notsmartmark
Member
What is the name of your state?I want to know why I could not get a lawyer to take this case.
I was in a horrible car accident in the state Washington a little over 9 years ago. I was driving home from work on my 35th birthday in a light duty truck. I work with students who are disabled. After completing my last meeting on that late January day, I ran into a hailstorm at the top of a hill and lost control of my S-10 truck. A student driving home from school in a different car died in the head-on accident, as I should have. I was neither drinking nor speeding, just a young man from San Diego in his 4th winter up north who never should have been driving such a small truck. In the accident, my left arm (yes, my dominant arm) was caught in my seatbelt, and swelled to an amazing size. I also had a black spot (a little larger that a 50 cent piece) on the inside of my elbow where the seatbelt rubbed.
I was in the hospital for 7 days. I was in such pain when I was admitted that my wonderful wife stayed awake the entire first night and continuously pressed the self-administered morphine infusion IV. No one happened to mention to her that I was to control its usage, and the next morning, the nurse had to give special shot to wake me up, since jumping on my chest didn’t seem to do the trick. During the next few days, nurses starting coming to me and whispering that there are other doctors out there, but I was too distraught to think that they were warning me to get the heck out of there. They might have been telling me this because my doctor (I'll call him Dr. Killedme) stopped all services to me. He told the OT to quit serving me because he didn’t want to use up all of the OT dollars. I later learned that there is no such thing. I also learned later that because my arm was so swollen that it was common to slice it to relieve pressure. During this time, the doctor told people to quit treating my arm, and after 7 days in the hospital, I was sent home without any precautions.
Eight days later, 15 days after the accident, I went in for a routine follow-up visit. While in his office, I noticed a little hole in my arm, and when I touched it, “stuff” started coming out of my arm. Dr. Killedme walked in, looked at my arm, and I swear this is the truth, took out a knife and started cutting the inside of my arm off. I was given nothing. This was done in his little office while I sat on the exam table with my horrified wife watching. After Dr. Killedme was done with his “surgery”, he called a Seattle surgeon, and told him that I need to be seen the next day. He then spent what seemed like an hour packing the hole that he just created with gauze. Dr. Killedme then looked at my wife and told her that she would need to repack my arm that night. I had made the mistake of looking at my arm while he was cutting it off (I had dreams for years about it falling off), and I knew that she could not treat it. When I told him that we would need a nurse to do it, he didn’t take too kindly to my suggestion, and started yelling at us. I didn’t let her touch it that night. The next day we arrive at Seattle, and walk into the office of a hand surgeon who had no idea what he was getting. He took one look at my arm and put me back in the hospital. The hospital spent the first three days working on the wound to get me ready for surgery, and I spent the next 5 days entertaining the parade of newbie’s who had never had the chance to look at the inner workings of an arm. The surgery taught me that it is possible to move skin from your forearm and rotate it to your elbow. I also learned that people harvest skin from other parts of a body to cover newly formed holes. And, finally, I have learned about pain, never ending, mind numbing pain. Even though I have no use of my once dominant arm below the elbow, it still can produce the most exquisite pain that I have ever known. I now have dreams in which animals slash and scratch at my arm.
It’s my daydreams that are horrific. My then boss was a non-practicing attorney who kept trying to convince me that I needed to sue. I found out that Dr. Killedme was connected with every lawyer in town that I contacted, and when I finally found an attorney in another town to hear my concern, the case was rejected. I gave up, but always knew that this doctor was at fault. To this day when I tell anyone that I had trouble with an in town doctor his name is ALWAYS mentioned first or second, by anyone in any profession.
Since I have been going everywhere for pain support, I have learned just how much doctors do not know, and how many doctors do not know anything. It’s too late for me, but is there something I should have done that could help another reader.
Mark B.
"Why" by "Muppets"
Sometimes I'm alone, Sitting on my very own, Trying to find a simple kind of clue.
And I would like to know,
Why the Doozers move me so, Doing all the things that Doozers do.
Why do caterpillars crawl?
Why is there a sky?
