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Archive for the ‘Patient Encounters’ Category

The Book and its Cover

Tuesday, February 19th, 2013

When you work in an urban hospital, sometimes it’s difficult not to become jaded.
There are certain neighborhoods that generate a disproportionate number of patients for some emergency departments. Meth is rampant. Marriage pretty much nonexistent. More bars than there are restaurants. Domestic abuse frequent, but prosecutions rare. Police know people more by their street names than by their real names.

South Heights was one of those neighborhoods.

The emergency department frequently treats South Heights kids who are neglected by their parents. I’ve seen young South Heights kids with seizures from cocaine. Now seizing kids get drug screened as part of their workup. I’ve seen more than one young South Heights kid with a lighter burn. I’ve given a lollipop to a 2 year old South Heights kid and watched the mother take the lollipop out of the kid’s mouth when she thought no one was looking, chew on the lollipop until there was nothing left, then slap the kid for crying. Many parents from South Heights can recite the names of the family court judges from memory and quite a few have had their children taken away. Social service workers know many South Heights kids personally. Based on the history of the area, many people tend to look at the kids from South Heights with pity and look at parents from South Heights with contempt.

The next patient on the board was “finger laceration.” As I walked toward the room, the nurse mentioned “they’re from South Heights.” I was already thinking about whether I’d get attacked if I had to call Child Protective Services.

The patient was a cute little girl about 5 years old. Thin stature, great smile, polite. She was holding her arm out on the table and a gauze pad with a slowly enlarging spot of blood covered her hand. Her mom was weathered. Most of her teeth were missing. Her clothes looked like they hadn’t been washed in a while. A reusable shopping bag with newspapers, empty beer cans, and a pair of headphones sat on the chair next to her.
“So what happened to your finger?” I asked the little girl.
“I cut it with a scissor.”
The mom explained that the patient was told to wait to open a bag of cookies, but didn’t do so. Instead, she grabbed a pair of scissors from the drawer and forgot to take her finger out of the way when she cut. The result was a fairly deep laceration to the outer part of the index finger.
I went through the described mechanism in my head for a second. Scissors in one hand, holding a bag with other hand, cut to opposite index finger. OK. Injuries seem to fit the explanation.

Then I went about describing what I was going to do next.
“I’m going to put some medicine into your finger to make it stop hurting. Then we have to clean it out to get rid of all the germs. Then I’ll fix it up for you. The medicine to make it stop hurting burns a little bit. Once the burn is gone, it won’t hurt any more. OK?”
The little girl looked from me to her mother and her eyes began to tear up.
She cried and whimpered, but she held completely still while I injected lidocaine into her finger. Her mom leaned over next to her, gently cupped her head and wiped away her tears.
After the wound was clean, I got everything ready to fix the wound. But the patient was a little hesitant because the lidocaine injection had hurt. Despite me showing her how her finger was numb, she cried and didn’t want me to touch her hand.
Then mom came up with an idea.
She ruffled through her shopping bag and pulled out an old iPod. She started playing a country song on the iPod.
“Do you know what this song is?” mom asked.
“My ‘I love you’ song,” the little girl said back.
While I worked fixing the little girl’s finger, I watched as her mom caressed her daughter’s face and as they softly sang the words of the “I love you” song back and forth to each other.
I finished the last suture about 15 seconds before the song ended. The little girl didn’t move a bit until the end of the song. Then she used her uninjured arm to hug her mom around the neck and tell her one more time “I love you, mommy.”
As I wrapped up the little girl’s finger, I thought how difficult it can sometimes be not to form premature impressions about people.
And as the young patient blew me a kiss with her bandaged hand while being carried out the door by her mother, I thought how desperately South Heights needs a few more moms like this one.

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This and all posts about patients may be fictional, may be my experiences, may be submitted by readers for publication here, or may be any combination of the above. Factual statements may or may not be accurate. If you would like to have a patient story published on WhiteCoat’s Call Room, please e-mail me.

