Tough as a tire iron and proud as a parson in paradise, Jeff Sanders, Private Investigator, was good at his job, always cool and always composed, never rancorous or rattled on the witness stand. Fit at 40, he was a wiz at bending the truth toward the side that hired him, but he never blatantly lied. "No yellow Jellyfish, that Jeff Sanders," the Chief of Police always said. He should see me now, Jeff thought.
Jeff had often sat on a marble bench in the hall outside a courtroom. But this time it was different. This time he slouched, head hanging down, bristled chin in hand, eyes closed waiting his turn to testify. His palms were as wet as his mouth was dry; his pallor merged seamlessly with his only rumpled white shirt, the one he reserved for court appearances. This time, there'd be no run-of-the-mill, roll-me-over-in?the-clover testimony.
Jeff was eyewitness to a horrifying homicide, called by the DA to testify for the People Versus Jimmy "Weasel" Ingra, the Godfather's hit man from Detroit and the Godfather himself. The Godfather got word to Jeff promising a long and languishing death if he ratted. The DA swished Jeff into witness protection. Bodyguards chaperoned him everywhere. It made dates with Alice pretty clumsy.
Even in guarded witness protection a crooked cop had come to see him. "The mob has bruisers bad as bloodhounds at search and destroy," the cop told him. "They can find a mite in a mile-high pile of muck and smash it into a droplet of dew on a dam. Everyone likes you, Sanders. Try to stay alive." Jeff had swallowed hard.
The great oak courtroom door opened. A cherubic face with double chin and dark curly hair appeared. "You're up next, Jeff. About 10 minutes," the bailiff said.
"Thanks, Herby," Jeff replied. "I'm about as ready as I'm ever going to be." Jeff knew that wasn't true.
The ten minutes that followed were the longest Jeff had ever known.
* * *
"The whole thing's a fluke," Jeff had told Alice at dinner last week. His petite blond girlfriend reached to take his hand in hers and squeezed it gently.
"Alice, I just want to get out of this alive and not hunted by hoods or wanted by the FBI. It's a fluke! I thought it was an ordinary climb ?the-fire-escape-and?get-pictures-of-the- dame-in-bed-with-a-lover and what do I see? The weasel was sitting on this DEA drug agent's face while the Godfather walloped the guy's ribs with a steel club 'til they're turned to sand. Then he makes mince meat of the guy's manhood. I got so scared I forgot to film it. The DA thinks I did take pictures and burned them. Honest, Alice, I didn't do that. But I did see it pretty clearly. If I hadn't lost my keys at the scene, the DA wouldn't know I was there." He squeezed her hand. "Aw, honey. I just want to get out alive and marry you." Alice forced a scared smile. The uniformed cop standing over by the door chuckled.
* * *
Jeff's heartbeat resonated rhythmically in his ears, a thumping metronome unable to distract him from his dreadful dilemma. He felt as vulnerable as a vulture on a weather vane.
Ten minutes to show time, Jeff told himself. I got to figure out what I'm gonna do. I'm not ready to die, but dammit, somebody's got to stop the mob. I tell it like it is, the Godfather goes down and his lieutenants come after me. I can say maybe I didn't see it all clearly. I was twenty-five yards away and the window was dirty. My glasses were smudged. How could I be sure beyond the shadow of a doubt? After all It was, night. It was cloudy. No moon. They were in a dark corner of a large room, from where I watched. I'd had a couple a beers before climbing that fire escape. I hadn't slept for a couple a days. He could bend the testimony in favor of the Godfather.
Jeff thought about his father. He didn't know why for sure, but he could see his father telling him, "When you lie, Jeff, you have to remember every detail or you'll get caught up in it." Jeff remembered his dad. In the dark he could still see himself sitting on his dad's knee, twirling dad's graying locks between the thumb and forefinger of one hand while sucking his thumb on the other. "Daddy, I don't want to tell any lies." He felt his throat choking, his eyes beginning to tear. He suppressed sobs..
Now he heard the screaming; the bones breaking; the explosive fart when the Godfather smashed the bat across the guy's belly. He smelled the sickening smell and heard the last yelp of the victim. Surely he died with that blow, Jeff thought.
Daddy, where are you? I need you, daddy, he thought. What should I do daddy? Daddy, I'm scared.
Then Alice jumped into his mind's eye. "I love you, Jeff," he could hear her saying. He could hear her voice cracking; see her eyes searching his soul. He felt her warm breath on his chest."I want you with me forever, Jeff."
"You can be a real hero, Jeff." Now it was the DA. "We got a good shot at putting these bastards so far away you'd need a space searching telescope to find them. Tell what you saw, Jeff. Just the truth."
"You have to remember your lie or you get caught in it, Jeff. Better, don't lie." It was his dad. Jeff rolled his left thumb against his forefinger and put he his right thumb in his mouth.
* * *
The bailiff's hand on his shoulder jolted Jeff back to reality. He looked up to see the policeman who guarded him unsnap the flap on his holster so the gun would come out easily. He rose. He pursed his lips, pulled down the back skirt of his jacket and then straightened his tie. "OK," he said. "Let's boogey."
