{"id":7429,"date":"2011-04-15T00:41:11","date_gmt":"2011-04-15T05:41:11","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/\/?p=7429"},"modified":"2011-04-14T23:43:11","modified_gmt":"2011-04-15T04:43:11","slug":"diagnosis-death-by-richard-l-mabry-md","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=7429","title":{"rendered":"Diagnosis Death by Richard L. Mabry, MD"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>\"\"<\/a>It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a><\/strong><\/span> book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Today’s Wild Card author is: <\/strong><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Richard L. Mabry, MD<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

and the book:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Diagnosis Death<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Abingdon Press (April 2011)<\/p>\n

***Special thanks to Julie A. Dowd, Marketing Manager, The United Methodist Publishing House for sending me a review copy.***<\/p>\n

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>Richard L. Mabry, MD, is a retired physician and medical school professor who achieved worldwide recognition as a writer, speaker, and teacher before turning his talents to non-medical writing after his retirement. His first novel, Code Blue, was published by Abingdon in the Spring of 2010, followed by Medical Error that fall. He is also the author of one non-fiction book, and his inspirational pieces have appeared in numerous periodicals. He and his wife, Kay, live in North Texas.<\/p>\n

Visit the author’s website<\/a> and blog blog<\/a>.<\/p>\n

\n

<\/span><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/strong> <\/strong> <\/strong>SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION: <\/strong><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Removing life support can be a killer!<\/p>\n

When her comatose husband died in the ICU while on life support, the whispers about Dr. Elena Gardner began. They were stronger after another patient died in ICU. After she took up practice in a small town, the whispers turned to a shout: \u201cmercy killer.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then there were the midnight phone calls that started after her husband\u2019s death. Who was the woman who sobbed out, \u201cI know what you did?\u201d And how could Elena stop the calls that tortured her?<\/p>\n

Two physicians, widowers themselves, tell Elena they know what she is going through. But do they? And is it safe to trust either of them?<\/p>\n

What was the dark secret that kept Elena\u2019s lips sealed when she should be defending herself? Would what she did in her husband\u2019s ICU room turn out to be a prescription for trouble?<\/p>\n

<\/embed><\/object><\/p>\n

Product Details:<\/p>\n

List Price: $13.99
\nPaperback: 288 pages
\nPublisher: Abingdon Press (April 2011)
\nLanguage: English
\nISBN-10: 1426710216
\nISBN-13: 978-1426710216<\/p>\n

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:<\/span> <\/strong>
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\n

Prologue<\/p>\n

She stood by his bedside and waited for him to die.<\/p>\n

Outside the room, the machines and monitors of the ICU hummed and beeped, doctors and nurses went about their business, and the hospital smell\u2014equal parts antiseptic and despair\u2014hung heavy in the air.<\/p>\n

With one decisive move she flipped the switch of the respirator and stilled the machine\u2019s rhythmic chuffing. In the silence that followed, she imagined she could hear his heartbeat fade away.<\/p>\n

She kissed him and exhaled what passed for a prayer, her lips barely moving as she asked for peace and forgiveness\u2014for him and for her.<\/p>\n

She stood for a moment with her head bowed, contemplating the enormity of her action. Then she pocketed the empty syringe from the bedside table and tiptoed out of the room.<\/p>\n

1<\/p>\n

Dr. Elena Gardner approached her apartment as she had every night for six months\u2014filled with emptiness and dread. The feeling grew with each step, and by the time she put the key in the door, fear enveloped her like a shroud. Some nights it was all she could do to put her foot over the threshold. This was one of those nights.<\/p>\n

She turned the key and pushed open the door. The dark shadows reached out at her like a boogeyman from her childhood. The utter stillness magnified every sound in the old apartment, turning creaking boards into the footsteps of an unknown enemy.<\/p>\n

She flipped on the light and watched the shadows turn into familiar surroundings. Even though the thermostat was set at a comfortable temperature, she shivered a bit.<\/p>\n

Elena dropped her backpack by the door and collapsed into the one comfortable chair in the living room. The TV remote was in its usual place on the table beside her. She punched the set into life, paying no attention to what was on. Didn\u2019t matter. Just something to drown out the silence, something to remind her that there was life outside these four walls. That somewhere there were people who could laugh and joke and have fun. Somewhere.<\/p>\n

She sighed and picked up the phone. She should call David.<\/p>\n

He\u2019d been firm about it. \u201cCall me anytime, but especially when you get home at night. That\u2019s the toughest time. It\u2019s when the memories butt heads with the \u2018what-ifs.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

