I’m A Doctor Who Almost Died Because My Own Doctors Refused To Do This 1 Basic Thing

My day had started early that Friday. My wife, Joanne, and I arrived at 7 a.m. for my 10-year follow up colonoscopy with Dr. Smith. Although I had referred a number of my patients to his group, I hadn’t worked much with him or even met him. As the nurse was going through her checklist of tasks, she casually mentioned that he was retiring that day and a party was scheduled that evening. 

I was taken into the procedure room on time and 30 minutes later I woke up in the recovery room. 

“Dr. Mieczkowski, everything went well,” Dr. Smith told me. “I removed one large polyp and a few smaller ones, but none of them concern me. My office will let you know the results in a few days.” 

I thanked him and offered best wishes on his retirement, thinking that I would never see him again. I was relieved ― no signs of cancer.  

Joanne and I went home to eat lunch. Since I felt well, we drove to the office to do some paperwork. Around 2:45 p.m., I had an urgent need to use the bathroom and passed streaks of blood. I knew this was common after a colonoscopy, so I didn’t tell Joanne or call the doctor’s office. Fifteen minutes later, I felt more urgency and made another hurried trip to the bathroom.  There was more blood ― a lot more blood. 

“Oh shit! Damn it,” I said out loud. 

I told Joanne what was going on, and she asked, “Do you want me to call the EMTs? Are you feeling faint?” We decided to drive ourselves to a hospital only a few miles away. I called the physician’s office with an update while we were on our way. 

Upon arrival, I was relieved to see that the waiting room was empty. I checked in at the desk and a few minutes later, a nurse opened the door. “Dr. Mieczkowski? Come on back,” she told me. 

I made it. I’m going to be all right, I thought. I took a deep breath of relief as Joanne and I walked through the door and were led to my room. The nurse did the usual check-in tasks, connected me to the monitor tracking my heart rate and blood pressure, put an IV in my arm, and drew blood for testing. 

“No running fluids?” I questioned. “That’ll be up to the doctor after he sees you,” she replied. As she finished, I felt an urgent need to move my bowels and requested a bedside commode. I quickly passed several pints of blood, which nearly filled the container. I had just lost nearly 20% of my blood volume. I was  stunned and knew that I was in trouble.

“So, you’re Dr. Mieczkowski,” Dr. Woods, the ER doctor, said sarcastically as he walked in. Great! Here we go, I thought. “Yup, that’s me,” I replied, trying to reduce the tension. I pointed out the blood in the commode, but Dr. Woods didn’t seem impressed.

While taking my medical history and doing a brief exam, he was constantly looking up at the monitor, which showed a heart rate of 62 and a normal blood pressure. (Typically, a person’s heart rate goes up to compensate for blood loss.) He commented on the low heart rate as an indication that I was stable. I was puzzled. “Dr. Woods, I’m on a high dose of a beta blocker for my blood pressure,” I told him. “My heart rate is always around 50 and never gets above 80.” It didn’t alter his thinking. I asked whether he was going to start running IV fluids and order blood transfusions. “You look pretty stable,” he answered. “I think we can hold off for now until the labs come back. We’ll see how it goes.”

I was dumbfounded. I had 40 years of experience. If I saw that amount of blood loss in a 62-year-old male with heart disease on aspirin ― a potent blood thinner ― I would have called for an immediate GI (gastrointestinal) consult, started IV fluids, and ordered blood to be ready for transfusion. Unfortunately, he jumped to a conclusion that my bleeding couldn’t be serious since my heart rate was low.  He was running the show and damned if he was going to listen to me. 

I continued to pass a large amount of blood every 20-30 minutes. Since the blood-filled commode had not been emptied, I used the bathroom across the hall. I was not thinking clearly at this point and failed to note the blood loss was not being measured. I always ordered nurses to monitor a patient’s blood loss and urine output. I became weaker and paler with each episode, and I began to worry that I was going to bleed out. I held back on sharing my fears with Joanne.