Familiar Song, New Verse: Talk!

Well. This explains a lot: Florida's doctor discipline system not tough enough, critics say / Most cases dropped, few serious penalties imposed.

It's no secret in Florida that the Department of Health and the Florida Board of Medicine, in particular, are lax in regulating, policing and disciplining Florida's medical profession. Even though I've known this for years, reading this article makes my stomach churn. It makes me angry.

This isn't about a hair salon allowing unlicensed cosmetologists to cut hair in their shop. It's not about whether yacht and ship brokers and salespersons have a license to do business.

This is about physicians appropriately and accurately treating patients, and the State of Florida taking appropriate action when they don't. Treating patients -- people. Our children, our spouses, our parents, our siblings, ourselves.


Physicians are not infallible. But worse, some physicians aren't honest about their credentials or limitations.

We are so quick to openly and publicly pan a restaurant over lousy customer service. We tell our friends all about the hairstylist who left us looking like we went to a pet groomer. We will tweet all day long about how bad the in-air service is on a flight we're on.

But when it comes to telling someone about a bad -- or worse, harmful or life-threatening -- experience with a physician, dentist, nurse, anesthetist, or other health-care professional, so many of us tiptoe around the subject.

Even if Florida dismisses your complaint, you still have every right to talk to people about your experience. Especially if it jeopardized your life or the life of your child, or other loved one.

Bad restaurant service is temporary. Hair grows back. As long as you get safely from point A to point B, who cares if the flight attendant was rude or nice, or if the in-flight food was fabulous or foul? 

Physicians, dentists, nurses, anesthetists and other health-care professionals have the potential to improve your life or end it. If your health-care experience was a threat to your well-being or life, tell someone. Tell everyone.

When Doctors Fail

Adventures of a Funky Heart writer Steve Catoe posted a story I sent him over the weekend about a heart mom I know who lost her baby at 40 days old.

Michael should still be here. He would be 2, and this Sunday would have been his third Mother's Day.

One mom who read this post asked if there was anything she could do. There is: Tell every heart parent you meet and know to be sure their child is seen and evaluated by board-certified pediatric heart specialist. Trust your instincts. Ask questions. Expect answers. Don't tolerate ego. Demand to be part of your child's care and treatment. Advocate, advocate, advocate.

When Doctors Fail

Medical-Specialty Board Certification: It Matters

“Any doctor can deliver a baby, treat cancer, or declare himself a cardiologist. Certification means the doctor had special training in that field and passed an exam to prove knowledge of it.”

Six years ago, I would have said Associated Press writer Marilynn Marchione was exaggerating in her recent article, Doctors face board specialty 'expiration dates'.

Had my son never landed in the hands of a physician who “declared” himself a specialist, I might still think that way. But he did. So I don’t.

In a previous post about my son William’s heart murmur, I mentioned “the eight-month-long road to a correct diagnosis was ill-paved and rife with potholes.”

I’d like to explain now.

At William’s four-month well-baby checkup, his exam revealed The Heart Murmur. The pediatrician (whom we no longer see) referred my son to a specialist -– “a pediatric cardiologist,” the pediatrician said -– to evaluate the murmur.

If only I’d known then, what I know now: verify credentials yourself. You can’t rely on referring physicians. They might not have verified credentials. They might be assuming a specialist is certified. Or, the specialist might be so rooted in the community that everyone assumes he/she is a board-certified specialist.

You also can’t rely on advertising -- even though (in Florida anyway) claiming you’re board certified in an area you are not board certified in is against the law.

If I could do it again, my first stop would have been here, so that my second stop could have been with a real pediatric cardiologist. Despite what the pediatrician said, the local physician who sees pediatric heart patients is not this area’s “only option.”

Knowing what I know now, I'm not at all surprised this physician misdiagnosed my son. Not just once, but twice. This doctor is nothing more than a pediatrician who completed a pediatric cardiology fellowship ... 35 years ago. Since he's not board certified in pediatric cardiology, there's nothing to show he has pursued any continuing medical education (CME) in this area.

And there have been so many advances in CHD diagnosis, research and treatment over the past three-and-half decades, it hardly seems possible he could have stayed relevant without a lot of CME.

Physicians I love and trust implicitly have told me William’s congenital heart defect (Scimitar Syndrome) is not an easy one to diagnose -- implying I should cut the doctor some slack.

But if it's so hard to figure out, I ask them, then please explain how William’s eventual correct diagnosis was made by a mere pediatrician and pediatric radiologist? Neither of them specialize in, or have had concentrated study in pediatric cardiology.

Really, if not a pediatric cardiologist, then who is imminently qualified to diagnose congenital heart defects -- even those that are difficult to diagnose? If you're going to "declare" yourself a pediatric cardiologist, then you'd better well know what you're doing!

After William's diagnosis, we requested a referral to the University of Florida Congenital Heart Center -- one of this area's many options. The physicians there are extremely competent, very compassionate and ... board certified.

About 15 months after William's open-heart surgery, I filed a formal complaint with the Florida Department of Health. The complaint included misdiagnosis of condition and false advertising. However, DOH declared the physician had done nothing wrong. Nothing. Not even falsely advertising himself.

I also e-mailed the American Board of Pediatrics about the physician’s advertisements. Although the ABP can’t tell me what, if any, action it took, I noticed that about six weeks later, the physician no longer held himself out in advertisements as a board-certified pediatric cardiologist.

Marchione writes in her article, “The next time you’re at the doctor’s office, take a peek at those certificates hanging on the wall. Like gallons of milk, some of them are expiring.”

Better yet, make sure from the start they even have certificates.

The American Board of Pediatrics sponsors a campaign called “Certification Matters.”

And let me tell you: It. So. Does.