She dialed the number. Maybe she should put him on her speed dial. But that implied there wouldn\u2019t be an end to this soon. And she wasn\u2019t ready to think about that.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Elena.\u201d Although Dr. David Merritt\u2014a resident physician in one of the busiest obstetrics programs in the Southwest\u2014was surely as tired as she was, his voice sounded fresh, almost cheery. \u201cWhat\u2019s up?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, you know. Just needed to hear a friendly voice.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGlad to oblige. How was your day?\u201d<\/p>\n

That was one of the things Elena missed most. Now that Mark was gone, there was no one to share her day. \u201cNot too bad until I was about to check out. The EMT\u2019s brought in a thirty-two-year-old woman, comatose from a massive intracranial hemorrhage. The neurosurgeons rushed her to surgery, but\u2013\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n

She knew David could guess the rest. He cleared his throat. \u201cDid that\u2026was it tough to take?\u201d<\/p>\n

Elena started to make some remark about it not bothering her. But that wasn\u2019t true. And she knew David wanted the truth. \u201cYeah. Not while it was happening. Then I was pretty much on automatic pilot. But afterward, I almost had a meltdown.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019ll get better.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI hope so.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAny more phone calls?\u201d<\/p>\n

Elena felt goose bumps pop up on her arms. \u201cNot yet. But it\u2019s Tuesday, so I expect one later tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy don\u2019t you call the police?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat, and tell them that for four weeks I\u2019ve answered the phone every Tuesday at midnight and heard a woman sobbing, then a hang-up? That\u2019s not a police matter.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know what they\u2019ll ask. Caller ID? \u2018Anonymous.\u2019 Star 69? \u2018Subscriber has blocked this service.\u2019 Then they\u2019ll tell me to change my number. Well, this one\u2019s unlisted, but that doesn\u2019t seem to matter. How much trouble would it be for whoever\u2019s calling to get the new one?\u201d<\/p>\n

David\u2019s exhalation was like a gentle wind. \u201cWell, let me know if there\u2019s anything I can do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve done plenty already. You know, after Mark died, I had a lot of people fuss over me for about three days, but you\u2019re the only one who\u2019s stayed with it. Why?\u201d<\/p>\n

His silence made her think she\u2019d asked an embarrassing question. People didn\u2019t go out of their way to be nice the way David had with no thought of something in return. Did they?<\/p>\n

\u201cElena, I\u2019ve been where you are,\u201d David said. \u201cOh, I know. A spouse divorcing you isn\u2019t the same as one dying, but a lot of the feelings are the same. I mean, when I saw my wife and little girl pull away from the house for the last time, I wanted to lie down and die.\u201d<\/p>\n

She knew exactly what he was talking about. \u201cThat\u2019s me. I wanted to crawl into the coffin with Mark. At that point, my life was over.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I got past it,\u201d David said. \u201cOh, I didn\u2019t \u2018heal.\u2019 You don\u2019t get back to where you were, but you learn to move on. And when Carol sent me the invitation to her wedding, it broke my heart, but it helped me realize that part of my life was over. Anyway, I made up my mind to use what I\u2019d learned to help other people. And that\u2019s what I\u2019m doing.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elena sniffled. \u201cSorry.\u201d She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. \u201cThat\u2019s another thing. I feel like tears are always right there, ready to come anytime.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s normal. Let them out.\u201d<\/p>\n

They talked for a few minutes more before Elena ended the conversation. She wandered into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and looked in without seeing the contents. She wasn\u2019t hungry. Since Mark\u2019s death she\u2019d lost twelve pounds off a frame that had little to spare. Maybe she should patent the process. \u201cSure-fire weight loss guaranteed. Withdraw life support and let your husband die. If you don\u2019t lose weight, double your money back.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her lips drew back in what started as a hesitant smile but turned into a grimace of pain. She dissolved into tears.<\/p>\n

Elena wasn\u2019t sure how long she sat at the kitchen table with her head cradled in her arms before the ring of the phone roused her. She looked at her watch. A little after nine\u2014too early for her midnight caller. Had the routine changed?<\/p>\n

She shuffled back to the living room. When she checked the caller ID, she felt some of her tension subside. Dr. Helen Bennett represented the only ray of sunshine in Elena\u2019s dark landscape right now.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cElena, did I wake you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, not really. Just starting to unwind. What\u2019s up?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe need to talk.\u201d<\/p>\n

