If you need surgery and you live in Maine, get outta town! That's my advice after hearing what just happened to one of my closest friends. I'm not naming names, except for the hospital where this sordid story occurred, and that was at Maine Med as the locals call it, or Maine Medical Center if we are being formal.
Three days ago my friend, let's call her Jane Doe, went there at five in the morning for surgery to remove a cancerous tumor in her abdomen. She underwent the surgery and woke up in severe pain. Despite the boatload of pain meds she was given, Jane distinctly heard her surgeon say, "We got it" before drifting happily back to la-la land.
The following morning the same doc showed up with bad news: "Actually, we didn't get it." She said, you mean you didn't get it all? He said, "We didn't get any of it. We missed it. We removed a cyst that was benign. We'll have to go back in."
The next day Jane was wheeled into the OR for another opportunity to have her abdomen ripped open. This time they were going to "really get it!" and would use some sort of sonar equipment to be extra-sure. After recovering from a five-hour surgery, Jane woke up to good news: "Guess what, we never found any cancer. There was no tumor after all." But, but, but....
What about the biopsy? What about the Pet Scan? What made you think there was a tumor in the first place? Oh, they took pictures and a biopsy at the Dana Farber Cancer Institute, Brigham Center, the leading cancer center in New England and ranked #5 in the country, and they figured they knew what they were talking about.
The end? Maybe not.
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