Flanked by the bailiff and the policeman, Jeff stood straight and tall walking down the aisle. The back rows of the courtroom were filled with mostly shabby looking spectators. Some whispered as he walked by. "Nail 'em, Mr. Sanders. Give 'em hell" and things like that. Jeff recognized a few mobsters scattered in the crowd. They looked at him and shook their heads slowly. One of them raised his forefinger to his lips and nodded. Jeff clenched his teeth.
The bailiff opened the gate in front of the spectators' section and Jeff passed between two large desks covered with folders and files. The DA and his staff sat in wooden captain's chairs behind the desk to the left. Their suits had "Men's Warehouse" written all over them. The defense team sat on his right. Imported Italian duds, Jeff thought. The Godfather stared at Jeff and pursed his lips into an upside down smile. He looked like a fashion plate out of Gentlemen's Quarterly.
Then he saw Alice. Second to the left in the third row. She put on her stoic face made up perfectly as if her cosmetics were painted by numbers. No smile. No tears. A little like the Mona Lisa, Jeff thought. She glows. She always glows. A giant glob of molasses seemed to have gotten caught between Jeff's heavy heart and stiffened stomach.
At the witness stand Jeff stood. "Put your left hand on the bible, Mr. Sanders, and raise your right hand," the bailiff said. Jeff forced a smiled and complied. The bailiff spoke slowly:
"Jeffery Sanders, do you solemnly swear . . .?"
Satisfaction among patients as well as health care providers is as low as it has ever been. Even in the era of doctors making house calls, people had confidence in their doctor, who, back then, represented the health care system. Confidence was based on trust, that the doctor was offering the best treatment and advances possible. Today, patient trust is dwindling.
Yet, there is still a great deal of trust in doctors and nurses. In a recent poll, the professions that were most greatly admired and respected by the public, second to firemen, were doctors and nurses. Lack of confidence stems not from the health providers themselves, but from the system that the doctors and nurses work for.
Let's examine some potential areas eroding public confidence in our health care system:
1.) Speed: Our system has always moved quickly, but the current pace is nothing short of phrenetic. Oh yes, a doctor or nurse could move slower, but the price would be at the expense of patients who would not be seen or cared for that day. Health providers talk regrettably about treating paperwork more than their patients. Indeed, the amount of paperwork has increased exponentially and the "system" doesn't show any signs of slowing down. Insurance companies, particularly managed care, have heavily contributed to this additional layer of bureaucracy taking time away from patient care. At the risk of offending managed care companies, this is the truth. Managed care was originally designed to contain costs. But the impact on care of patients is one that has yet to be determined.
2.) Commercialization of health care: TV, radio and internet commercials ...erode public confidence. Patients regularly verbalize an overwhelmed and distorted image of the role of medication from media commercials. The patient is responding appropriately with questions and concerns about the treatments; the fault is not with the patient but with the misrepresentation of the treatment by the paid advertisement! And it works both ways, commercials can be suggestive, or implant resistance in patients who might genuinely benefit from a trial of medication. Patient's decisions are influenced by marketing, rather than medical facts, and that just doesn't make good clinical sense.
3.) "Pill popping society" stems in part from commercialization but also from a stressed society looking for ways to make it easier to cope
4.) Conventional health care has yet to accept natural modalities as part of its treatment regimens. Yet, public opinion on this matter is very evident. Annual spending on Complementay/Alternative health is well in the billions and rising each year. Yet, a large reason for this lack of integration into conventional health care remains lack of scientific research. Without large funding sources like pharmaceutical companies, natural treatments have been left largely to a word of mouth market. And the word has spread like wildfire. And most often from people with chronic health challenges whose health has been restored. Yet why haven't these potentially life-saving remedies been studied? In fact, for many health providers in conventional medicine, caring for people suffering with these chronic health challenges, it is heart wrenching not to be able to offer people more hope.
5.) The U.S. Health care system is rated 37th in the world according to the World Health Organization. Clearly these dismal results becry the need for health care solutions and transformation for the sake of our people.
Health: not simply the eradication of disease but the concept of healing, restoration and rejuvenation, particularly for those with chronic health conditions. Included in this is the incorporation of preventative health care into mainstream medicine.
Both Melvin M. Harter & Dr Mary Zennett are contributors for EditorialToday. The above articles have been edited for relevancy and timeliness. All write-ups, reviews, tips and guides published by EditorialToday.com and its partners or affiliates are for informational purposes only. They should not be used for any legal or any other type of advice. We do not endorse any author, contributor, writer or article posted by our team.
Melvin M. Harter has sinced written about articles on various topics from Writing. Melvin M. Harter is a retired physician. He specialized in evaluation of the causes and extent of injury and disability. He has become a freelance writer and author of the novel, Some Kind of Angel. This sci-fi thriller explores the world of terrorism, we. Melvin M. Harter's top article generates over 12100 views. to your Favourites.
Dr Mary Zennett has sinced written about articles on various topics from Writing, Medical Healthcare and Fitness. Citizens for Health Reform is a grassroots health empowerment initiative promoting patient centered strategies that integrate natural health into mainstream medicine. Data from a FREE ONLINE HEALTH SURVEY will educate legislators and the public at large.. Dr Mary Zennett's top article generates over 12100 views. to your Favourites.