That didn\u2019t sound promising. \u201cWow, that sounds like what I used to tell boys in college before breaking up with them. What\u2019s going on?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d rather do this face to face. Why don\u2019t we have breakfast tomorrow morning? I usually make rounds at six-thirty. Can you meet me in the St. Paul Hospital staff cafeteria at six? We can talk then.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elena hung up with a growing sense of unease. Mark\u2019s death had plunged her into a dark abyss. The only glimmer of hope for a future had been Dr. Helen Bennett\u2019s offer to join her practice. The opportunity to work alongside a woman who was one of the most respected family practitioners in the community, a doctor Elena had admired since her days in medical school, seemed like a gift from above. Was that about to be taken from her?<\/p>\n

The evening dragged on as Elena worried about the problem like a kitten with a ball of yarn. Finally, she ate some peanut butter and crackers, forced down a glass of milk. She\u2019d shower in the morning. Right now, she just wanted to crawl into bed.<\/p>\n

Sleep was elusive as a glob of mercury. She picked up the book from her bedside table and tried to read, but the words blurred on the page. Finally, she closed the book, turned out the light, and tried to sleep. Instead, she watched the red numerals on her bedside clock change: 10:00, 10:40, 11:15.<\/p>\n

She was tossing in a restless slumber when she heard the ring of the phone. The clock showed 12:05 as Elena reached for the receiver. Her left hand clutched the covers tighter around her as her right lifted the phone and brought it to her ear.<\/p>\n

At first there was silence. Maybe this was simply a wrong number. Maybe the calls had stopped.<\/p>\n

No, there it was. Sobbing. Starting softly, then rising to a crescendo. A woman\u2019s voice\u2014a husky alto, like a lounge singer in a smoky, second-rate club.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho is this?\u201d Elena said.<\/p>\n

No answer. Only sobbing.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you want?\u201d Elena\u2019s voice rose to a shriek.<\/p>\n

A click. Then silence.<\/p>\n

Elena stabbed blindly at the phone\u2019s \u201cend\u201d button, finally hitting it as an electronic voice began, \u201cIf you\u2019d like to make a call\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

She turned on the bedside lamp and stared at the cheap lithograph on the opposite wall. In it, a young man and woman were walking through a field of flowers. They looked so happy. Like she and Mark had been.<\/p>\n

But he was gone, and she\u2019d never be happy again. Ever.<\/p>\n

She reached for the light, but withdrew her hand. No, leave it burning. Elena burrowed deeply under the covers, the way she used to do as a child after hearing a ghost story. She closed her eyes and watched the images march across her brain: endless days spent at the bedside of a living corpse, Mark\u2019s casket disappearing into the ground, a faceless woman at some shadowy location sobbing into a phone.<\/p>\n

As the sound of those sobs echoed through Elena\u2019s mind, that image of a face from her past came into focus. Was that who was calling? If so, there was nothing Elena could do. She\u2019d simply suffer . . . because she deserved it.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

Elena slapped at the snooze button on her alarm clock. Why was it buzzing already? Then she remembered\u2014her breakfast with Dr. Bennett. What had Helen meant by, \u201cWe need to talk?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her stomach did a flip-flop, and she tasted a bitter mix of peanut butter and bile. Maybe some coffee would help.<\/p>\n

Elena padded to the kitchen and reached into the cabinet, wishing she\u2019d had the foresight to make coffee before going to bed last night. The weight of the canister told her before she removed the lid\u2014empty. She filled a glass at the sink and drank the contents, hoping to at least wash the bad taste from her mouth.<\/p>\n

A quick shower brought her a bit more awake. Now for hair and makeup. Elena had always taken pride in her resemblance to her mother, a beautiful woman with dark, Latina looks. But long days at the hospital followed by sleepless nights took their toll.<\/p>\n

There were dark circles under her eyes, the brown irises surrounded by a network of red. A few drops of Visine, and she looked less like the survivor of an all-night drinking spree. She\u2019d cover the circles with a little make-up and hope Dr. Bennett didn\u2019t notice.<\/p>\n

Elena ran her hands through her long, black hair. She needed a haircut, needed it in the worst way. But there was neither time nor money for that right now. She\u2019d pull it into the always-utilitarian ponytail she\u2019d favored more and more lately.<\/p>\n

Dressed, her backpack slung over one shoulder, her purse over the other, she stepped through the door into the early morning darkness, in no way ready to face the day. It was bad already. She hoped it wouldn\u2019t get worse.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

The ride in the elevator was three floors up, but Elena\u2019s stomach felt as though she was in a free fall. She didn\u2019t have to do this today. When Helen Bennett called, she should have put this visit on \u201chold.\u201d But something told her she needed to get it out of the way.<\/p>\n