Spaghetti and Impaction

Saturday, February 9th, 2013

Spaghetti MeatballsStool impactions probably aren’t what most people would consider an “emergency” … until they actually have a stool impaction. Personally, I wouldn’t wish a stool impaction on someone. In chronic constipation, more and more stool collects in the colon until size of the ball of stool is too big to pass through the opening to the outside world. The major function of the colon is to absorb water from the stool, so the longer the stool sits in the colon, the larger the amount of water that gets absorbed, and the harder the blob of stool gets. By the way – the whole water absorbing function of the colon is why it is important to keep well hydrated to maintain good bowel habits.

There are a lot of ways that you can try to get rid of a stool impaction, but when the stool gets hard enough, pretty much the only way to remove the impaction is by having someone use their fingers to perform a “disimpaction.” There’s just no good way to get a big hunk of stool the consistency of clay soft enough for it to pass through the rectum. It has to be dug out.

Disimpactions aren’t fun for the doctor or the patient. They’re painful and obviously messy. I’m probably more willing than most docs to perform disimpactions because I can see how much the patients are suffering. Although unpleasant, disimpactions are an easy fix to the patients’ problem. Like I said, you probably can’t appreciate how bad impactions are until you’ve been on the other side of the gloved finger.

As I donned my mask, gown, and multiple layers of gloves to commence the procedure on one patient,  one of the nurses sent a nursing student in the room with me to observe. The student said that she had seen “many” disimpactions in the past, but the nurse wanted her to observe this one, so she reluctantly came in the room with me.

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What’s the Diagnosis #16 — Mmmmm, Eggs

Friday, January 25th, 2013

sausages_scrambled_eggsThis is an interesting case for a number of reasons.

First, it shows how a little testing can turn into a lot of testing to “rule out” diseases in the emergency department.
Second, it hopefully provides some good teaching points.
Third, the comment from the attending physician gave me the giggles. That will explain the title. But you have to read through the case to understand the comment.

I’m not going to discuss all the minute details of the case, only the major findings that contribute to the flow of the case.

A patient got sent in from the nursing home because her gastrostomy tube was leaking blood and the nursing home was convinced that the patient was having GI bleeding. When the bandage over the patient’s G-tube was removed, it was fairly obvious that the skin about the G-tube site was the source of the blood. The skin was raw and was oozing dark red blood. Flushing the G-tube produced a little blood, but the blood cleared. The patient’s vital signs were stable except for a mildly elevated pulse. Proper skin care probably would have resolve the bleeding. Some people may have left it at that and sent the patient back to the nursing home. I drew labs and did an abdominal series.

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Not Heart Failure

Friday, January 18th, 2013

I wasn’t giving in to the patient who wanted a prescription for Levaquin after the standard ZeePack didn’t cure his cough. He had a normal chest x-ray and labs the day before but was convinced that he had pneumonia. I tried explaining the difference between bacteria and viruses. I used the “RAID doesn’t work on dandelions” routine. He wasn’t convinced.

“I NEED a stronger antibiotic to break this up. Levaquin has worked in the past.”
“You know, I think I’m going to start you on some heart medications, instead. Some nitroglycerin and some Lasix for your heart failure.”
“Whaaat? I don’t have heart problems. I had a normal stress test a few months ago. Why would you want to start me on heart medications?”
“You have risk factors for heart problems and coughing is a sign of heart failure. I should probably start you on Digoxin, too. Ehhh … maybe not. That’s kind of strong medicine to start out with.”
“This is ridiculous. My chest x-ray and blood tests were normal yesterday. I don’t have heart failure. I’m calling my doctor and I’m not taking any of those medications.”
“Your chest x-ray was normal. That means you don’t have pneumonia, either. And bronchitis is a viral infection. Levaquin isn’t going to help your symptoms any more than the heart medications would. Do you see my point, now?”
[long pause]
“I’ll just call my doctor.”

