Five Days at Memorial: Life and Death in a Storm-Ravaged Hospital by Sheri Fink Read Free Book Online Page B

seniors, “to ease the financial burden for these elderly patients,” its administrator explained in a hospital newsletter. In 1969, the federal government declared Southern Baptist Hospital in compliance with the Civil Rights Act of 1964. The decision to accept Medicare was good for business. The number of patients over sixty-five years old at Southern Baptist nearly tripled over the first two weeks.
    Tensions persisted. A decade later, between the years 1979 and 1980, at least six employees filed charges of race discrimination against the hospital with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, the agency responsible for enforcing key parts of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 (in at least two of the cases, the agency found no cause to believe the allegations were true). One of the six employees, African American engineer Issac E. Frezel,sued Southern Baptist Hospitals, Inc., in federal district court. He alleged that it had violated his rights under the Civil Rights Acts of 1964 and 1866 by engaging in illegal racial discrimination when it placed him on probation for “unauthorized shift changes,” passed himover for promotion, and, ultimately, fired him. In his suit, he contended that a white coworker involved in the same offense was not disciplined. The hospital’s lawyers argued that nothing illegal had occurred. The suit settled out of court for an unreported sum.
    When Jannie Burgess had received poor treatment from patients as a nurse at various New Orleans hospitals, she did what she felt she had to do: gritted her teeth and smiled and kept going. She had a long career, and after retirement moved into senior housing at Flint-Goodridge Apartments, the pre–Civil Rights era site ofFlint-Goodridge Hospital, once the only private hospital in New Orleans where “Negro” patients could receive care and their doctors could pursue residency training. Burgess cared for an ailing brother at home and grew softer and rounder with age.
    Surgery and chemotherapy had stalled her uterine cancer. She recovered and lived well for two years. In early August 2005, her legs wouldn’t carry her properly. She was admitted to Memorial to investigate the cause of her severe weakness. She had a bowel blockage. A surgeon opened her abdomen and found cancer in her liver. The tumor couldn’t be removed. “I don’t want to live on machines,” she said, and so her doctor gave her a Do Not Resuscitate order. She developed an infection, possibly as a result of the surgery, and her kidneys began to fail, possibly as a complication of the antibiotics used to treat the infection. To stay alive if her kidneys stopped working she’d need dialysis to clean her blood. Under no circumstances, she said, did she want that. The doctor discussed these preferences with Burgess, her sister, and a doting niece, then shifted the goal of her care from treating her medical problems to ensuring her comfort. She was scheduled to move out of intensive care and onto a regular medical floor as soon as a bed became available. Small doses of morphine had been ordered as needed to control any pain.
    Burgess’s daughter, Linette, had lived overseas for more than two decades with her Italian husband. Mother and daughter talked frequently, but visits were rare and often did not go well. While Jannie Burgess hadhelped integrate New Orleans hospitals, Linette had done the same for the New Orleans Playboy Club, becoming itsfirst black Bunny in 1973. This distinction had brought shame to the observant Catholic mother she referred to as a Holy Roller. Years of tension over various issues followed. Today’s visit was something of a reconciliation.
    With the mayor demanding that New Orleanians evacuate the city, the relatives who had driven Linette Burgess Guidi to the hospital were anxious to begin their exodus west. It was time to leave. She told her mother she loved her and thanked her for all she had done to raise her and make her the woman she was. “Release, let it