Conference...and other notes of interest
First off, the phone conference with the new attorney went well. I should have the paperwork from him within a couple of weeks to look over and sign. Things are looking up...
There's a funny little glitch which was brought to my attention. When the main attorney signed on--for sake of ease, since this attorney's in Tampa, for this blog, I'll name him/her Pat Tampa--Pat informed me that a cursory look at the few records I had showed a DNR on file.
(For anyone unfamiliar with the terminology, a DNR is a "Do Not Resuscitate." This is a document signed by the patient or his/her spouse, guardian, or next of kin that says if the patient stops breathing, etc, nothing will be done to bring the patient back: no CPR, no mouth-to-mouth, nothing.)
I stated that: (1) I didn't recall signing a DNR for P__, (2) if one was signed, it was most likely slipped in amongst the paperwork signed when he was readmitted (after he'd been lying on the pavement for 30-45 minutes and I was stressed on beyond Pluto), (3) no one mentioned signing a DNR, (4) if one had been signed, would I really have been confronted by a group of three people between 1:00-1:30 a.m. the morning of October 24th who wanted to know, "If he Codes, do you want us to work on him by doing CPR, etc. to try to bring him back?" (to which I answered, "Definitely. Work on him."), and (5) would Dr. ____ (see blog post from May 4) have had to keep asking my permission to pull the plug?
And yet the cursory records stated there was a DNR in place.
I'm sure that there might be people who wonder if I'm telling the truth to everything written in this blog.
My answer is this: At 53, this is the first lawsuit I've filed (other than filing for divorce from my first husband years ago, well before I knew P__). There have been times I could have filed, but didn't.
On top of that, while grieving over the loss of the love of my life, it would simply be easier to let it go and go on. I'm sure that I could heal a lot faster if I didn't have to think about this lawsuit. And, on top of that, I do know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that most medical people are good, decent, hard-working people who care for others at great personal costs to themselves. Anyone who doubts this should talk to someone whose marriage and personal life are taking a hit while they go through the rigors of medical school (or nursing school, paramedic/EMT training, any kind of technician training, etc.) Ask them as they put birthdays and holidays on hold while going through residency and internship. Look at the ambulances and fire departments still on call as you and I celebrate our major holidays. One word, folks: Dedication.
For most of these people, Dedication is part of the job. Pride in a job well done is another. I know that these words frequently sound almost goofy these days. But it's really there. Why? Because when you hang up your hat at the end of the shift and can say, "I made a difference today; that man/woman/child would be dead right now if I hadn't been there, doing my job. Now they have a chance."
And if the patient dies? I've seen grown men and women in the medical field in tears when they've worked hard against all odds and a patient dies. I've seen this (and experienced) both as an outsider, as well as when I worked as an EMT.
But when incident after incident of negligence and malpractice kill someone, I tend to get angry. Make that someone I care for...well, you get the picture.
On top of that, look at the people who've commented here; consider those who've contacted me through the reporter from the St. Petersburg Times. For the most part, they are people I've never heard of before starting this blog. They've all told and/or written the same thing: they have horror stories about N.side, too. I've also talked with people I know personally who've had problems with N.side before P__'s death. I'm not a rich, famous person who could get this many people to come forward with horror stories just to try to get close to me. These are real people, real lives, real horror stories about a hospital that is understaffed, about personnel who do things that maim and cause death.
That, my friends, is why I'm fighting mad. Will I give up?
If you've guessed that the answer is "No," you've guessed right.
There's a funny little glitch which was brought to my attention. When the main attorney signed on--for sake of ease, since this attorney's in Tampa, for this blog, I'll name him/her Pat Tampa--Pat informed me that a cursory look at the few records I had showed a DNR on file.
(For anyone unfamiliar with the terminology, a DNR is a "Do Not Resuscitate." This is a document signed by the patient or his/her spouse, guardian, or next of kin that says if the patient stops breathing, etc, nothing will be done to bring the patient back: no CPR, no mouth-to-mouth, nothing.)
I stated that: (1) I didn't recall signing a DNR for P__, (2) if one was signed, it was most likely slipped in amongst the paperwork signed when he was readmitted (after he'd been lying on the pavement for 30-45 minutes and I was stressed on beyond Pluto), (3) no one mentioned signing a DNR, (4) if one had been signed, would I really have been confronted by a group of three people between 1:00-1:30 a.m. the morning of October 24th who wanted to know, "If he Codes, do you want us to work on him by doing CPR, etc. to try to bring him back?" (to which I answered, "Definitely. Work on him."), and (5) would Dr. ____ (see blog post from May 4) have had to keep asking my permission to pull the plug?
And yet the cursory records stated there was a DNR in place.
I'm sure that there might be people who wonder if I'm telling the truth to everything written in this blog.
My answer is this: At 53, this is the first lawsuit I've filed (other than filing for divorce from my first husband years ago, well before I knew P__). There have been times I could have filed, but didn't.
On top of that, while grieving over the loss of the love of my life, it would simply be easier to let it go and go on. I'm sure that I could heal a lot faster if I didn't have to think about this lawsuit. And, on top of that, I do know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that most medical people are good, decent, hard-working people who care for others at great personal costs to themselves. Anyone who doubts this should talk to someone whose marriage and personal life are taking a hit while they go through the rigors of medical school (or nursing school, paramedic/EMT training, any kind of technician training, etc.) Ask them as they put birthdays and holidays on hold while going through residency and internship. Look at the ambulances and fire departments still on call as you and I celebrate our major holidays. One word, folks: Dedication.
For most of these people, Dedication is part of the job. Pride in a job well done is another. I know that these words frequently sound almost goofy these days. But it's really there. Why? Because when you hang up your hat at the end of the shift and can say, "I made a difference today; that man/woman/child would be dead right now if I hadn't been there, doing my job. Now they have a chance."
And if the patient dies? I've seen grown men and women in the medical field in tears when they've worked hard against all odds and a patient dies. I've seen this (and experienced) both as an outsider, as well as when I worked as an EMT.
But when incident after incident of negligence and malpractice kill someone, I tend to get angry. Make that someone I care for...well, you get the picture.
On top of that, look at the people who've commented here; consider those who've contacted me through the reporter from the St. Petersburg Times. For the most part, they are people I've never heard of before starting this blog. They've all told and/or written the same thing: they have horror stories about N.side, too. I've also talked with people I know personally who've had problems with N.side before P__'s death. I'm not a rich, famous person who could get this many people to come forward with horror stories just to try to get close to me. These are real people, real lives, real horror stories about a hospital that is understaffed, about personnel who do things that maim and cause death.
That, my friends, is why I'm fighting mad. Will I give up?
If you've guessed that the answer is "No," you've guessed right.
Labels: HCA Northside, HCA Northside Hospital, Northside Hospital - Florida, Northside Hospital - St. Petersburg, Northside Hospital (Tampa Bay), St. Petersburg hospitals
posted by feminist writer - Robin Shwedo | 3:29 PM
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