I can only imagine what conversation sounded like.

———————–

This and all posts about patients may be fictional, may be my experiences, may be submitted by readers for publication here, or may be any combination of the above. Factual statements may or may not be accurate. If you would like to have a patient story published on WhiteCoat’s Call Room, please e-mail me.

Unnecessary Care?

Saturday, January 12th, 2013

It isn’t much of a case, but it created questions in my mind.

A mom brings her 8 year old daughter to the hospital for a nonproductive cough. No fever. No runny nose. Just a cough. The patient had started school again this week, and so the microbiome in her nasal passages had thus begun mixing with all of the other microbiomes on school lunch tables, desks, and childrens’ shirt sleeves. The end result was that now she was coughing for a couple of days – like a majority of other children in the school.

The child looked fine. I told the mother that she likely had a “head cold” and that it would have to run its course.
The mother wasn’t convinced.
“How do you know she doesn’t have the flu”?
“Well, I don’t know for sure, but even if she did have the flu, it wouldn’t change the management right now. It would still have to run its course.”
“I want her tested for the flu.”
“Influenza testing really won’t help us much. The test itself has a high false negative rate, meaning that even if the test is negative, a large percentage of people still end up having influenza.”
“I want her tested for the flu.”
Fine, I thought. It’s your money.
Forty five minutes later, results from the influenza swab came back negative.
“So like I was saying before, this is something that will have to run its course.”
“You said that the test wasn’t accurate. There are a lot of kids in her school with influenza right now. I want her to get Tamiflu.”
“Tamiflu isn’t going to help. It is only effective within the first 48 hours. You said the cough started two days ago.”
“You know, I have always had good things to say about this hospital and I’ve never had this many problems with a doctor in the emergency department before. It hasn’t been 48 hours and I want her to get the Tamiflu.”
Nice threat.
So I gave the woman a prescription. Let her spend the $120 for a drug that won’t work.

Then I began thinking. Would some bean counting clipboard carrier claim I provided unnecessary care?

So what do you think? Knowing that rapid influenza testing has a significant false negative rate and knowing that influenza is widespread in the country, but also knowing that a patient has mild symptoms …

Is it unnecessary care to provide anti-influenza treatment to someone who tests negative for influenza?

  • Yes (76%, 185 Votes)
  • No (24%, 57 Votes)

Total Voters: 242

Loading ... Loading ...

By the way, after the visit, a pharmacist called and said that the patient was requesting a different medication since the patient was on state “insurance” and the “insurance” didn’t cover the cost of the medication.
Unfortunately, there isn’t anything else that works which was covered.

UPDATE 1/15/2012Thanks for the votes and comments.
When thinking about this situation, three issues came to my mind.
First, Tamiflu is approved by the FDA for acute uncomplicated influenza when symptoms have been present for not more than two days. It is also approved for prevention of influenza. From a technical perspective, a Tamiflu prescription was indicated if the child had influenza or if the child was being prophylaxed against influenza. The indications for use do not contain a description of any symptoms that must be present before Tamiflu is prescribed. If influenza is diagnosed or being prevented, Tamiflu is indicated.
Second, diagnosis of influenza in an inexact science. Rapid influenza testing is notoriously inaccurate. If the test is positive, there is a high likelihood that influenza is present (although about 1 in 50 patients with positive results do not have influenza). However, if the test is negative, one third of children and about one half of adults will still have influenza. A negative influenza test by no means excludes a diagnosis of influenza. Between 30 and 50 percent of influenza cases are asymptomatic and it is difficult to distinguish between a common cold and influenza early in the course of the disease.
Third, Tamiflu probably doesn’t work. A Cochrane review found that Roche funded all of the studies demonstrating Tamiflu’s efficacy, that Roche hid a majority of the data from studies about the effectiveness of Tamiflu (and still won’t disclose it), and that the study data that was released had significant bias. See also this article from Forbes.
Putting all of these facts together, then we need to consider why most people in this case thought that prescribing Tamiflu was “unnecessary”.
Was it unnecessary because Tamiflu doesn’t work? Then anyone who prescribes Tamiflu is providing unnecessary care.
Was it because the patient tested negative for influenza? How do we accurately diagnose influenza in order to prescribe the medications, then?
Was it because the patient’s symptoms weren’t severe enough? What symptoms are needed before Tamiflu can be appropriately prescribed?
In the end, when dealing with this patient’s mother, I decided that the prescription of Tamiflu ends up being an issue of medical discretion. Most people probably wouldn’t have given the medication to their children for those symptoms, but if she wanted it that bad, the medication was technically medically indicated and not prescribing the medication would have resulted in even lower patient satisfaction scores. So I gave her the prescription.

