An Anniversary No One Should Have to Remember

Four years ago today was the beginning of my journey to the dark side of medical care.

It began with a lump, about the size of a golf ball, just under my skin on my torso -- just a few inches above my navel. My family doctor didn't know what it was, so on June 30th, 2004, I was sent to the surgeon. The surgeon removed it and declared he had never seen anything like it before. And that was my first clue that my next few months would be an odyssey I would never forget.

I won't elaborate on the details here. They've been documented. If you've never read my misdiagnosis story, and you are curious, then I invite you to do so.

It's days like this, these annual reminders that my June 30th's will never be the same, that I get a bit choked up. It's post traumatic stress, and fortunately four years later, that happens a lot less than it used to.

I share this with you today because it's a reminder of something quite important. Medical errors (in my case misdiagnosis) don't have a beginning, a middle and an end. They have a beginning, they have a middle, but they never end. Even if they are solved, and the person involved ends up healthy (like me), or at least not more debilitated than at the beginning, there are constant reminders, at least of a psychological nature, and yes -- anniversaries.

I hope that next year, or the year after, I won't remember this anniversary. Each year, 98,000 Americans die from medical errors. I know their loved ones remember them on the anniversaries of their errors. I wish for the loved ones, that the sting will diminish over time.

Have you suffered a medical error? Do you remember an anniversary date, too? I invite you to talk about it in the Patient Empowerment forum.