Why is there a world at all?
And why do I ask why?
I was in a horrible car accident in the state Washington a little over 9 years ago. I was driving home from work on my 35th birthday in a light duty truck. I work with students who are disabled. After completing my last meeting on that late January day, I ran into a hailstorm at the top of a hill and lost control of my S-10 truck. A student driving home from school in a different car died in the head-on accident, as I should have. I was neither drinking nor speeding, just a young man from San Diego in his 4th winter up north who never should have been driving such a small truck. In the accident, my left arm (yes, my dominant arm) was caught in my seatbelt, and swelled to an amazing size. I also had a black spot (a little larger that a 50 cent piece) on the inside of my elbow where the seatbelt rubbed.
I was in the hospital for 7 days. I was in such pain when I was admitted that my wonderful wife stayed awake the entire first night and continuously pressed the self-administered morphine infusion IV. No one happened to mention to her that I was to control its usage, and the next morning, the nurse had to give special shot to wake me up, since jumping on my chest didn’t seem to do the trick. During the next few days, nurses starting coming to me and whispering that there are other doctors out there, but I was too distraught to think that they were warning me to get the heck out of there. They might have been telling me this because my doctor (I'll call him Dr. Killedme) stopped all services to me. He told the OT to quit serving me because he didn’t want to use up all of the OT dollars. I later learned that there is no such thing. I also learned later that because my arm was so swollen that it was common to slice it to relieve pressure. During this time, the doctor told people to quit treating my arm, and after 7 days in the hospital, I was sent home without any precautions.
Eight days later, 15 days after the accident, I went in for a routine follow-up visit. While in his office, I noticed a little hole in my arm, and when I touched it, “stuff” started coming out of my arm. Dr. Killedme walked in, looked at my arm, and I swear this is the truth, took out a knife and started cutting the inside of my arm off. I was given nothing. This was done in his little office while I sat on the exam table with my horrified wife watching. After Dr. Killedme was done with his “surgery”, he called a Seattle surgeon, and told him that I need to be seen the next day. He then spent what seemed like an hour packing the hole that he just created with gauze. Dr. Killedme then looked at my wife and told her that she would need to repack my arm that night. I had made the mistake of looking at my arm while he was cutting it off (I had dreams for years about it falling off), and I knew that she could not treat it. When I told him that we would need a nurse to do it, he didn’t take too kindly to my suggestion, and started yelling at us. I didn’t let her touch it that night. The next day we arrive at Seattle, and walk into the office of a hand surgeon who had no idea what he was getting. He took one look at my arm and put me back in the hospital. The hospital spent the first three days working on the wound to get me ready for surgery, and I spent the next 5 days entertaining the parade of newbie’s who had never had the chance to look at the inner workings of an arm. The surgery taught me that it is possible to move skin from your forearm and rotate it to your elbow. I also learned that people harvest skin from other parts of a body to cover newly formed holes. And, finally, I have learned about pain, never ending, mind numbing pain. Even though I have no use of my once dominant arm below the elbow, it still can produce the most exquisite pain that I have ever known. I now have dreams in which animals slash and scratch at my arm.
It’s my daydreams that are horrific. My then boss was a non-practicing attorney who kept trying to convince me that I needed to sue. I found out that Dr. Killedme was connected with every lawyer in town that I contacted, and when I finally found an attorney in another town to hear my concern, the case was rejected. I gave up, but always knew that this doctor was at fault. To this day when I tell anyone that I had trouble with an in town doctor his name is ALWAYS mentioned first or second, by anyone in any profession.
Since I have been going everywhere for pain support, I have learned just how much doctors do not know, and how many doctors do not know anything. It’s too late for me, but is there something I should have done that could help another reader.
Mark B.
"Why" by "Muppets"
Sometimes I'm alone, Sitting on my very own, Trying to find a simple kind of clue.
And I would like to know,
Why the Doozers move me so, Doing all the things that Doozers do.
Why do caterpillars crawl?
Why is there a sky?
Why is there a world at all?
And why do I ask why?