The incentive to improve patient satisfaction favored prescribing Tamiflu and I had no disincentive for doing so. If the patient’s mother wants to pay for a useless medication that has many side effects in order to treat mild symptoms – after knowing these facts – why should she be prevented from doing so. This is just one example of how emphasizing patient satisfaction adversely affects medical judgment, encourages testing and treatment which is of questionable benefit, and drives up the cost of care.
“Unnecessary care” is going to be a catch phrase in the next few years as government and insurers try to decrease expenditures in medical care by refusing to pay for testing or treatment which is deemed “unnecessary.” When you hear this phrase, ask yourself who is making the determination, how the determination is being made, and who stands to benefit.

Sage Advice

Tuesday, January 8th, 2013

Old stoveSome sage advice to my loyal readers …

When you’re cleaning up an old house, you move the stove, and you happen to a find a small metal pipe with an unknown substance inside of it, it’s probably not the best idea to take a break, pull up a chair, and smoke whatever is in the pipe.

Should you ignore this advice, you might just see nonexistent bugs wearing Harry Caray glasses buzzing around your head and notice a cadre of hot women spies surrounding the house you were in before you called 911 for a police escort to the hospital.

As a side note, it is not within the purview of an emergency department to send the police to go find the pipe so that they can bring it back to our lab and we can “see the f*** what was inside.” The reason for the demise of this portion of your neuronal network will have to remain “undetermined” in this case. If you just have to know, you could prolly send the pipe to CSI with a letter requesting analysis … along with a check for a few thousand dollars.

In the meantime, enjoy the restraints.

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This and all posts about patients may be fictional, may be my experiences, may be submitted by readers for publication here, or may be any combination of the above. Factual statements may or may not be accurate. If you would like to have a patient story published on WhiteCoat’s Call Room, please e-mail me.

WTF Moment #1036

Friday, January 4th, 2013

While performing CPR on a patient for the third time in the four hours that the patient was waiting in the ED for an ICU bed, a family member shows up. The family member was invited into the room to watch us perform CPR on his grandmother.

A nursing supervisor asked him whether or not the patient would have wanted to be resuscitated and remain on a ventilator.

The grandson’s response:
“She was into even numbers. If her heart stops beating again, then you can stop because that will be the fourth time that it happened today and four is a powerful number because it is even and it is the total of two even numbers multiplied together AND it is the total of two even numbers added together.”

Several staff members just looked at each other with blank stares.

Oddly enough, grandma passed away on our third resuscitation attempt.

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This and all posts about patients may be fictional, may be my experiences, may be submitted by readers for publication here, or may be any combination of the above. Factual statements may or may not be accurate. If you would like to have a patient story published on WhiteCoat’s Call Room, please e-mail me.

That’s Some Serious Constipation

Monday, December 31st, 2012

By Birdstrike M.D.

 

“Help.  Help!  I need something for the pain!” I hear a woman wailing from Emergency Department room 4.

“What’s that all about?” I ask Veronica the nurse.  “I guess I need to see that one first, don’t I?”

