Chapter 22 - The Hospital Audit
Years later, I led an internal review of Pacific Crest’s old vendor controls.
Not WRS specifically.
That case was closed.
We wanted systemic lessons.
Findings:
Vendor ownership checks relied too heavily on self-disclosure.
Family relationships were not independently screened.
Consultant payments lacked transparency.
Legacy administrator overrides were poorly documented.
Archived child-safety notes had been too easy for senior administrators to suppress.
We changed processes.
No single administrator could cancel a social-work referral after clinician concern without documented second review.
Conflict disclosure systems cross-checked employees and vendor principals.
Trust but verify.
My favorite phrase.
Then a board member asked:
“Are these reforms because of your case?”
“Some.”
“Do you worry you’re overcorrecting?”
“Yes.”
Good question.
We tested burden.
Adjusted.
Not every fix should become another problem.
Then Rachel joined one training session.
She said:
“The lesson is not that old medical records always hide abuse. The lesson is that when current facts and old facts overlap, look carefully.”
Exactly.
Then a resident asked me:
“How do you stay objective when it’s family?”
“I didn’t audit my family.”
“What?”
“I stepped aside.”
That mattered professionally.
Objectivity sometimes means leaving room.
Then Leonard Vale Sr. died years after his sentence.
Natural causes.
I felt nothing.
Then Denise Carter, retired social worker, sent me a letter.
She apologized again for failing to report independently.
I wrote back:
You were part of a system that failed me. You also told the truth when asked decades later. Both matter.
No absolution.
No punishment.
Then Frank’s letter.
I donated a copy to no one.
Private.
Some family history does not need archives.
Then Monica Wellness Advisory.
The fraudulent entity using my name had been dissolved.
Tax authorities corrected records.
Credit bureaus.
Everything clean.
One day I ran my credit report and saw nothing connected to Austin.
I smiled.
Boring paperwork again.
Then Amanda’s relationship with me.
Coffee every few months.
Never mother-daughter closeness from before because that version was false.
A new relationship.
She asked about my work.
Listened.
Did not advise unless asked.
Once she said:
“You’re still stubborn.”
My body tensed.
She noticed.
“I meant that as admiration.”
I said:
“Find another word.”
She did.
“Persistent.”
May you like
Better.
Change sometimes sounds like vocabulary.
