Jeanne Hamilton

I have been asked to put a face on infections acquired in the health care community.

My father lived at Duncaster in Bloomfield. He had just turned 91 when he died.

On May 5, 2002 my father had cataract surgery. It was "butchered" (a quote from his third doctor), causing loss of vision in one eye and his depth perception. He had to have a second eye surgery a week later to relieve the blood clot left in the eye, a result of the first surgery. Needless to say "we" went to a new doctor.

Eight long, painful weeks after the first surgery he was improving enough to get ready to have a third surgery to aid his vision, hopefully. Dad was old, with his share of medical problems, but he exercised every day and did the crossword puzzle in ink daily. We were planning a cruise. It never occurred to either of us that a four-inch cut would cause my father's death.

On July 17 he fell while getting up to answer the phone and hit the back of his head on the dishwasher. The wound was tended to by the nursing staff at Duncaster while waiting for the ambulance to take him to the hospital for stitches.

We arrived at the ER and were put into a room immediately. The ER doctors wanted to rule out clots, stroke, concussion, etc. before stitching him up. His lungs were clear, no problems and no sign of infection in a urinalysis. It was a simple fall. Five hours later a doc put in 5 staples without anesthesia. That was excruciating for my father.

The hospital wanted to keep him overnight to "rule things out". The overnight lasted 4 days. During that time he became dehydrated and needed oxygen.

He was released July 21, on portable oxygen, to the nursing facility at Duncaster. For 12 hours he was unable to receive enough oxygen without a tube. He was hallucinating and restless. I sat up with him all night.

"We" returned to the hospital via ambulance in the morning. The care in the ER was fantastic. He was incubated, of his own choice. Staph infection was confirmed. He was in the ICU for 7 days. Each day we had hope and each day his condition worsened. The wound was the sight of the infection. The staples were removed, cleaned up and stitched. The ICU doctor, who was wonderful, asked to speak with me, alone, on July 28. I knew, before he said a word, it was time to let my father go. Pop had had enough.

I waited until my sister arrived from Massachusetts the next day and I gave the orders to "pull the plug." It was about noon. He was non-communicative but a bit responsive. Each time we saw his heart rate going down one of us would whisper something to him and back he'd come. There was a big part of us that thought he would surprise us and "snap out of it." Pop hung on for over four hours.

The death certificate and medical records state that cause of death was heart failure. The real cause of death was a massive staph infection that his body and every antibiotic in the book couldn't fight.

The original eye doctor no longer practices in Connecticut. But don't worry about him; he is an expert witness for hire.

My father's name should not matter. But it does to me and might be of interest to you. My father was T. Stewart Hamilton, MD.

Among his many accomplishments:

He was a medical doctor and hospital administrator.

During his tenure, his hospital was one of the top 10 in the country.

He was elected president of CT. Hospital Association and a Distinguished Service Award here has been named for him.

He was elected president of NE Hosp. Assembly, American Hospital Association and received Distinguished Service Awards both of those groups.

He received 4 Honorary Degrees.

He was inducted into The Health Care Hall of Fame at the age of 88.

His handling of the tragic Hartford Hospital fire in 1961 helped change fire safety laws and regulations throughout the country.His hospital received the first Medicare check issued because of his input into the passage of that bill.

My father spent his life trying to better health care in this country and
abroad. If his death can help improve health care and patient safety;
that may be the final piece of his legacy.