Today I want to touch on something, but I must tread lightly else I shoot myself in the foot and need care; which, appropriately, is the topic.
These words are from a guest column in the Aug. 26 issue of the Rustler/Tribune: “Mee Memorial’s mission is rooted in patient-centered care …. In fact, our smaller size is an advantage. It allows us to prioritize core services and rapid care while we care for you, not just as a patient but as a neighbor.” The author is the CEO of Mee Memorial Healthcare System (MMHS) in the role of propaganda minister and cheerleader; which is fine. Every institution, business and political individual or group needs to put forward their best face, so as to instill confidence in the public. What the role of positive promoter does not do, though, is offer any transparency or recitation of those instances where the system has failed to uphold their mission.
Because I first entered Mee Memorial Hospital at 11 years old with a broken arm and have returned many times since, and given that I have lived for 12 years two-and-a-half blocks from the facility, I am both patient and neighbor, which I believe allows me the right to comment.
As I have written before in a couple of my columns, from the time Mee existed until I was in my early 20s and now in the past decade, give or take a weekend, I have received excellent care from MMHS. Prior to high school, I had broken and sprained limbs and sutures in three different places, a first knee operation in 1973 and two subsequent a decade ago (one a full joint replacement), two shoulder operations, three hernia operations (I foolishly failed to take enough care after the first two) and probably 10 visits to the ER for a variety of injuries and whatnot. The place has been good to me.
That said, there have been some missteps on the part of the system, and while most were inconveniences, this last was far more than a misstep, it was an MMHS face plant.
In a column some time ago, I mentioned I was diagnosed with Hepatitis C last December. To wax dramatic, that is a death sentence. True, not like an execution with time and place known, but a slow demise yet still no less fatal. I was informed in January by the attending doctor, a gastroenterologist from Salinas, that the appropriate pills which, according to statistics, were 95.7% effective in ending the problem, had been ordered. I waited four months and nothing.
I went to the clinic and asked a receptionist to look into the matter; she said she would. Again, weeks went without response, so I scheduled an appointment with my primary doctor and he then re-ordered the prescription, and again I waited. After a week or two I called the local pharmacy, they told me they had received the order but could not fill it and had transferred it to CVS pharmacy in Soledad, who in turn referred it to CVS Specialty, an out-of-state entity. That opened a whole other can of worms.
The upshot was when I met, finally, with the gastroenterologist three weeks ago, he was unaware I had never received the prescription! I informed that doctor in the days prior to the appointment I had left very specific information on his office phone answering machines, twice. I never got a call back. Had those messages been forwarded to the doctor, all the action needed was a phone call to CVS Specialty verifying the prescription, but instead I was given an appointment “because it had been so long since I had seen him.” The upshot of that appointment was I was scheduled for a needless test (a previous test for the same thing was negative).
This to me was all just more expense to Medicare, which I am sensitive about; the less taxpayers have to spend on my health the better I feel about it. Then came word the prescription was at CVS in Soledad, so I hitched a ride with a friend and made my way there. More communication breakdown. CVS informed my account had been closed. I told them I had never been in their business before in my life; the pharmacist lady referred to a computer and argued that point, so apparently I was nothing but a liar.
So, I called the clinic, for the umpteenth time, and was again told the prescription was there. I went back to the same lady who then informed me that the prescription was special and would never be sent to their pharmacy but would be delivered by mail. That was two hours wasted. So, back to the phone and another long conversation with CVS Specialty who, for the second time, got my mailing address. I have the meds now; eight months late.
According to medical statistics, after I have completed the eight-week, three pills a day regimen, I will be clear of the problem. What I expect then is another appointment with that doctor and he will order another blood test just to be sure. I’ll pass on the appointment and just let the doc call the hospital and order the test. After what I experienced with multiple communication failures, I think in future if need arises, I’ll just skip the whole clinic rigamarole and go to the ER; maybe the one at Natividad.
And while this reads as just one man’s account, I can assure you I am not alone in some of these complaints. I’m sure a full disclosure of how many times MMHS gets complaints lodged and or legal actions filed would reveal shortcomings in their ability to pass on information in a timely fashion, or at all. I don’t expect that to happen because I did send a message to the lady CEO about my situation but, again, received no response.
Take care. Peace.
Columnist Steve Wilson may be reached at sc**********@***oo.com.
