Even in Treatment, You Just Can’t Win

Daily Observer

August 16, 1973

 

 

S.Q. Lapius was wearing his smoking jacket instead of his old bathrobe.  “Why so formal,” I asked.

“That orthopedic fellow, what’s his name, Dr. Pes Planus is supposed to come over.  I told him I’d call as soon as I had finished editing this article.  Give him a ring, will you Harry?”

“What’s his number?”

“It’s in the phone book,” Lapius said graciously, while he stretched out on his recliner and lit a long black cigar.  I found the number and dialed Tibia 7-0234.  Planus answered.

“The great one is ready, Pes.  You can come over any time now.”
Twenty minutes later the doorbell rang.  It was Planus.  He was disconsolate.  I showed him into the living room.  Lapius bestirred himself, and struggled off the recliner to shake hands.

“A drink?”

“Yes thanks, if you’ll add some cyanide.”

“Mix Pes a drink, Harry.”

“Okay Pes,” I said to the morose man, “Should I add liquor or do you want it straight?”

Pes ignored me and turned to Lapius.  “Simon, you know a lawyer named Gautier, don’t you?  Felix Gautier.”

Lapius was instantly cautious.  “A mere acquaintance, my boy, why?”

“Do you know him well enough to act as an intermediary?”

“Perhaps.  What’s the trouble.”

Pes looked troubled.  He was momentarily tongue-tied.  “Here Pes, here’s your drink.  Straight cyanide.”

“Thanks,” he said and took a long gulp, like Socrates downing the hemlock.  When nothing happened, he recounted the tale of the molested orthopedic surgeon.

“Fellow came to me with severe back pain.  I made a presumptive diagnosis of slipped disk and did a myelogram.  Had no trouble putting the dye into subarachnoid space.  I put the needle in between Lumbar vertebrae 3 and 4.  But because the needle sometimes obscures the x-ray I removed it.  After the pictures were taken I pondered whether to reinsert the needle and withdraw the dye.  There are two schools of thought.  The English usually leave the dye in.  But here, and now I know why, the practice is to consider the dye a foreign body, and remove the dye.  Anyway, the lesion proved to be a disk and I removed it.  The patient didn’t do too well. After an initial period of apparent recovery his pains started again, with definite nerve root problems, radiation of pain, loss of function.  I figured he had unstable back or perhaps even another disk.”

Lapius was listening sympathetically.  “Was it?” he prodded.

“We’ll never know.  He never came back.”

“Went to another doctor?”

“No.  To a lawyer.  The lawyer, this same Gautier, sent him to another doctor, a radiologist.  The x-rays showed dye in the spinal column and they are suing me now.”

“On what grounds?”

“On the grounds that the dye caused the subsequent pains.  They say he probably has an arachnoiditis, and that it was due to the dye I left in.”  “Ridiculous,” I interjected.  “They’ll never be able to prove that.”

“They don’t have to prove it,” said Lapius.  “All they have to do is to get a jury to believe it.  That should be easy with Gautier hammering at the jury, pointing to the x-rays set up on a light box in the courtroom, where everyone will be able to see the white dye in the spinal column.  Then there will be a few experts to sonorously pronounce the dangers of retained dye.  Pes, I think you are in for a bad time.”

“Frankly, Lapius, that case is only half the problem.  It’s the other case I’m worried about.”

“The other case!  Harry, get poor Pes another drink.  Quickly.”

Pes didn’t wait for the refill.  “When the next disk came along I became canny.  I introduced the dye at a higher level so I could leave the needle in, without its interfering with the x-rays, so I could remove the dye.  That’s better than repeating the lumbar puncture to try to get the dye out.  Sure enough the fellow had a demonstrable disk, and I spent the next hour removing the dye.  Of course a few times I pulled a nerve trunk against the needle point, and caused some sharp but temporary radiation’s of pain.”

“I presume you retrieved all the dye, Pes?”

“Absolutely every drop.”

“Admirable.”

“That’s what I thought.  But after surgery the patient continued to have back pain.  He tried to get in touch with me but I was at a meeting in California.  He went to another orthopod who told him that trying to take the dye out was traumatic and could induce nerve injury.  That he always left the dye in.”

“Did the other doctor have any constructive recommendations other than that?”

“Sure.  He introduced him to Gautier.  It turns out he’s one of Gautier’s experts.  He will testify against me.”

Lapius whistled.  “Let me get this straight, Pes.  You are being sued by Gautier for two cases.  One because you damaged the patient by leaving the dye in and the other because you damaged the patient by removing the dye.”

“Correct.”
“What do you want me to do?”

“I thought maybe you could testify in my behalf.”

“Which case?”

“Both.  I want you to say in one case that it is preferable to leave the dye in, and in the other that it is preferable to remove it.”

Lapius brooded over that for a moment.  “I can’t do that Pes.  Maybe I’ll do you one better, though.  I’ll be willing to testify that arachnoiditis can be caused by the lumbar puncture itself, that the back pain can be the result of the original condition, that surgery is no guarantee of cure in all cases.  That’s the best I can do for you.”

“I’ll take it.  And thanks a lot Simon.”

Lapius was melancholy.  “I don’t like to see medicine prostituted by third parties.  More and more doctors are forced to practice defensively, so that the patient’s welfare is diluted by all sorts of considerations that have nothing to do with the case.  Because lawyers stand in the wings ready to pounce on the one case in ten thousand that gets arachnoiditis if the dye is left in place, doctors like poor Pes Planus have to do handsprings to get the dye out, and in so doing, perhaps cause more damage than if he didn’t bother.  It’s getting so a doctor can no longer concentrate on what he’s doing for a patient, but rather must consider how his procedure will stand up on a court of law.”

The phone rang.  I answered.  “It’s Gautier, Simon.  He fell down a flight of stairs and thinks he broke his ankle.  Wants to know can you recommend a good bone doctor.”

“Tell him to stay put.  I’ll send one over right away.”