Real Stories of Malpractice

So, you may or may not have heard about Max Cannon, the Utah County doctor who was recently arrested for trading perscriptions for sex.

Well, neither had I. Until my Dad told me it was the same guy who'd done surgery on my grandfather less than a month ago.

Now that would be an interesting story if it ended there, but it doesn't.

Middle of last week, my grandfather goes back into the hospital because he's been feeling sharp stomach pains and vomiting. They run a bunch of tests, do an X-Ray.

Somebody goes, "Hey, is that a hemostat?"

But it can't be, right? They decide it must have been lying on the table when they did the X-Ray. They do another X-Ray, this time standing up. And it's a hemostat.

Now I've since been told this doesn't really have anything to do with the doctor. They tell me it's the nurses' job to count everything that goes into the body and everything that comes out of the body, right down to the number of gauze pads.

So of course, the hospital is being very accomodating. Free meals, free room at the Ronald McDonald house, and so on. "You won't believe how nice they're being to us," my grandmother said.

We assured her we could believe it.

But what's interesting is that that's actually the same hospital that finally got my wife's diagnosis right after she was misdiagnosed for a year and a half (Hooray for Dr. Keith Hooker!). The same hospital that got my wife's life back on track is the same place that's had to put my Grandfather under the knife twice in under 30 days because of a stupid mistake.

So yes, we are consulting with a malpractice attorney. But no, you're not going to get a crazy rant from me about how it's a hospital full of incompetent psychos.

It's just a bad situation.

Update: Actually, now that I think about it, it was also the hospital I was born in. Whether that's good or bad for the hospital is entirely a matter of opinion.