Blazing flames burn houses and entire towns to ashes.
Unemployment strikes in the midst of student loans, credit card debts, and medical expenses.
Life-altering car accidents cause paralysis in an aspiring athlete.
Husbands are sent overseas to fight gory wars.
The sting of child loss eternally pains a young mother.
Naturally, our hearts go out to victims in such cases, but it doesn't feel real until experienced first-hand.
This is my mom's story.
This tale starts in the early 80's, when my mom developed severe scoliosis after breaking her hip at age 13. Her body did not exactly heal appropriately, causing curvature of the spine. Things escalated with time, and when I was 7 months old, she had a spinal fusion surgery at Swedish Hospital in Seattle, WA. The procedure went well and she was able to move forward in life.
Despite the high pain levels from the intense curvature above the spinal fusion, everything was fine for nearly 12 years: she was incredibly active and genuinely happy. She home-schooled my siblings and me, trained for a half-marathon, taught Pilates, rock climbed, hiked, and faithfully held volunteer leadership callings in our church.
But, in July 2011, the old hardware in her spine suddenly collapsed, leaving her unable to stand without passing out due to pinched nerves. A few days later, she had an emergency spinal reconstruction surgery to repair the damage before permanent paralysis occurred.
At the time, I thought there were two possible endings to the emergency procedure: one, everything would go smoothly and she'd be up and going in a few month's time. The surgeon, Thomas, said she would be running marathons and rock climbing the summer after her recovery. Or, something tragic would happen and she wouldn't pull through. This second ending almost became reality: during the duration of the first surgery, her heart stopped and they fought to resuscitate her. We were told that she probably wouldn't make it alive, let alone not paralyzed.
To be perfectly honest with you, saying goodbye before she went into the operating room was the hardest thing I've ever done. Words can never express the terror and heart ache I felt that night, knowing life would never be the same, no matter what happened.
Back to the surgery...It did not go as planned.
Thankfully, my mother survived. However, the surgery was incredibly botched. She was confined to a wheelchair for over a year, and suffered from depression with no hope of improvement. She endured more physical pain than she ever thought possible. The rods were implanted in her spine all the way up to her shoulder blade area. Her spine was rotated (twisted), from scoliosis, and the rods were implanted without correcting that rotation. The rods now force her into a painful posture with her spine twisted to the right, while being forced to lean left, and also with a forward lean. She is unable to stand up straight and severe nerve damage has occurred, causing her to pass out regularly with no prior warnings or signals.
Why, you might ask, did the operation take a turn for the worse? Let me tell you.
The surgeon, Dr. Michael Thomas, botched the surgery due to impairment. After a six month span of misconduct on Thomas' part (which included when my mom underwent surgery), the Yakima Herald Republic released an article titled, State Charges Yakima Surgeon with Misconduct. It states, "State medical regulators have charged a Yakima neurosurgeon with unprofessional conduct for allegedly performing surgery while he was impaired and abusing narcotic painkillers."
Records show that, over a four-month period in 2011, he filled prescriptions for more than 1,200 narcotic pills for himself. (Once again, during the time of my mom's surgery.) Then, from November 2011 to March 2012, the state alleges that he filled prescriptions for over 2,000 narcotic pills.
The Department of Health Board of Osteopathic Medicine and Surgery have also released statements of charges against Thomas. They alleged that Regional, "should have known that Thomas had become impaired yet negligently failed to cancel or restrict his privileges."
In March 2012, Thomas reported to an inpatient treatment center for medical providers with addiction problems, but continued on his downward spiral after completing the outpatient program.
He lost his rights to perform surgery at that hospital for a bit over a year, but has somehow managed to legally practice again. I don't understand how he is still in practice, both for legal and moral reasons. He has botched many surgeries in the last few years and has messed up the lives of many individuals and their families. He clearly hasn't learned his lesson. This man needs to be stopped. Now.
People make bad decisions, and those bad decisions have consequences. The repercussions of one man's string of bad decisions have forever altered my life and my family's lives. He has taken so much away from us, yet he doesn't even know I exist. How is that okay?? It's not.
The anger and hatred I feel towards him is like a large splinter, wedged under layers of skin, left to fester and become infected with time. While time may heal some wounds, it made this one even worse. Once I realized that I didn't want that splinter to become progressively worse, I committed to giving my best efforts to forgive him.
I spent over 2 years fighting: fighting to move on, fighting to move past what he'd done, to let go and have grace. A few months ago, I finally hit the point in my life where I almost felt at peace with his actions. The anger no longer controlled me.
Then, reality hit hard when my mom was scheduled for an extensive, risky reconstructive surgery in St. Louis, Missouri. Another surgery, this time to fix what Thomas screwed up.
All of that anger and hatred and pain shot back in seconds, much worse than it had been in years past. At first, I didn't want to let go of the anger. I didn't want to forgive him and let him get away free, without the punishment he deserved. I wanted to hang on to the pain he placed in my soul, because it was familiar and easier that way.
Today I'm a few baby steps closer to forgiving him than I was yesterday. I am not ready to let it go entirely, but at least my state of mind is starting to shift. I'll admit, it's a constant battle within myself, and right now, as my mom's across the country in surgery, I'm losing. But I know I won't lose forever. I'll get better every day and eventually I'll triumph over this hatred that's been growing inside of me, killing my spirit from the inside-out.
I will win. Someday.
That day may not be today, but it's coming. I know that day is just beyond the horizon because I want it to be there. I'm ready to spread the warmth and peace of forgiveness into the deepest, darkest parts of my soul.
That's my story.
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