What we need are more lawsuits and more lawyers who are willing to file them. We need to have the MICRA caps lifted so we can sue the shit out of doctors. Most of our legal system is clogged with corporations suing each other. The opening in the courthouse doors gets smaller and smaller for ordinary people.
So yeah, I like lawsuits and juries. Good stuff, good times.
The other day I fell off my bicycle while going too fast on new tires thinking I was a badass until my Big Orange team asphalt magnets kicked in and I bounced and flounced on my forearm and head and hip and nutsack until resistance (which wasn’t futile) slowed me and finally stopped me in the middle of the road.
They took me to Torrance Memorial Hospital where I wondered what they were memorializing. Aren’t memorials for dead people? I supposed that’s a good name for a hospital, on second thought.
Anyway, they took an x-ray and the tech was like “Yo, dude, no fracture!” which was followed up by the radiologist who read all three films and concluded, “Yo, dude, no fracture!” and was reconfirmed by the ER doc who said, “Yo, dude, no fracture and while we’re at it that’s an awfully tiny nutsack.”
So naturally I found out a week later that I had a fracture. This pissed me off because I’d tossed all my meds and suffered like a pigdog for seven days thinking it was a nutsack strain rather than a crack in my childbearing hips. The ortho was like, “Ah, fuggit dude, nothin’ they could have done about it anyway, ditch the crutches as soon as you can and quit dragging your leg and it’ll heal up in about nine weeks and no I won’t prescribe heroin for sleeping.”
Once I got better I got madder, thinking about all that pain and suffering I went through, soaking my nutsack in a tomato juice and onion poultice when I should have been stabilizing my childbearing hips and mixing my craft water with fistfuls of Oxycodone, Oxycontin, and beetle feet.
Best thing to do, I figured, was to send ol’ Doc Hosskiller a nastygram and threaten them with a four billion dollar lawsuit. THAT’LL TEACH ‘EM.
Mrs. WM had a different idea. “Why not you just tell ’em onna what happened, nice times?”
She’s nuts, right? But she also holds the key to dinner, so I agreed. Out went the nice letter.
Couple days later I got a call from the head of the ER, Dr. Eric Nakkim. He apologized for his staff missing the fracture. He sympathetically listened to me moan and groan about the pain, and it was genuine sympathy. Then he promised to make it right and not charge me for the physician services. He also wanted to know how this could be used to improve services at the hospital.
He was polite, kind, thoughtful, and really cared about what I’d been through. I felt like a no good, dirty dog, whiny-ass pusbucket. And I respected the heck out of his approach.
More lawsuits in America? Hell, yes.
But not this time. Not even close.
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