They lost my blood

In a few days I’m having minor surgery, and so last week I had a pre-surgery evaluation at the joint hospital. I could write about how that one appointment perfectly encapsulated all that is woefully inefficient about our lovely medical system -- could recount in great detail how over the course of an hour, three different people visited me in the same exam room full of pigs (Beanie Baby pigs, fuzzy pigs, pigs of plastic, even a soap-dish pig) to ask me the same set of questions, the answers to which they then recorded in three separate places  --  but that is all just shockingly commonplace, and so I won’t. What I would like to share is what happened on Monday, when I got a call from the joint hospital.

"Hello, ma’am. Did you come in for a pre-surgery appointment on oh, um, uh, eh--"

"Last week?"

"Yes, last week. You came in for an appointment, and did they, um -- did they take blood?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Well. Our lab can't find it."

"Can't find it? You mean they lost it?"

"Yes. So we're going to need to have you come in again before the surgery so we can take some more."

"I see. So, sometime this week, then? Can I drop by any day?"

"Yes."

"And you're open how late?"

"Oh, till about 5."

"And open at 9 a.m.?”

"Yes."

"O.K., then."

"But wait -- could you tell us what day you think you'll be coming, so we can have your file pulled?"

"Oh. O.K. I guess … tomorrow?"

"Fine. See you then."

First, do marvel at the "duh" factor. “Did they take blood?” Of course they took blood! Is it normal to get a pre-surgery work-up without the taking of the blood? Or is that something the medical staff doesn't bother itself with these days?

Second, there was the dazzling precision: I can drop by any day, sure, except that really, I can’t -- I have to let them know ahead of time so they can pull the file. Because it takes hours to track down those files, dontcha know. They can’t possibly be filed electronically -- or even alphabetically. They must be encoded in Sanskrit haiku and watched over by gnomes in the deep, dark basement who demand a 128-bit-encrypted password and your mother’s mother’s mother’s maiden name in return for access.

But third: How does this happen? I mean, we're not talking paperclips or pens. Blood, you might think, would be treated with a little more care, no? This wasn't even a mobile unit. It's not like the blood took a wrong turn on the interstate or was hijacked by marauding vampires. It's a vial. With a label. It goes into, what, a fridge? And one would hope it would be a fairly secure fridge, with clear labeling to the effect of DO NOT LOSE THIS BLOOD. And one would hope that on the journey from the fridge to the lab (and back), my vial and all the other vials would be kept in some likewise secure-type thingamabob, with more labeling along the lines of BLOOD: DO NOT LOSE! or LOSE BLOOD AND DIE!

I suppose the silver lining would be that this is all happening before the surgery, that they’re getting it out of their system. Except that the silver lining is a bit obscured by the fact that somewhere, out there, is a vial of blood with my name or code or Sanskrit haiku on it, and no one knows where that is. That's just slightly unnerving.

Comments

[aimee m.]

aha. ignore earlier email re: leg. that said, this is the second 'lost blood' story i've heard in as many days. yay world of medicine.

when i was in high school, my mom thought i had mono (or something.) i went to the doctor's and had all sorts of tests done, blood drawn, etc. a week passed and i called the doctor to see what was taking so damned long. nurse says there's probably been a mistake, as the blood work came back, and, um, it said i was pregnant. oops. turns out it was the wrong blood. too bad for the preggers chick who was told she was just sick...

[Dave Wong]

Ouch. I guess that's why I haven't met anyone who loves going to the hospital.

I know you mentioned it's "minor" surgery -- but good luck anyway!!