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Edward Thatcher was not a good person. He'd always known this, he'd come to accept it as his lot in life. A cruel, vindictive man. Manipulative, angry, spiteful… The list went on. How he was able to score a job in a pediatric hospital? Beyond him. He hated kids, hated how they whined and cried out for attention. Still, he had never crossed a line. He tried to hold himself to the Hippocratic oath he'd sworn when he got his doctorate.
But he'd always been curious. Nothing was really stopping him, after all. Patients died all the time, he saw death daily. Would it really be that bad?
And then he met Micha. A sick little thing, but her health had been increasing. If he left her be, let the rest of her team keep up with her current treatments, she would be out of the hospital in a years time. She could be a normal kid.
Patients could flip on a dime, though. The healthy could suddenly become deeply sick, bedridden. Dead. All he needed was a plausible reason to switch treatment plans for her. And, he thinks he might have an idea.
See, she'd been complaining of extreme thirst as of late, and her mother and nurses would mention frequent urination, not to mention her increased appetite with 'unexplained' weight loss. Now, of course, he knew these were just common side effects of the medication she was currently taking, but he could easily, so damn easily, spin it as a type 1 diabetes diagnosis. Then, she'd have to start taking insulin on top of all her other medications. And then it would be so easy…
He set his plan in motion in mid June. Now, of course, she didn't need insulin. She wasn't diabetic, but as the lead doctor on her team, who could argue with him? He knew best.
Her health would begin to decline again, giving him more of an excuse to slowly up her medication, push the limits. He wasn't scared of consequences, he knew there was no way legal charges could be pressed. Besides, if he was breaking his oath, he might as well go all the way.
Today, August 4th, 2020. He had taken her glucose levels, but he purposefully botched the reading. Now she'd need insulin again. The young girl fought and whined when he explained it to her in a faux gentle tone.
He gave her a too high dosage. Lethal. Of course, he had to monitor her for an hour while the medicine is being administered. It was standard procedure. He was being a good doctor. He was doing his job.
Micha was awful quiet for the first few minutes. Thankfully, her mother had been away this weekend, so Thatcher only had to explain himself to her medical team at the moment. He already formed an excuse in his head for when they broke the news to Mrs. Tanner. 'It happened so fast, there was nothing we could do'.
And then Micha started breathing heavy, eyes darting around anxiously. She clutched her chest, whining in obvious distress. Thatcher was silent. He knew she would go into cardiac arrest any second. He'd call the code blue, they'd attempt to resuscitate her, but it'd be no use. She would never get to grow up, a life wasted, withered away in the hospital. He almost felt pity. Almost.
"D-doctor T?" Micha calls nervously, and Thatcher glances over at her, a bored look on his face.
"Yes, Micha?" He doesn't really care what she has to say, really. It holds no value to him if she'll be dead within minutes.
"My… my chest hurts. I'm scared!" She's crying, oh how he hates that sound. He wants her to shut up already, keel over. Spare him the theatrics.
"The medicine can cause heart palpitations. This is normal. You're fine, Micha." He's lying through his teeth. It's not normal, she's going to have a heart attack.
She goes quiet again. He can hear her sniffling every couple minutes. He's watching the clock, beginning to worry he'd given her too small a dose. He had made sure to give himself plausible deniability, a way out consequence free.
Then, Micha's breathing picks up again, and she begins twitching. The heart rate monitor is beeping urgently. She's having a heart attack. Quickly, he slams the code blue button just behind the bed. Next, he stopped the IV drip. He was rushing, he had to look like he was trying to help as doctors and nurses rush in. Micha's terrified, but she can't speak. She's holding her chest tightly. He imagines it must hurt.
"She's having a heart attack," Thatcher informs one of the doctors.
Quickly, they attempted various things. She was hooked to a defibrillator, they intubated her to secure her airway, they administered epinephrine, nothing works. Her heart stops. They try to resuscitate her for 30 minutes, but it's no use. She's gone.
Thatcher had finally crossed a line. He broke his oath. He was a monster, wasn't he?
He stepped out while the rest of the team scrambled, doing the usual protocol. An autopsy was ordered, the time of death was marked. He goes to have a cigarette. It's a nasty habit he doesn't often indulge in, but he thinks he's earned one.
He had a lot to think about.