They lost my blood.
I like to get blood work done twice a year so I know where my triglycerides and cholesterol are at. That way, I can justify eating pork butt for another six months. This is a routine procedure. In the medical world, it's like learning how to hold the cue before you play pool.
Four days after the miserable, impatient nurse took my blood, Dr. Akbari's assistant calls me and tells me that they haven't sent me my results because they have no idea where my blood is.
Say what??!
"We really don't know how this happened. There is a chance that it was entered into another lab's system. We'll check with them and see if that other lab processed your blood. If not, we'll have you come back in and withdraw more blood."
"You lost my blood?"
"I know. I do apologize. This has never happened before."
She left me a voicemail a few minutes later letting me know that the results weren't at the "other lab" and that I could come in any time next week to get more blood taken. "Apologies again," she muttered, matter-of-factly, as if she had misplaced a flashlight and not my fucking DNA.
"Other lab." Yeah, right. Who was the technician at this other lab? Peter Pan? Assisted by Captain Silver in a white coat?
In the law of medical malpractice, medical professionals get in trouble if they fall below a reasonable standard of care. That legal standard often ends up being the most hotly contested issue in court, especially where surgery or complex cases are concerned.
A patient is entitled to a reasonable standard of care regardless of the type of procedure she's undergoing. The logic behind this is that the average patient doesn't have the knowledge or training to perform even simple medical procedures themselves. I was there for possibly the easiest procedure there is but it's not something I could do myself. Not without making my apartment look like the O.J. crime scene.
Therefore, I placed my trust in the professionals with the ability to do it. Despite the withdrawal itself going smoothly, the fact that they treated my blood like an empty box of donuts falls short of the standard of care any reasonable patient would expect in this situation.
And it wasn't just a shot of blood. It was three vials. Those vials range from 5 to 10 ccs. You have to use both hands to transport them to where they need to go. And if you carry them with one hand, you have to really stretch your fingers and keep a good grip on them. It's not a small amount of blood.
Somehow, between the nurse who hated her life filling up these vials and that stupid phone call, the vials just got lost in the system, like a forgotten foster child.
I want to make something clear: I have no problem getting blood taken. My Mom's taken as much as five vials in one sitting in the past. I look straight down at that fucking needle piercing the soft surface of my vein and disappearing into my arm. And then I watch as the vial goes almost black with my blood, as if there's a solar eclipse in there.
It doesn't hurt and I don't get squeamish.
The reason I'm mad is because of how little everyone seemed to give a shit. It's the principle of a patient being denied the level of diligence they expect from the simplest of procedures. Nevertheless, I still wondered whether it was something I did to make them care less. I was quiet and not very chatty that day because I was sore, but I wasn't rude, I never complained, and I listened patiently to everything Akbari's assistant had to say.
And now, I have the morbid honor of being the first patient of Akbari's whose blood is MIA.
If it can happen to me, then it can happen to anyone. I wouldn't piss on the average doctor if he was on fire, but I give everyone a chance before I judge. If they do a good job, I become a fan, maybe even a friend. But if they live up to their shitty stereotypes, I'll make sure to file that information away in my brain and stay far away.
I'll also help other people do the same. I don't care that I sound a little menstrual right now. I finally know how women feel: They too get a little moody around the same time they lose a lot of blood.
But I need to draw as much attention to this as possible because this isn't a missing order of lo mein. It's medical treatment. I can't speak for other types of treatment or Dr. Akbari's personal touch but the team she has working below her bungled the job bigly. And I'm going to let as many people know about it as I can.
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