“No.  She says she’s got constipation and no other problems.  You need to see room 7 first, which is a 70-year-old male with back pain, hypertension and a family history of abdominal aneurysm.  He might have an actual emergency,” answers Veronica.

“Definitely, and thanks for letting me know,” I say, as I walk in to see the possible abdominal aortic aneurysm (AAA) patient.  I glance at his vital signs.  They are totally normal.  I walk in the room and he’s sitting on the stretcher eating a triple cheeseburger, smiling and says, “What’s up doc?”

“What brings you in here today, Sir?” I ask.

“Oh, nothin’.  My back hurts.  I think I pulled a muscle,” he says.

“Have you ever been told you have an abdominal aneurysm?”  I ask.

Out of room 4 and into my ears, blast some more primordial screams, “Oh.  Oh!  Ooooooohhh!

“No, I’ve never had one, but my dad died of an aneurysm.  I’ve got high blood pressure, though.  You better go see that lady, doc,” he says.  “I’ll be fine.  You go check on her.”

“Let me feel your abdomen,” I say.  I can’t feel any pulsating mass.  I push a little deeper: still nothing.  I feel his radial, femoral and foot pulses: they are all normal.  I finish my exam and put in an order for a CT aortogram,  along with the rest of his workup.  “Sir, I need you to put the cheeseburger down, until we get this checked out, okay?  We need to keep your stomach as empty as possible until we know what’s going on, alright?”

“You got it, doc,” he answers.

I move on to room 4.  “Oh.  Oh!  Heeeeeelp!   I need a laxative.  Please, something for the pain,” screams an obese 42 year-old Caucasian woman.

“That should be no problem.  Just tell me a bit more about what’s going on, ma’am,” I ask as she paces the room, obviously very uncomfortable and anxious out of proportion to a case of constipation.

“It’s been about a week since I had a bowel movement.  I feel  r e a l l y  bloated,” she says.  “Whoa.  Whoa!  Whoa!”  she moans, then takes a few slow, deep breaths.  “It feels like I’ve got an 8 pound ROCK stuck down there binding me up.  Please!  Give me a laxative, an enema or something.  Stick your hand up there and take it out, I don’t care what you’ve go to do.  Just do something for the pain.  I’m begging you, please!”

“Where is your pain?” I ask her.

“Right here,” she says pointing to her lower mid abdomen.

“When was your last menstrual period?” I ask.

“Oh, geez.  Oh geez!” she says, as she stops pacing and lies down on the stretcher.  She lies on her side and gets into a fetal position.  “Just give me an enema.  I’ve been disimpacted before.  Just do it.  Do it!”

“Okay, I’ll have to do a rectal exam.  If there is an impaction, I’ll try to remove as much as possible and then we will give you an enema.  It will be very uncomfortable, but you’ll get tremendous relief.  Okay?”  Veronica hands me some gloves and some lubricant.  I lean over to do the rectal exam and she lets out her loudest scream yet.

“I think it’s coming out!  Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggghhhh!” she screams.  I lean over again to do the rectal exam and out comes a very,

high-pitched,

“Wa”

“Wah”

Waaaaaaaaah!

Huh? Veronica and I quickly turn to each other; our eyes lock together, bulging in disbelief.  “A baby?! What the…?” both Veronica and I ask in unison.  “You didn’t tell us you’re pregnant!”  we both say, in stereo.  This woman is not constipated, she having a baby!  Not only is she having a baby, she having it in my 8-bed “almost” ER where I only work once per month, where I’m the only doctor on duty, and with no Obstetrician or  Labor and Delivery unit.

“What?  Pregnant?!  I’m not pregnant!” says our “constipated” patient.

