Adding Insult to Injury at the Emergency Room

Returning to the day of my fall, neither I nor my family could give the firefighters and paramedics who took me to the ER anything but our utmost praise and gratitude. Unfortunately, the same can not be said for my experience at the Medical Center of Plano's ER.

I remember bits and pieces of the experience, and the rest has been filled in for me by my husband, parents and niece, who were all there with me throughout.

The first thing I remember is the overwhelming need to vomit, despite medications given to me by the paramedics to counteract that symptom. The second is the intense and extremely frightening reaction I had when the paramedics moved me from the stretcher to the ER bed. As they moved me to my right side, I felt myself spinning around in fast and uncontrollable circles. I remember screaming out in fear and pain.

I later learned that this horrific internal spinning feeling was vertigo, something I had previously only associated with a fear of heights. To this day, I still live with this, but to an increasingly lesser degree.

From what I understand, I managed to relate my medical history and the circumstances fairly well to the ER staff. This may be part of the problem. By all accounts, I seemed fairly lucid and spoke clearly, though I remember very little, and certainly didn't feel lucid.

Several doses of morphine and anti-nausea medication did little good. I remained strapped into a huge neck brace and, I think, was still strapped down. 

The ER staff questioned my family about what happened, and David told them about the crack he heard when I hit the floor. My Mom told them it wasn't the floor that cracked.

I don't remember at any point anyone touching my head or checking my body for other injuries. It was only after I left the ER that I discovered the massive bruises on my elbows, and what felt like a slight crack in my right elbow.

At some point, I was rolled back to a room for a CT scan. A team of people moved me from the hospital bed to the rolling stretcher, but once alone in the CT scan room, I was told by the lone nurse that I had to move myself from the stretcher to the CT table. Considering the pain I was in and the fact that I still wore a giant neck brace, this was nothing short of excruciating as I wiggled my way from stretcher to table.

Rather than helping me or calling for orderlies to help, the nurse simply asked if it "hurt much?" Had I been in my right mind, I would have done more than cry and feebly answer "yes." I imagine something along the lines of, "What do you think, you thoughtless cow?" would have been an appropriate response.

Following the misery of the single scan and again moving myself from table to stretcher, I just wanted to die. Back in the ER bed, I got more morphine and anti-nausea meds, and lost track of time until the doctor made his appearance. 

The verdict, he explained to my family and me, was this was the worst concussion he had seen in 10 years. It was the kind boxers and football players received, and more than one like this could end a sports career. As for me, he told me the pain would get worse, not better. He then discharged me and sent me home with a couple of prescriptions and an order to follow up with my physician in 5 days. This whole experience took less than three hours.

So, I was sent home in horrible pain and violently ill, with no ability to take care of myself or even remember what, if any medications I had taken, or even keep those medications down. All my needs were taken care of by David, who fortunately works from home. But as busy as he was, it wasn't easy for him to work and ministrate to my every need. 

Five days went by like this. No shower, and only getting out of bed to go to the bathroom. Christmas was celebrated in our bed and ended abruptly when I became overwhelmed and needed to vomit. 

The Monday after Christmas, David took me to our primary care physician, who instantly recognized not only that I was suffering from more than just a bad concussion, but that at least one of the medications I was given by the ER was counterproductive. He immediately ordered two new scans, one of which - a CT scan with contrast - the hospital had failed to do.

That evening he called and I could hear the fear and surprise in his voice when he told me that I very clearly had an occipital skull fracture. (The occipital bone is the thickest part of the skull and, therefore, the hardest to fracture.) A follow-up MRI confirmed that I also had subdural hemorrhaging in the front of my head. Because the hospital never bothered to do these scans, they sent me home in a potentially life-threatening condition, and with the wrong medication to boot.

All they needed to do the day of my fall was simply admit me to the hospital and do further tests to determine the full extent of my condition. In fact, all of my doctors have expressed surprise that this was not done, as it's standard procedure that protects both the patient and the hospital.

Instead, they threw me out and billed nearly $10,000 for what amounted to mistreatment and misdiagnosis. To add insult to injury, I've spent the better part of a year trying to get answers and resolutions from the hospital to no avail. At their best, they patronize me and offer excuses that ring false. At their worst, they promise to take action and give me resolution, then never fulfill their promises. 

Of course, the bottom line is, they don't care about me or my case, and they have a team of lawyers and professionals telling them what they can get away with. I, on the other hand, can't commit the energy or resources to take legal action. And because I'm not seeking financial gain, no lawyer is in the least bit interested in taking my case.

At the moment, I'm once again waiting on someone from the hospital to call me back - something they swore up and down they would do 2 months ago.

So here I am, nearly a year after being mistreated in their hospital, still being mistreated outside of it.

Oh, and the excuse they gave me for making me move myself from stretcher to table and back was that they had ruled out spinal injury at that point, so it was "safe" for me to move myself, even though they admitted it was still inappropriate. Come to find out, when I recently received the itemized ER bill I requested, guess what scan they did on me in addition to the head scan? You got it... a SPINAL scan. Guess they hadn't ruled it out after all.

Not surprisingly, mine is not the only horror story I know of at the Medical Center of Plano ER. In sharing my experiences with others, they've shared theirs with me. And yet the hospital continues to get away with these ER debacles, to no detriment of their own. Just to the patients they are supposed to protect.

Had I received the proper testing and treatment at the hospital the day of my injury, I not only would have been spared five days of misery without the benefit of good medical attention, I also would have been able to start the road to recovery almost immediately. Instead, it took nearly a month to get properly diagnosed and into an ongoing program of treatment and recovery. 

Of course, in the worst case, the hospital's lack of action could have meant the loss of my life. Fortunately for them and for me, it didn't. Ironically, had I died because of their failures, they would have had serious repercussions. Since I lived, no thanks to them, they face no penalties for their actions.

If I sound bitter, it's because I am. In simple terms, they shouldn't be allowed to get away with it. But they did, and will likely continue to until someone does die. That is what scares me the most.