To sue, or not to sue

"Time would tell that they had to know what the problem was; but they weren’t sayin’. So till the truth be told, they’d make me out to be crazy -- just in case I did sue."

Dr. V, a cardiologist practicing in partnership with Dr. M. in Cumberland (and my cardiologist for many years; in fact, Dr. V is the one who connected me and my family with Dr. Charles Hufnagel, my surgeon at Georgetown University Hospital), instructed me to call the Emergency Room the next time I lost consciousness getting out of bed in the morning.

So I did. What they were supposed to do for me, I don’t know. The plan didn’t work, anyway. I passed out, so I called the E.R.; then I passed out again. When I regained consciousness, my head was on the bed; the phone headset was in my hand, at my ear; and the line was dead. The only thing someone on the other end might have heard was me breathing.

When I finally managed to get out of bed that morning, I got myself together and drove to the E.R. It was a Friday. Someone admitted me to the hospital. And of course, Dr. M was my attending physician.

I lay there three days. During that time, someone mentioned that we could try turning up the output on the pacer to alleviate the problem. I needed to get back to work on Monday. So by Sunday afternoon, I was ready to demand action.

I asked to see Dr. M. He wouldn’t respond. So I used the telephone in my room to call the hospital switchboard to have him paged. When he came on the line, I told him to get up to my room immediately and set up the output on the pacer, or I would call my lawyer. He wasted no time.

I still chuckle as I recall him stomping into my room and flopping himself down, with a thud, onto the seat of my bedside potty chair. What a fool.

He did set up the output. And then, at my insistence, he released me from the hospital. 

I had no further problems passing out, though I continued to be very tired, lethargic, symptomatic of the pacer’s malfunctioning, and saddened that this situation was disrupting my life so drastically; and no one would help me.

Silly me: I continued to go to the pacer clinic at Sacred Heart Hospital, every six months, as they required -- until the Medtronic representative set my output back.

This guy would interrogate the pacer, and then he was supposed to tell me what he found. So he tinkered around this day; I asked him what he found. He told me the output was set too high, so he set it back.

I said, “You did what?” He told me he set the output back. I said, “You don’t know what I went through to get the output set up.” I continued, “When I walk out of here, and get behind the wheel of my car, and drive down Braddock Road (which is a steep descent), if I pass out and wreck, then you can sit up here and say, ‘Oh, whoops!’ but I’m the one who would have to spend the rest of my life in a nursing home. You are going to set that output back up, now.”

He did. That was my last visit to the pacer clinic.

I did try to talk with that rep later, though, because I wanted to ask him some questions about what he found when he interrogated my pacer. My family doctor at the time, adversarial as he turned out to be, kindly arranged a meeting between the rep and me, at his office. When I got there, however, I received the message from Medtronic that the only way the company could communicate with me would be through their legal department. “Oh, great,” I thought. “They want me to sue them.”

I really didn’t want to sue anyone. I just wanted someone to face and fix the problem with my malfunctioning pacemaker.

I tried meeting with the hospital staff. Dr. M was there, along with the director of the pacer clinic, a representative from administration, and more. I don’t remember who all was there, but the room was full.

I wanted to know more about why the clinic existed, its mission and goals, how it intended to help people. The whole concept had been counterproductive for me. For years, I had gone to the clinic every six months. More than once, I had to walk out and go back to work, because they wouldn’t honor their scheduled appointments; and I couldn’t stay any longer.

And then, the Medtronic rep endangered my life and well-being by taking the liberty to set my pacer output down. Luckily, I asked him that day what he did; and fortunately, he told me. And best for all of us, he complied when I told him to set the output back up.

Those types of inefficiencies are problematic; and those types of blunders are dangerous, I tried to impress upon the group. I wanted to know why I should continue to come to the pacer clinic; and why I should come every six months.

The clinic director said they scheduled appointments every six months “because that’s what Medicare allows.” That answer still strikes me as ridiculous. “But I’m not on Medicare,” I replied.

At some point in the meeting, she cried, and apologized for the situation. I really liked her; and I felt bad that the whole relationship had come to this impasse. She and her staff were hapless victims, as much as I, in this mess brought on by the ineptitude, covering up, and commiseration of the surgeon, the cardiologist and the pacer rep.

Time would tell that they had to know what the problem was; but they weren’t sayin’. So till the truth be told, they’d make me out to be crazy -- just in case I did sue.

Of course, in our meeting, Dr. M made a fool of himself. I don’t remember details of his asininities, but I remember the administration rep (Candy G.) making a point to tell me after the meeting that she believed the root of the conflict between him and me was “a cultural problem.” (He is a native of India; how his culture might have affected his outlook toward me I still don't know.) She implied that his view of me as a white woman colored his ability to interact with me effectively.

I said to her, “Then why don’t you fire him? If he has problems dealing with his patients, then why don’t you fire him?” He still practices in Cumberland, and at the new Western Maryland regional hospital. Hypothetically, many more people / women could lave been subject to his denials, ineptitude and abuse. If so, then they must have sought, as I did, solutions to the problems he perpetuated that were more practical than suing him.