I am an ENT surgeon, a friend of the author, the patient, and their daughter, whose intervention saved his life. This is a smart, loving family caught in a terrible vortex of terrible medical care until they pulled themselves out, and a story that physicians must read, as we struggle to reinstate humanity and humility into our noble profession. Here is Paul’s tale, as told by his wife.
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On a mid-December evening, my husband Paul fell down our staircase, banging his head. When I found him, he was fully alert and sitting himself up. The EMTs who arrived in the ambulance he didn’t want me to call, were optimistic about his condition, noting that, although in his eighties, he had excellent vital signs, sharp mental acuity, and no appreciable pain. So, when I called to tell my daughter that he was in transit to the local ER, I reassured her that this was nothing serious. I was wrong.
He had, in fact, shattered his neck, and was immediately transferred to the ICU. Nonetheless, it was days before a neurosurgeon consulted with us on his treatment. Having been on the internet, my daughter and I (both teachers) were not surprised when he suggested traction, followed by the wearing of a stiff collar. And this might have been the proper treatment if a different collar had been used: one without a stiff plastic piece down the chest. Because Paul has a short neck and receding chin, the chest piece forced the collar up and over his mouth, obligating nurses and aides to readjust it constantly. It wasn’t long before my daughter, and I noticed that his neck was tilting perilously to the right. But the neurosurgeon and Paul’s GP had gone on vacation, and nobody else could be persuaded to notice.
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