yelled.  They had been yelling at each other for the past ten minutes, and Brian was now hyperventilating from the additional stress on his withdrawal.

  “At least she seems to care about what happens to me," Brian said between short gasps of breaths.  He had given up trying to match Pam’s volume.  He didn’t have the strength. 

  “And what the hell’s that supposed to mean?" Pam yelled even louder. 

  “Pam," Brian said weakly, “figure it out yourself.  In case you haven’t noticed – or maybe it’s just that you don’t care – I am about to collapse.  This argument is over."

  Pam began to shake with anger.  “You are such a wimp," she yelled.  “You were a wimp before your alleged addiction, and you’re a bigger one now."  Brian looked up at the woman attacking him.  This had been his favorite person in the whole world and now she was his worst enemy. 

  “Pam," Brian said finally, after catching his breath.  “Maybe my real problem is this alleged marriage."

  A deer suddenly blinded by headlights.  That was the best description of the raging Pam as she looked wide-eyed at her husband.  He had never stood up to her before in such a decisive way.  “What are you saying?" she asked finally.  She was no longer yelling. 

  “I don’t know yet," Brian answered.  He had been just as surprised as Pam was when the words had come out of his mouth.  It wasn’t that he hadn’t been thinking it for a long time, but out loud – that made it official.

  “Pam," Brian said.  “I’m sick.  And your lack of ability to understand that fact doesn’t change the truth.  This is the most horrible and frightening thing that has ever happened to me.  I will not defend myself to you one minute longer.”  Brian closed his eyes and worked on slowing his breathing down while his wife continued to look at him.  She knew the debate was over. 

  How did this drug come into their lives?  They had been the perfect couple with great careers, great friends, and all the other material things that made up the perfect marriage.  Pam had been clueless about her husband’s discontent.  Sure they had a few heated discussions about having children, but she had been convinced that he had gotten over that silly fantasy long ago.  She wanted her old life back.  She had no use for all this talk about addiction and recovery.  They were still young.  They were supposed to be out having fun.  How would she ever explain this to her friends?  She quietly left the room.

      

  It was about three o’clock in the morning, and the house was quiet now.  Brian felt as though a giant weight had been removed from his shoulders.  His wife had gone to bed without saying a word to him while he had remained in the only place where he could contain his anxiety.  He didn’t know where they were headed, but he was certain it would not be back to the way things had been before.  Brian clicked off the TV with the remote and lay back in the recliner.  He doubted he could sleep, but the blurred view of the TV was more than his poor eyes could take any longer.  It would be another very long night.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  Carol tossed and turned in a fitful sleep. In her dream she voluntarily placed one arm onto a large commercial paper cutter, the blade neatly hacked it off.  She placed the other arm onto the cutting device, and lost the second one in the same efficient manner.  There was no blood.  Just two neatly severed stubs.  In the next instant, she was sitting behind the wheel of a car.  It was racing off the road, but because Carol didn’t have any arms, she was unable to grab the steering wheel and guide the speeding car back to a safe path.  She was a prisoner, going ninety miles an hour off a steep embankment into the canyon below.  Just as the car flew into the misty void, Carol awoke in terror. 

  Breathlessly, she rolled over and looked at her sleeping husband.  Apparently her final screams had stayed lodged in her throat.  She glanced at the clock.  It was 3:00 AM, the worst time of the night for a withdrawal victim.  Carol knew from experience that for the next two hours, sleep would be impossible.  She quietly got up to ride out the rest of the night in front of the TV.  

  At eight thirty, a hand was gently nudging her.  Carol opened her eyes, sore from little sleep, and glanced at Josh.  “Thought you’d like a wakeup call," he offered apologetically.  He was used to finding her asl
eep on the couch. 

  “Guess I actually dozed back off," she said weakly.  

