I first experienced chest pain and shortness of breath when my wife and I were vacationing in London several years ago. An ambulance took me to University College Hospital, where, after routine tests, I was told I suffered from indigestion and should return to my hotel and take antacids. The next day, I was barely able to walk back to our hotel from a nearby museum, and was whisked again to the same hospital.
This time, after additional tests, a cardiac condition just short of a heart attack was diagnosed. I was entrusted to the National Health Care program of the United Kingdom — a system that many Americans would have us emulate. I was treated well, if somewhat indifferently. And, as I lay in my bed, no longer able so much as to sit up, I was told that several people were ahead of me for treatment, and that I could be attended to in about three weeks.
Considering the speed of my decline, it appeared to my wife and me that I would probably be dead in another day or two.
Our alternative, we were advised, would be for me to transfer to a Harley Street private cardiac facility and have angioplasty performed the next day to open my clogged arteries. This would involve $19,000 cash, in addition to the several thousand dollars I had run up at the hospital. My wife was able to persuade Citicorp to extend our line of credit so we could charge the procedure.
After a week’s recuperation, I returned to Denver, where I told my primary care physician that I still suffered some pain. An ambulance sped me to Saint Joseph Hospital for an angiogram. We were relieved that my coronary arteries seemed clear, but a thallium stress treadmill test was recommended when my condition worsened. Then, another angiogram. The result: I was advised to go home and take antacids for acid reflux disease.
Certain that my persistent chest pain was not acid reflux, and on the advice of a friend who is a retired surgeon, I requested copies of all my test results, intending to seek a second opinion from my London cardiologist. That led my HMO to offer to perform a third catheterization — this time using ultrasound imaging. That revealed the cause of my incessant pain: blockages in three major arteries — one of which is called “the widow-maker.” I underwent a triple cardiac artery bypass operation a few days later.
Even with the finest, most expert and up-to-date medical evaluations, my experience suggests that we must take responsibility for our own health care needs — and complain loudly and persistently when we think we are being brushed off with superficial diagnoses.
Our very survival may be up to us.
Stuart Clark Rogers (srogers@du.edu) of Highlands Ranch is retired clinical professor of marketing at the University of Denver.
To send a letter to the editor about this article, submit or check out our for how to submit by e-mail or mail.
