Bad Doctor

In the beginning of my Lymphoma Journey, I had a Bad Doctor. The most excellent Dr. V referred us to a surgeon to have a port-a-cath placement with ultrasound guidance and an underarm lymph node dissection for biopsy. Both procedures were done at the same time in an outpatient surgical center. I went straight from the surgical center's recovery room to the hospital for my first chemo.

It did not occur to me at the time to wonder why I wasn't having those procedures done at the hospital, since I was going there anyway.

 

 

The day after the surgery, my underarm surgical wound was draining at lot of lymph fluid. It was soaking the very thick bandages the nurses were applying and soaking my bedclothes and bedding. A nurse said the wound was not completely closed and reported it to Dr. V, who called Bad Doctor to come see about it.

 

About 8:30 PM, Bad Doctor came into my room, late, acting furtive and sneaky. He looked very unkempt and smelled bad. I'm pretty sure he had been drinking. He did not wash his hands even after I pointed out the hand sanitizer and gloves.

 

First thing, he starting scolding me for "telling everyone in the hospital" that he hadn't sutured my surgical wound. I promptly told him I didn't say anything to anyone, that I was sick in bed and couldn't even see it!

 

He had brought a stapler, a suture removal tray, and steri-strips with him. He said he could staple the wound but that the fluid would get backed up and I would get a swelling the size of a baseball under my arm! He was putting pressure on me to tell him what I wanted him to do.

 

My husband was down the hall, in the lounge, making family phone calls. I picked up my phone and told Bad Doctor I wanted my husband. Bad Doctor starting yelling at me!! He said he didn't have time to wait for my husband to get there as he only had 5 minutes and his wife was waiting in the car. Again, I snapped back at him, "He's in the hospital"! I have never had a doctor be so rude to me.

 

I buzzed the nurse and asked her to locate my husband. I think they both ran to my room. And surprise, Bad Doctor suddenly became Mr. Nice Guy when my husband walked in. My husband, the nurse, and I unanimously decided to send Bad Doctor away.  He left the room muttering something about God's will. Indeed. 

 

Was Bad Doctor really going to remove stitches and staple my surgical wound, in his allocated 5 minutes, there in my room, without sterilization or anesthesia of any kind, without even washing his hands??  Probably so.

 

I learned later that Bad Doctor does not have any affiliation or surgical privileges at the hospital! So that is why I had the surgery elsewhere.

 

 

And this was not the end of dealing with the after-effects of Bad Doctor's shoddy and nasty work.

 



 



I am going to an Oncologist (c-a-n-c-e-r d-o-c-t-o-r)

Asheville Hematology & Oncology

 

The first day we met Dr. V, he got right down to business. I truly don't remember too much about what we talked about that day. My husband probably remembers more than I do and he probably took notes; he has been very meticulous about that. And I felt like hell--still running fever, still short of breath, getting weaker by the day.

One of the things I do remember is the Bone Marrow Biopsy. Oh yeah. The very first day we met! I didn't think he had even gotten to first base and here is was going all the way for the home run. Yep, we marched to another room where I got onto a table on my side with one leg pulled up. My husband was there, Dr. V's assistant, and someone from the lab who was dressed in full protective gear, face mask and all. I couldn't tell  what was going on in the room once I was in the position.

What I remember is feeling a lot of pressure. Then a lot of pain. A lot of pain. And I started crying. They let my husband come and hold my hand.

On my way to get the bone marrow biopsy, I went by the lab where 11 vials of blood were drawn.

Afterwards, I walked to the other side of the building to meet another doctor, an oncology surgeon, who would be placing a port-a-cath into my chest and excising a lymph node from my armpit for biopsy. I had an ultrasound of said armpit in order to mark which node would be excised.  That doctor seemed very nice that day, but my husband and I both would develop very bad feelings about him over time.

I also got orders, that day, to go to the heart tower at the hospital for an echo cardiogram, and also to get a PET scan.

What a day! I barely remember crawling to the car to drive home and nothing of that evening.

I don't know if Dr. V used the blue handled or green handled awl (or both) to drive into my hip bone. My husband said he was straining, shaking, sweating, and working hard to get into the bone.

CT Guided Core Needle Biopsy

My Back the Next Day After Dressing was Removed

That Tuesday, in Dr. N's office, she told us she was going to order a biopsy of an abdominal lymph node. Friday, my husband and I went to the hospital for our introduction to Interventional Radiology, of which we would become quite familiar. I liked the doctor I had that day and I loved the nurse. Her name was Angie. She was good with needles, which always helps, and she started an IV with no problems. While I was being prepped, the doctor came in and explained the procedure--he would be going through my back with a long needle to take a sample of an abdominal lymph node. Yikes!

Angie told me I would receive sedation consisting of Versed and Fentanyl. She said I would most likely be awake but just not care. She rolled me into the procedure room where she and a tech positioned me on the very narrow table, face down, feet towards the tube, arms stretched out over my head,  and strapped me down. Angie admonished me not to move and if my nose started itching (??) let her know and she would scratch it for me. They backed me in and out of the scanner a few times to align me for the doctor.

When the doctor came in, he proceeded to stick the needle in. I could hear it crunch and said so. He was surprised because he thought I was asleep. He told the nurse to sedate me and I was immediately asleep. When I awoke, I was on my back, on a gurney, with Angie wiping sweat from my face.

She rolled me back to the recovery room where 2 bottles of that delicious contrast liquid were waiting for me. After I drank it I was rolled away for an abdominal CT scan.

Both procedures turned out to be rather pointless and our insurance company originally balked at paying. The biopsy confirmed lymphoma but no other needed information was gleaned, such as the type and stage of the lymphoma. My first CT scan had already shown the abdominal lymph nodes.

It was only after I asked, demanded really, that I was referred to Dr. V, my Hematologist/Oncologist. My husband and I both have really appreciated our relationship with him. Much, much more about Dr. V and his wonderful nurses and staff will follow.