Chapter 21 - MY TESTIMONY
The defense started with my anxiety.
Not medication.
Smart.
Isabelle’s death.
My work.
Hospital fear.
How often I called doctors.
How often I asked Bernice to help.
How much authority I gave.
All true.
“You trusted your mother with medical decisions.”
“Yes.”
“You told her to use judgment.”
“Yes.”
“You told her not to call you for every cough.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever say, ‘If she seems okay, don’t obsess over the app’?”
“Yes.”
“So Bernice had discretion.”
“Within the doctor’s plan.”
“That qualification is not in your text.”
“No.”
Then my childhood.
“You also used inhalers as child.”
“Yes.”
“Your mother had experience.”
“Experience is not prescribing authority.”
The judge reminded me to answer.
Fine.
Then:
“You slapped her.”
“Yes.”
“Because you lose control when frightened?”
“I lost control that day.”
“Have you lost control before?”
“No similar adult incidents.”
Then prosecution.
“Did you tell Bernice to reduce Elodie’s controller medication?”
“No.”
“Tell her to falsify logs?”
“No.”
“Tell her to delay rescue inhaler after Elodie asked?”
“No.”
“Would you have agreed?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I am not her pulmonologist.”
Then:
“Did you sometimes overreact to Elodie’s symptoms?”
“Yes.”
“Does your anxiety authorize another caregiver to conceal medical information from you?”
“No.”
Done.
I stepped down.
Bernice watched me.
May you like
I did not know what she felt.
For once, I did not need to.
