Unfiltered Story #255663

(I wasn’t living with my parents when this happened, so I wasn’t around for most of it, but my mom filled me in on what happened.
A little while ago my dad needed back surgery. He went in for the consultation, and the surgeon was, in his words, “like a used car salesman” – pushy, overly enthusiastic, kept saying “it’ll be like a switch has flipped, after this surgery all your back pain will just be gone!”. This was a bit of a red flag, but my dad’s not one to make a fuss, and he needed the surgery pretty urgently, so he went ahead with that surgeon anyway.
Fast forward to after the surgery. A nurse comes in to get my dad up and walking around – they want that to happen as soon as possible after the procedure in order to prevent blood clots. My dad does his best to get up, but even just doing a single lap around his room is excruciatingly painful.)

Dad: “This really hurts, I think something isn’t right.”

Nurse: “Nonsense, a little pain is normal after such a major surgery, you’ll be fine!”

Dad: “No this REALLY hurts, something is wrong!”

(This keeps going every time someone comes in to help my dad walk around, with him saying he’s in pain, and the nurse or whoever it is dismissing him. Eventually, he’s discharged from the hospital, and my mom takes him home.
What follows is two weeks of nonstop pain for my dad, with absolutely no improvement. Finally, my mom has my two brothers – who were living with my parents at the time – literally carry my dad out to the car, since he’s unable to get there by himself. They fold down the back seats of the car so my dad can lie flat (because even sitting upright is too painful for him) while my mom drives him to the hospital.
Once there, she goes in to find someone who can bring out a wheelchair and help get my dad into it (my mom is a very small person and can’t support my dad’s weight well on her own). Again, sitting upright in the wheelchair is very painful for him, but it’s a slightly better option than forcing him to walk in.
Once inside the hospital, my mom explains the situation to the receptionist and demands to speak to the surgeon who had performed my dad’s surgery.)

Receptionist: “Um…I think he’s in surgery right now.”

Mom: “I don’t care! My husband is in a massive amount of pain because [Surgeon] messed up, and I want to speak to him right now! We’re not leaving here until we speak to him!”

(Maybe this is a bit of overkill, but my mom watched my dad suffer for the past two weeks straight, and at this point she’s livid. Eventually someone does pull [Surgeon] out of surgery and gets him on the phone with my mom.)

Mom: *explains situation again* “What should we do?”

Surgeon: “Well, if he’s in that much pain, check him into the emergency room. The ER doctor can do an exam right away.”

Mom: “Thank you, that’s all I needed to know.”

(So they do just that. My dad is wheeled over to the ER, and once there, the doctor takes one look at him and asks if anyone has done an MRI since the surgery, to make sure it had actually worked. No, of course not.
One MRI later and it’s determined that the first surgery hadn’t in fact worked (what my dad had been insisting all along), and that further surgery is needed. My parents get it scheduled as quickly as possible, and after the second procedure, my dad is once again enjoying his very active lifestyle including hiking, swimming, and lifting weights. All thanks to that emergency room doc who took the very obvious step of actually acknowledging a patient’s pain!)