Just then, I realize that it’s been years since I’ve delivered a baby.  The head is out and the baby already managed to take a breath and emit a loud wail between contractions.  Oh crap! I think to myself.  “Call 911 for transfer, get an OB kit, and hook up some oxygen tubing, while I deliver this baby.”  Please, let this be a quick, easy delivery where I just catch, I think to myself.

Aaeerrrrrrrgggh!” she screams as I hold the baby’s head and then deliver the shoulders.  With only a second or third push, out comes a screaming “8-pound-rock” of a baby boy.  We clamp and cut the cord, wrap the pink, screaming, wiggling baby in a blanket and hand mom the new unexpected addition to her family.  The complete lack of prenatal care didn’t seem to hold this kid back, I think to myself, as he’s as vigorous and healthy appearing as I’ve ever seen a newborn baby.

Our new mom holds her baby and begins to cry.  “I’m 42 years old.  They told me I could never get pregnant.  He’s my miracle baby.  I didn’t even know I was pregnant,” she says, still in disbelief, sobbing.

“Neither did we,” I say, breathing a momentary sigh of relief.  “Where’s the ambulance?  We need to get mom and baby to Labor and Delivery.”

Suddenly, I realize I have a possible AAA patient in Room 7.  Hopefully he’s still stable, I think to myself, not having expected to have to play Obstetrician while he was getting a CT scan for possible leaking AAA.  I glance into his room and he’s sitting up, chomping down not on his cheeseburger, but a super-sized order of fries and a 32 oz. Coke.  This guy isn’t sick, I think to myself.  I check his CT report and the rest of his tests.  Everything is completely normal.

“I have good news, Sir.  All of your tests are normal.  There is no evidence of aneurysm.  You probably did pull a muscle in your back.  I’m going to let you go home now,” I tell the 70-year-old man with “back pain”.

“Doc, I know it’s none of my business, but I was in the waiting room with that woman, and she was screaming and carrying on about being constipated,” he replies.  “I must say, I thought she was being a bit over dramatic, but I saw one person go in that room and two come out.  I got to give it to her, that’s some serious constipation!”

 

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This author does not divulge protected patient information or information from real life court cases.  Any post that appears to resemble a real patient or trial can only be by coincidence. This author does not post, has not posted and will not post factual identifying information about real patients.  To the extent that any post is inspired by the real life experiences of the author or any other physician, all names, dates, ages, sexes, locations, diagnoses, events and all other factual information are routinely changed to the extent that they should be considered fictional.  Any opinions expressed here are of the author alone and not those of epmonthly, WhiteCoat, my employer or any of the hospitals with which I am affiliated.

NOW You Tell Me

Thursday, December 27th, 2012

Paramedics bring in a three year old girl who was hit in the head by a television that had fallen off some shelves. It appeared to be a glancing blow – with some bruises to the side of the face and a bump to the back of the head. The only problem was that she was just crying on the backboard and she wouldn’t move her arms or legs.

Take a pen and squeeze the barrel against the base of your fingernail. Hurts like heck, right? I did that to the little girl a few times on each hand and all she did was cry. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull her hands away. Just cried. I lifted her hands up and dropped them over her face. Usually patients will pull their hands to the side. She let her hands flop right onto her nose.

I reached through the collar and pressed on her neck. Didn’t feel any step-offs or other abnormalities. Again, she just cried when I touched her neck.

Damn.

“Can we get her off the backboard?”

On the inside, I was freaking out a little. “Ummmm … NOOOOO. Are you out of your MIND? Can’t you see she’s paralyzed?”
On the outside, I stayed calm. “Just to be safe, we should probably leave the collar on until we make sure nothing is broken.”

So I bit the bullet and ordered CT scans of her head and neck.
She was over in the radiology department for quite a while. I kept checking the PACS machine to look for the films.
Finally, the images showed up.
Normal head CT.
Normal cervical spine CT.
At least that’s the way that I read them.

I went back into the room to check on her. She was up off of the board, her collar was removed, and she was playing on her mom’s iPad. Back to normal. I did another neurologic exam and everything was now normal.