  Carol desperately wished she could stay home.  The anxiety attack of the day before had left her feeling very tentative about the drive to work.  She had a creepy sensation every time she got into the car, and was getting tired of the daily battle.  But today, it was a little more than just a creepy feeling.  The phobias and nightmares that went along with sedative withdrawal were far reaching, and its victim had to work minute by minute to push through it.  There was a very thin line between the real world and the perceived reality she was living in.  Logic and reason had to prevail, but she had often ventured through each illusion, clearly seeing one image and telling herself that it wasn’t there.  Each day was an act of faith.

  Carol grudgingly got herself up and dressed.  She was already exhausted, and it was only nine in the morning.  She was in the process of forcing herself to leave the house and get into the dreaded car, but just as she was about to close the front door, the phone began to ring.  Carol was happy for any delay, and turned around to answer it. 

  “Carol," the caller began, “This is Vicky Manson.  I used to work at Newberg Mental Health." 

  “I know who you are," Carol said happily.  “How have you been doing?" 

  “Fine, since I quit working at that place."  Carol still worked at that place, and wasn’t sure how far she should get into this.  But lately she had stopped worrying about her position at work. 

  “I think what they did to you was despicable," Carol said finally. 

  “It’s okay," Vicky answered.  “Things had gotten out of hand long before they transferred me to Central Intake." 

  “Really?" Carol asked incredulously.  “I thought maybe it was just me."    

  “They have a funny way of making you think that," Vicky agreed.  “I couldn’t say anything while I was working there, but I wanted to touch base with you now that I am gone.”  Carol waited for Vicky to continue.  “I had reported one of the adolescent counselors there for having an affair with a client’s father.  I went through the right process, first talking to the counselor, then going to the department supervisor."  Carol needed to sit down.  These were her lovely co-workers at their best.  “Anyway," Vicky continued, “this particular counselor has been at Newberg for about a thousand years, so no one did anything about it and the affair continued.  I finally reported it to the Center Director and Tri -County Human Resources."

  “Wow," Carol said.  “You had guts, lady." 

  “I had to report it,” Vicky argued.  “Isn’t that what they drum into us from day one?  If you are aware of an ethical violation and you do nothing, you are as guilty of the offense as the one committing it." 

  “In a perfect world," Carol said, “the offender gets punished.  In this world, they make the problem quietly go away." 

  “Well, I don’t know if they accomplished the quiet part," Vicky laughed.  “I made one hell of stink before I resigned." 

  “There are way too many of them," Carol said.  “I’m sure that by the time they got done with your employee file, you came off as a lunatic." 

  “No doubt," Vicky agreed.  “Anyway, it doesn’t matter.  I started a private practice, and I wish I’d done it sooner." 

  “That’s great," Carol said.  “Now I don’t feel so bad about what happened to you." 

  “Listen," Vicky said, “you are one of the good ones.  If you stay there too long, they will suck all the good right out of you." 

  “I know," Carol laughed.  “I’m so glad you called.  Good luck with your new venture." 

  “Good luck to you too," Vicky answered.  “As long as you stay in the Buck Spears Empire, you’ll need it.  Be careful, okay?"  

  “I will," Carol said.  “Bye."  

  Carol went down to her car and sat for a while, staring at the garage wall.  That whole manager’s meeting had been orchestrated just as she had thought.  The main reason she had been demoted was that she hadn’t learned to be like them.  Spears needed people like the other managers.  The kind who would plan and conspire, neatly working together to pull off whatever plan he needed implemented.  Despicable people.  Carol backed out of the garage and prayed that it would be a very slow and uneventful day. 

  * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     

  Josh Freeman gave himself the afternoon off from his landscape adventure.  He had a tentative plan and wanted to get home to do some research.  The Dominex Company had stock whose value was going through the roof.  Yet, all was not well.  From the small insight he had through Carol’s personal experience, the study was going quickly to hell. 

  Josh sat down at the computer and typed in “Valipene withdrawal."  After a few seconds, the computer responded with 13,496 web sites.  Quite a lot of activity for a harmless medication.  Josh began pulling up each one and reading the information.  Some of the web sites were set up by individuals sharing their personal stories about what had happened to them, as a result of taking the drug.  The information was powerful and alarming. 

