My son was born at the newly opened Centegra Hospital Huntley on November 15, 2016. In terms of labor and delivery, my wife’s was a breeze, delivering a healthy baby with a 9.9 apgar. Little did we know the true labor wouldn’t begin until after his birth.
I’ve had a professional media relationship with Centegra for almost ten years, either reporting on their various advancements/events (primarily their efforts to open a hospital in Huntley) or working with them on an advertising level, as they were once a Sun Day client (their advertising has since been ejected from the Sun Day). In that time, I’ve learned that Centegra is really good at marketing.
And they have an excellent rally cry.
Whether they’re promoting various services or trying to raise public support for a new hospital, Centegra knows how to appeal to the masses. But based on my family’s experience with their healthcare system, that rah-rah attitude ended at the door.
According to several Centegra staff members (all will remain nameless to maintain anonymity), patient satisfaction is supposed to be paramount inside the organization. And while I’m sure this is the message Centegra instills into its staff, my experience is that it is not held in high esteem. Read on and decide for yourself if this experience is evidence of patient satisfaction being paramount within the Centegra organization.
About eighteen hours after my son’s birth, he was admitted to CH-H’s NICU for failure to maintain blood sugar levels, a common problem for babies with low birth weight (my son was 5 lbs 10 ozs).
In an attempt to boost his blood-sugar level, he was given a shot of Dextrose. However, the two nurses who administered it injected him with approximately ten times the prescribed amount, sending his blood-sugar level from below 22 to above 250 in a couple minutes.
According to the American Diabetes Association, a blood-sugar level of above 250 in a newborn is considered dangerously high and requires medical attention.
Centegra’s poor medical judgment continued to escalate when approximately 24 hours later, their neonatologist suggested an emergency transport for our son to Rockford Memorial Hospital’s Level 3 NICU for swelling in his right thigh. The neonatologist identified the swelling as a possible infection, blood clot (both possibly life-threatening), or bone fracture.
Upon his arrival at RMH and after a quick X-ray, the swelling was diagnosed by an RMH neonatologist as a simple hematoma. It was explained to us that our son exhibited no signs of infection or blood clot. CH-H’s neonatologist never suggested that the swelling in our son’s thigh could have been caused by a hematoma, a diagnosis that would have altered our decision to authorize our son’s transfer.
My son was released within four days from RMH’s NICU—blood sugar stable, leg on the mend. We were overjoyed to have him home and thought we could move forward with the start of our family. We wanted to put the experience behind us.
Then came the medical bills.
I’ll skip the insurance component of this column because that’s another story completely, filled with the usual policy loopholes and coverage that was never realized.
Given Centegra’s part in this matter, my wife and I felt they owed us assistance in managing the monetary ramifications. At the very least we were severely disappointed with the service they provided and wanted our money back, which is a valid request. What follows is a bulleted list of how that went.
• December 22, 2016: I met with CH-H’s assistant director and director of women’s services to discuss our son’s treatment. There, I requested (in writing) financial compensation and various cost reimbursements. I was informed the request would be passed to Centegra’s risk management department.
• Followed up by email on December 28, 2016, with assistant director of women’s services because I hadn’t heard back from the risk management department. Was informed the request was under review.
• Followed up with risk management department directly on January 5, 2017, after receiving no word.
• January 10, 2017: received reply from director of risk & regulatory matters, denying reimbursement or compensation, claiming, “…we believe the care provided to your wife and child were reasonable.” Let’s read that again: “…we believe the care provided to your wife and child were reasonable.” Perhaps Centegra would argue that shooting my son off to a Level 3 NICU was taking the utmost precautions (I call it overzealous), so let’s give them that. But an overdose is reasonable care? At the very least this is clumsy writing.
• We were also informed, by the director of risk & regulatory matters, “I am in the process of providing you a detailed response so that you understand our position.”
• Email followup with director of risk & regulatory matters on February 5, 2017, after not receiving the “detailed response” mentioned above. Followup went unanswered.
• Second email followup with director of risk & regulatory matters on February 9, 2017, for the “detailed response.” Followup again went unanswered.
• To date, we still have not received their “detailed response.”
• March was spent dealing with our insurance company, during which we found out from a Centegra care coordinator that my wife’s insurance company was not called to find out if Rockford Memorial Hospital fell within her coverage area, which apparently is a norm (to not verify coverage area) in cases where a newborn undergoes emergency transport, at least this is what we were told. Again, it was later discovered this “emergency” was for a completely non-life threatening hematoma.
• April 4, 2017: sent an email to Centegra CEO Michael Eesley, requesting a meeting to discuss our experiences.
• April 19, 2017: resent an email to Mr. Eesley’s office after learning I may have had an incorrect email. Still, I requested a meeting. Email went unanswered.
• April 25, 2017: followed up with Mr. Eesley’s office on request to meet. Email went unanswered.
• At the time of writing this (April 30, 2017), I still have not heard from Mr. Eesley’s office.
Throughout this ordeal, I’ve come to learn that unless a hospital maims or kills a patient, there is little to no recourse he or she may take in seeking compensation. My wife and I have filed a complaint with the Illinois Department of Public Health, but they were unable to offer aid. We’ve spoken with a couple lawyers, one of which said it would be unethical for his office to seek compensation on our behalf from Centegra, as the pursuit would be “unethical.” So a hospital can overdose a newborn, and it’s unethical to seek compensation? That’s “bassakwards.”
The one thing I will thank Centegra for is teaching me right out of the gates just how much I love my son. In the time he was in the NICUs, I realized that any fear I’ve experienced in my life to that point was trivial by comparison to the fear I felt for my son. Fear for one’s self is an active, frenzied fear—an animal trashing in a cage. The fear you experience over the wellbeing of your child is so profound it has the ability to change the adjective “afraid” into not just a noun but a proper noun, until you as the parent no longer exist and all you are IS afraid. That fear is quiet and possesses every fiber of you until there is nothing left of you but fear.
Thank you, Centegra, for teaching me that.
(Editor’s note: All details provided here in regards to my son’s care or our communication with Centegra are verifiable through my son’s medical records, date-stamped emails, and/or phone logs.)