Wow. Complete neurologic recovery from ionizing radiation?

So I mentioned to the patient’s parents that I was a little worried about her when she wouldn’t move her arms or legs on her initial exam.

Her dad says “That? Oh she always does that when she gets upset.”
“You mean she always just goes limp?” I asked.
“Yeah. She comes around after 20 minutes or so. Just like she did tonight. We tell her not to do that, but … you know three year olds.”

I smiled and nodded … and I thought to myself “why didn’t you tell me that BEFORE I messed my undergarments?”

And I think back to the medical school gurus who used to tell us that 90% of the patients will tell you what is wrong with them if you ask the right questions.

Not sure how to add this fact pattern to the history, though.

———————–

This and all posts about patients may be fictional, may be my experiences, may be submitted by readers for publication here, or may be any combination of the above. Factual statements may or may not be accurate. If you would like to have a patient story published on WhiteCoat’s Call Room, please e-mail me.

Chronic Hip Pain

Tuesday, December 18th, 2012

“Careful, he’s been in here like six times in the past month and a half. Always looking for his narcs. Check the state database.” That was the report I got from the triage nurse as I picked up the chart.

I humored her and checked the state database. She was right. The patient had received prescriptions for opiates from 6 different physicians in the past two months — two from the hospital across town and the rest from our hospital emergency department. Each time they were only for a handful of pills – usually 10 or 12.

I went into the room with a skeptical eye.

He was moaning in pain. Couldn’t tell if he was acting or not. If he was, he was doing a pretty good job at it.
I examined his hip briefly and was horrified to feel his hip joint grind under my hands and watch his leg flop back and forth. Damn. He’s got a broken hip. I ordered an x-ray.

Then I heard his story.

He was driving to work a couple of years ago and he was broadsided by a drunk driver. Heavy vehicle damage. Suffered a broken hip and an acetabular fracture. He was taken to a trauma center and surgeons fixed his injuries. Unfortunately, the surgical site got infected. They had to remove all the hardware and inserted an antibiotic implant. Later, they planned to go back in and revise the surgery.

In the interim, the patient lost his job and his insurance. He had state minimum auto insurance that didn’t cover his medical bills. The person who hit him was uninsured and undocumented. His wife left him six months ago. He lost his house and had to move several hundred miles away to live with his son a couple of months ago.

After losing his job and his insurance, he applied for and received state insurance – Medicaid. Fortunately, he was insured.
With his insurance change, though, he had to wait almost six months for an orthopedist appointment. He even kept the appointment slip. The orthopedist evaluated him and scheduled him for surgery the following week. When he tried to find a doctor to do a pre-op physical exam, the only doctors/clinics that would take his insurance gave him an appointment three months in the future. So the surgery had to be canceled.
I hate being lied to, so I called the number on the appointment slip and checked his story out. He wasn’t lying.

When he called doctors and clinics in the area, no one in a 45 mile radius would take him as a patient because of his insurance. He’d been to several emergency departments to try to get orthopedic treatment and the orthopedists all referred him back to the original orthopedist who did his trauma surgery.
When I called our orthopedist, he looked at the x-rays and declined the case as well. High incidence of complications given the delay in treatment. Not likely that even the original surgeon will fix this now. The patient would most likely end up using crutches the rest of his life.
I felt sorry for this guy, especially seeing how well his insurance was helping him with his problems. The only assistance he received was a pair of crutches.

So I ended up doing something I’ve never done before. I gave a patient a month’s worth of Norco from the emergency department.

Any of us could be a stop light and skid mark from being in his exact same position.

What would you do?

———————–

This and all posts about patients may be fictional, may be my experiences, may be submitted by readers for publication here, or may be any combination of the above. Factual statements may or may not be accurate. If you would like to have a patient story published on WhiteCoat’s Call Room, please e-mail me.

 

 

 

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