  Next, he went to the FDA’s web site and attempted to find information or statistics on past complaints about Valipene.  The Web sites on Valipene withdrawal were packed with references to former complaints, and there were even a few on line petitions in the process of being completed.  But there was very little acknowledgement of potential problems at the FDA site.  Interesting, Josh thought. 

  If Dominex’s current stock value was any indication, there seemed to be a sense of confidence that things would remain quiet.  Josh typed in Dominex Pharmaceuticals and waited to see if there was any public information about them on the Internet.  After several seconds, Josh was offered a swirling graphic design, inviting him to click on the “enter” icon for a tour of the facility.  We’re going in. 

  Dominex, a Georgia based corporation, resides in Atlanta in a downtown high-rise building.  Their manufacturing plant is located south of the city, and covers two hundred and fifty acres.  

  Nice pictures, but let’s see if we can find out anything about the real Dominex.  Josh clicked on history.

  The company had been founded by a Charles Roman Sr. in 1943. There was a picture of a distinguished looking gentleman wearing a hard hat and standing by other workers in an assembly line.  The company had focused primarily on anti-convulsive and arthritis medications until recently.  Roman Sr. retired in 1993, turning over the business to his son, Charles Roman Jr.  There was a picture of a fairly handsome, cocky looking man standing at a new construction site.  He was cutting a yellow ribbon, while other official looking people in dresses and business suits were cheering.  The caption read, “Moving onward and upward with Suprame.  Now people won’t have to pay a fortune to feel fortunate.”  That’s really terrible.  He knew a few people who were currently not feeling very fortunate.

  So, the company had moved along modestly, until recently.  Now they are pushing into the sedative market, and not by conventional means.  As long as Dominex maintained the image of successful growing company, the stock would remain where it was.  But if something went wrong – say, an unfortunate letter made its way to a medical board – the dive would happen so fast, no one would have time to react.  People could lose millions.

  He had seen enough.  Josh continued to type and click until he was satisfied with his decision and his position.  I love this game.   He went on to study other charts.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

   

  Doctor Donovan had been put on the alert.  The fact that the pills he had been handing out were not vitamins had become public knowledge.  It was a stupid idea to begin with.  He didn’t mind discarding the remaining sedatives, or being called upon to deal with Dominex’s sick volunteers another way.  What he minded very much was the idea that anyone would be snooping around his
practice.  He had managed to avoid being in the spotlight a long time, and now his greed for Dominex’s business had put an end to all that.

  His office staff had been editing all the Dominex patient files.  Some pages were discarded completely and new pages were written in their place.  It was easy to alter records when no prescriptions were filled and no insurance companies were billed.  Those two outside processes would have created their own paper trail that once set in motion, would have been almost impossible to go back and alter. But neither of those had been necessary in this case.  Dr. Donovan had supplied the medication and Dominex had covered the cost.  The buck stopped at Donovan’s office.  It was fairly simple disaster control.

  The remaining dilemma was how to continue treating Dominex’s study victims.  There was little that could be done for patients in sedative withdrawal.  Their choices were clearly to go back on the medication or to ride out the withdrawal process.  This was a process that Donovan was sure many of them would not choose to go through.  The only other alternative was now a moot point.  If the volunteers had not stopped their medication abruptly, they could have been slowly weaned off the stuff and lessened the intensity of their withdrawal.  But by the time they had come to him it was no longer a possibility.  Besides, the whole point of this little exercise had been to prove that a patient could easily stop taking Valipene anytime without any problems.  They had been blind idiots to attempt such a venture without any real back up plan in place.  Donovan could have predicted this outcome long before they had ever started this futile experiment.

  The doctor had met with Jeff Edwards and Sam Reynolds to discuss an appropriate plan of action.  The plan they had all finally agreed on was to switch the medication in the envelopes and replace it with true vitamins.  The patients would quickly return to their prior condition and Donovan would assume the role of perplexed physician.  He would explain that for some patients, he had found that the vitamins only had a very short-term effect.  Saddened by this conclusion, he would recommend that they resume their medication.  If the patient declined to follow his advice they would be doing so with the knowledge that the withdrawal would return.