The elevator doors slid open, and the scene before her made memories scroll across her mind like a filmstrip unwinding. The waiting area of the ICU at Zale University Hospital was quiet at 5:30 a.m. The television set high on the far wall flickered with silent images as closed captions of the local news crawled across the bottom of the screen. An older man huddled in a chair near the \u201cStaff Only\u201d door, glancing every few seconds toward that portal as though Gabriel himself were about to come through it with news of his loved one.<\/p>\n

Elena knew the feeling. For two weeks, she\u2019d spent much of every day in this same waiting room. The rest of the time, the minutes not spent snatching a quick bite in the cafeteria or hurrying home for a shower and change of clothes, were spent at her husband\u2019s bedside, holding his hand and listening to the even rhythm of the respirator that kept him alive. Her heart bled for the old man and for every other person who\u2019d ever sat in this room.<\/p>\n

Elena was pleased when her final training assignment took her away from Zale, the place where her life fell apart. St. Paul Hospital was less than half a mile away, but she welcomed every foot of that buffer. When she walked out of Zale for the last time, she silently vowed never to return.<\/p>\n

Now she was back, and she still wasn\u2019t sure of her reason. Was it to add the books from the box balanced on her hip to the dog-eared paperbacks next to the volunteer\u2019s desk? Or was it to show she had the courage to revisit the scene of the most terrible two weeks of her life? No matter, she was here. She clenched her jaw and forced her feet to move.<\/p>\n

\u201cDr. Gardner. What are you doing here?\u201d<\/p>\n

Elena looked up at the nurse emerging from the elevator. The woman\u2019s name tickled at the periphery of Elena\u2019s memory like a loose hair. What was it?<\/p>\n

\u201cOh. You startled me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry. What brings you back here?\u201d<\/p>\n

Elena held up a handful of books and shoved them into the bookcase. \u201cThese are some of Mark\u2019s\u2013\u2013\u201d Her throat closed up and words left her. With an effort, she began again. \u201cI was going through some of Mark\u2019s things and thought these might help the people in the waiting room pass the time.\u201d<\/p>\n

The nurse moved closer and Elena sneaked a look at her nametag. Karri Lawson. Of course. How could she forget Karri? The pretty brunette had been the nurse responsible for Mark\u2019s care almost the entire time he was in the ICU. In fact Karri had been Mark\u2019s nurse the day\u2013\u2013. Elena shook her head. Don\u2019t go there. Don\u2019t go back.<\/p>\n

If Karri noticed Elena\u2019s discomfort, she made no mention of it. Instead, she gave Elena a brief hug. \u201cI haven\u2019t seen you since\u2026since that day. I\u2019m sorry for your loss.\u201d She made a gesture toward the closed doors leading to the ICU. \u201cWe all are.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elena had heard \u201csorry for your loss\u201d so many times, it was almost meaningless. Her response was automatic. \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWould you like to come in and see the other staff?\u201d Karri looked at her watch. \u201cThe day shift isn\u2019t here yet, but there may be some nurses you remember from when\u2026from your time here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think so.\u201d Elena reached out and touched Karri on the shoulder. \u201cI have a meeting. But tell everyone hello for me. Tell them I said, \u2018thanks.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

\u201cThe coffee here is surprisingly good,\u201d Elena said. \u201cEveryone always says that hospital food, especially hospital coffee, is terrible.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI agree,\u201d Helen Bennett said. \u201cI wish my receptionist could make coffee like this. She\u2019s a jewel, but in fifteen years with me she\u2019s never learned to make coffee that doesn\u2019t taste like it\u2019s brewed from homogenized tire treads.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t be too hard on her, Helen. I\u2019m looking forward to working with her. And with you, of course.\u201d<\/p>\n

Helen placed her mug on the table as carefully as an astronaut docking the space shuttle. \u201cWell, that\u2019s what we need to talk about.\u201d She looked around to make sure there was no one within earshot. Around them, the cafeteria was filled with bleary-eyed residents, medical students, and nurses, but no one seemed interested in the conversation at their table. \u201cI\u2019m afraid you\u2019re not going to be working with my receptionist, or my nurse, or me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Helen stemmed Elena\u2019s words with an upraised hand. \u201cLet me give you the whole story. Then I can answer questions if you have any\u2014assuming you\u2019re still speaking to me by then.\u201d<\/p>\n

The hollow feeling in Elena\u2019s stomach intensified.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve been in private practice for fifteen years, going it alone. There aren\u2019t many of us left in solo situations, but I\u2019ve held out. I\u2019ve managed to get other doctors in various groups to share call with me, but lately that\u2019s been somewhere between difficult and impossible.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know. That\u2019s why you wanted to bring me into the practice,\u201d Elena said.<\/p>\n

