7 minute read
A Medical Malpractice Lawyer Gets Leukemia
A Personal Account of Life-altering Nursing
By John Polewski
IN MID-DECEMBER OF 2023, I was diagnosed with leukemia—a cancer of the blood which causes a spectacular proliferation of white blood cells. So many, in fact, that my blood became unable to carry sufficient oxygen, and became a “sludge” of white blood cells crowding out other blood components. I had been short of breath for a couple of weeks, thought I may have had the flu or covid.
My PCP had a chest Xray done, but my lungs were clear. Then one morning I woke up with huge dark purple bruises all over my body, and even more trouble breathing. I called my PCP and he sent me to the ER at Baylor Medical Center in downtown Dallas. And he told me to pack a bag.
Uh oh.
As a malpractice lawyer I knew too much for my own good: It was apparent that I was dying.
PICKENS SEVEN
There the diagnosis was made almost immediately with blood testing, and I was admitted to the Pickens Cancer Hospital on the Baylor campus for just under six weeks of treatment. First stop was the seventh floor, known as “Pickens Seven.” I came to realize in my time there how incredibly fortunate I was to get a place there, and to be cared for by those nurses.
They saved my life through the application of great skill, state of the art laboratory and blood centers, and most of all caring. Because none of the equipment or science or laboratory work—and none of the doctors, by the way—would have mattered a damn without the nurses who missed nothing, and cared so deeply.
As a malpractice lawyer I knew too much for my own good: It was apparent that I was dying. Much of my time on Seven I don’t remember clearly, but I do remember that the nurses were always exceptionally focused and thorough. There was no chance, for example, of infection in my IV lines. No chance that I would miss my medications. No chance that I would have the wrong dose or type of chemotherapy infused. No chance at all.
They were exceptionally knowledgeable about my disease and its treatment. And exceptionally kind.
A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE
Over my 30-plus years doing what I do, I have handled dozens of cases where people were hurt or killed because of poorly trained or apathetic nurses, and because doctors didn’t pay attention.
I know what good medical care looks like, and my clients have told me many times what bad medical care feels like. I’m telling everyone what exceptional care feels like from my perspective: it feels calming, and warm and peaceful.
When four nurses and staff come into your room at four in the morning—every morning—and do things to and for you as a superbly drilled team, you can feel irritated at the loss of sleep and yet another blood draw and vitals check. But I knew exactly why they were there so early, and exactly why they were doing what they were doing.
I felt such peace of mind and gratitude it is hard to express. I knew I was very sick. I also knew that everything—every single thing—that could be done to save me was being done. I always made sure to say “thank you” to the nurses and techs and make them know I meant it. They were always surprised: I gather they deal with a lot of very crabby patients. But these are patients without the proper perspective, people who don’t know what I know.
I knew then, and I know now, that everything they did had a purpose, and that purpose was to save my life. If you know that, and you know why they are taking your blood at four every morning, then it is really hard not to be grateful. It’s four in the morning for them, too, after all—and they are going to be just fine whether or not I get the platelets I need to survive another day.
I would talk to them and ask them how they got to be a nurse on Seven, and discuss how they felt about their time on Seven. Any patient who heard the answers couldn’t doubt that these were people at war with blood cancer. At war, no exaggeration. I wonder how many patients ask.
At first, I needed a lot of care—blood products and medications every day all day and all night at first. Then I gradually got better. My mind, which had been dulled by the disease and the drugs, woke up again. I was able to eat normally again, and to start moving around with my IV pole instead of sitting all day.
VOTED OFF THE ISLAND
And one day, one of the nurses on Seven came to tell me it was time to go. I still needed to be in the cancer hospital, but they had saved me on Pickens Seven and now needed my place there to save someone else. Because that’s what they do on Seven: they are the frontline.
I didn’t like it. I joked about having been “voted off the island” like in the TV show “Survivor”. I knew they had saved me, and I knew that somebody else really needed my place, but...I didn’t like it. “Off the island” wasn’t far away: just one floor down on Pickens Six. I received more great care there, from other very professional and kind nurses. But the intensity of Pickens Seven was absent: I was going to live, everybody knew it, and they were getting me ready to go, not battling to save my life.
People ask me if it feels wrong to pursue medical malpractice cases involving poor nursing care after the spectacular care that saved me. I don’t think so. I saw what can be done. I live because nurses did their jobs right.
When I finally got out of the hospital two weeks later, I had two months of daily chemotherapy infusions at another building on the Baylor campus. More kind and skilled nurses there, but this time I was better off than almost all the other patients around me. My infusions were unpleasant, but nothing like as bad as others I saw. And I was going to live.
As we sat in our recliners with various poisons infusing into our veins, I saw and spoke with people who pretty obviously were not.
It would have been so easy for me to die of my leukemia. If there hadn’t been a place for me on Pickens Seven. If even one of the dozens of nurses who cared for me had screwed up on sterile technique when the chemotherapy killed off all my white blood cells. If they hadn’t made sure I got platelets and blood when I needed them in the middle of the night. If, if, if.
WHAT HAS CHANGED?
I’m back to work now, representing people who were hurt or lost a loved one due to malpractice. My time with leukemia has hopefully made me a better man. I am so much more grateful and appreciative for things and people now. I am going to live. My daughter says I am giving off “positive energy” all the time. I hope so. I hope it lasts.
People ask me if it feels wrong to pursue medical malpractice cases involving poor nursing care after the spectacular care that saved me. I don’t think so. I saw what can be done. I live because nurses did their jobs right.
What nurses do is too important not to have a deterrent to bad performance. The consequences of malpractice are too grave not to have an avenue to compensate those hurt by it. But know that nurses who do their best have nothing to fear from me or lawyers like me.
