Health Care / Medicine

Lowering Our Lawyer Shield

A harrowing experience while overseas puts in-house columnist Stephen Williams in the client's shoes.

lawyer briefcase shield fear scared frightenedI just returned from a vacation to Southeast Asia, as in I typed this on the red-eye return flight and hit send once I had service, so please forgive me if this reads like it was authored by some guy who hasn’t slept in forty-eight hours. It was a great trip up until the final couple of days, when my wife unexpectedly became violently ill.

While we were both hopeful it would pass in time for our scheduled departure, it soon became clear I would need to delay our return trip. Worse than delaying our return, after monitoring my wife’s lack of progress, I knew I would need to call for a doctor.

In America, we often take for granted our ready access to quality and safe medical care. As lawyers, we know our doctors are governed by various regulating agencies who ensure the standards and training of all in the health care field. And some of our own colleagues monitor the work of health care professionals to ensure they meet their standard of care, and if not, seek judicial relief and action to prevent the behavior in the future.

Aside from the official safeguards we have in place in our health care system, as lawyers, we also have a few other unofficial resources available to us as well. Given the nature of our profession, lawyers tend to be a bit more connected to our government and business leaders in our communities. Whether we like to admit it or not, often in the back of our heads in any adverse situation we are a party to, we generally plot how many calls we would need to make to get some juice in our corner.

Think about it: whether it’s a former classmate working for an elected official, or a former colleague who now works at a firm with a partner who sits on a respective company’s board of directors, we are generally only a few calls away from having a powerful voice on our side.

But as I sat watching my wife wither in pain while waiting for the doctor to arrive, I knew I was without my normal phone tree to power if something went wrong. I had no clue what the physician licensing standards were in the country I was in, whether the physician was up to date on any continuing education requirements, or if the drugs he would bring along were even approved for use by the FDA.

When the doctor finally arrived, my lawyer shield was gone; all I had was trust and hope he could do something to help my ailing wife. I would have signed or paid anything in that moment if I thought it might somehow make my wife better, which was an utterly helpless, but illuminating moment. Our clients are often faced with the same sense of hopelessness on a daily basis.

From the abused wife hoping the prosecutor can finally end her suffering to the wrongfully evicted tenant counting on his counsel to get him back into his home, our profession has the chance to provide a voice to the voiceless on a daily basis.

As for me, I’m happy to report my wife is doing much better. To which she mainly attributes to whatever “miracle shot” the doctor gave her. And to answer your question, no, I haven’t the faintest idea if it’s approved by the FDA, but if it allowed her to get some sleep for the first time in four days, who am I to question it?

And while I am thrilled to be back in the U.S., which will mitigate the chance of my feeling utterly hopeless again in the future, the experience, in addition to scaring the bejesus out of me, certainly caused me to rethink my own pro bono plans for the coming year.


Stephen R. Williams is in-house counsel with a multi-facility hospital network in the Midwest. His column focuses on a little talked about area of the in-house life, management. You can reach Stephen at [email protected].