\u201cTrue, but that\u2019s changed. The Lincoln Clinic has approached me to join their family practice section. Actually, they want me to head it. They\u2019ve made me a great offer. Not just the money, although that\u2019s good. The whole package seems tailor-made for me. I\u2019ll be supervising six other doctors, and I\u2019ll be exempt from night call. A great retirement plan and benefits.\u201d Helen looked down at the tabletop. \u201cI couldn\u2019t turn it down.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elena\u2019s mind scrambled for a solution. The ship was sinking, and she grabbed for something to keep her afloat. \u201cSo, why don\u2019t I take over your practice? I can buy you out. I mean, I won\u2019t have the money right way, but I can pay you over several years. It\u2019ll be sort of like an annuity for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Helen was already shaking her head. \u201cNo, one part of the deal was that I bring my patients with me. The clinic will hire both my receptionist and nurse, and give them a good package as well. They\u2019ll even buy my equipment from me. I\u2019ve already terminated the office lease. I\u2019m moving out in ninety days.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elena forced back the tears she felt forming. \u201cHelen, do you realize what this does to me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know. I just\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d Elena worked to keep her voice level. \u201cYou don\u2019t know. You don\u2019t know how I\u2019ve struggled to get through my residency after Mark\u2019s death. You have no idea what it meant to me to have a practice waiting for me. No need to lease space, to remodel and buy equipment. No waiting to build up a practice. There\u2019d be a guaranteed income and a chance to pay off a mountain of debt.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cElena\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Elena shook her head. \u201cI finish my residency in less than a month. Thirty days! Now you\u2019ve pulled the rug out from under me. I have four weeks to find a way to do the only thing I know how to do\u2014practice medicine.\u201d She turned her back to Helen, thinking that Helen had done the same thing to her. \u201cNo, I realize this is good for you, but I don\u2019t think you really know the effect it has on me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cElena, I had to do this. Once you get over the shock, you\u2019ll think about it and agree. But listen, I\u2019m not going to leave you hanging.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elena turned back to face the woman who\u2019d been her mentor, the friend who was now betraying her. \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe clinic gave me a very short deadline to accept or reject their offer. I only made my final decision this weekend. But the second call I made, after the one to the clinic administrator, was to your chair, Dr. Amy Gross. She and I are both putting out feelers for a place you can practice.\u201d Helen reached across the table and patted Elena\u2019s shoulder. \u201cWe know how hard this past three months have been on you. We worry about you. And believe me, we won\u2019t abandon you now. God has something out there for you. Trust Him.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elena drained the last of the coffee from her cup. When she set it down, she knocked her fork off the table. The dull clank of silverware on vinyl floor was barely audible over the low hum of voices that filled the cafeteria. \u201cTrust God? I don\u2019t think so. I trusted Him when Mark lay there fighting for his life, but it didn\u2019t seem to do any good.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know. But He\u2019s still in control.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elena shook her head, while one more hobgoblin joined those already dancing in her brain.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n

MY REVIEW:<\/strong><\/p>\n

Although Diagnosis Death<\/a> is the third book of a series, it can easily stand alone. A medical mystery, the novel is a definite page turner that will keep the reader in suspense until the end. Although written by a retired doctor, there is just enough medical information given to keep the plot realistic and interesting. Characters are well rounded and believable. The plot moves at a consistent pace with few rabbit trails that distract. Controversial subjects such as euthanasia are examined but readers are left to reach their own conclusions. A strong message of faith is woven unobtrusively into the story.<\/p>\n

Plagued with frequent nightmares and harassing midnight telephone calls after her husband’s death, Dr. Elena Gardner soon finds herself in the middle of more controversy and suspicion after the similar death of another patient. She takes a job with another doctor in Dainger, Texas hoping to leave her problems behind. Unfortunately, her problems continue to escalate.<\/p>\n

How does a doctor defend herself and her reputation when she is uncertain of the truth herself?\u00a0Diagnosis Death<\/a> has the answer to that question and more. I heartily recommend Diagnosis Death<\/a>and Dr. Mabry’s other novels for those who love medical thrillers.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[8,60,59,41,33],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7429","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books","category-contemporary-fiction","category-medical","category-romance","category-suspense"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7429","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=7429"}],"version-history":[{"count":14,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7429\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7507,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7429\/revisions\/7507"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=7429"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=7429"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=7429"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}