A Comedy of Errors at HonorHealth’s Scottsdale-Shea Hospital

Preamble

“Knee replacements are routine these days. Like dentists’ implants. Easy-peasy.”

Everybody knows that, right?

Yet I have been a knee-sceptic for the last quarter century.

After reading this story about my knee replacement surgery, you may also change your mind.

Surgeon Hunt

The first surgeon I checked out a year ago, Dr Bernard Kaper, had supposedly performed over 2,000 knee replacement operations.

Maybe that’s why he came across quite arrogantly when we met. I also did not like the idea of my knee being just another sardine in a high-volume canning factory.

So earlier this year, I contacted another Scottsdale orthopedic surgeon – Dr Frank Moussa, on a recommendation by my primary care doctor.

He did not project much of a “bedside manner.” Seemed rather aloof during our first meeting. As if of he’d rather be someplace else. Maybe on a hot date. And I was the only thing standing between the two.

But Moussa had a rating of 4.6 out of 5 stars based on hundreds of reviews in various medical sources. So I decded to take aplunce a d booked my surgery for December 8.

My Knee History

In late 1990s, I lived in the shadows of the Camelback Mountain in Phoenix, and regularly hiked this popular tourist destination. One day in the spring of 2000, I was coming down the mountain when my left foot slipped over a thin layer of dust which was covering a big rock.

I heard a pop, followed by a sharp pain. I also felt numbness in my left leg. But I was only half way down the mountain. So willy-nilly I had to hobble on on that injured leg.

A few weeks later, Dr Paul Steingard, the Phoenix Suns’ surgeon for 23 years, repaired my torn cartilage.

The knee never did heal properly. So five years later another famous sports surgeon, Dr David Zeman, the first Arizona Diamondbacks baseball team doctor, did the same repair. With the same result. Zero improvement.

That was 20 years ago.

Subsequent visits to orthopedic surgeons revealed that my left knee cartilage had completely worn out. So I was walking bone-on-bone for two decade.

Until the pain got bad enough for me to have a knee replacement surgery.

“Routine” Surgery Turns to Painful Chaos

December 9, 2025 – After about 30 hours spent at the HonorHealth Scottsdale-Shea hospital, I arrived home this afternoon drained and exhausted, both mentally and physically. And in severe pain. Even when using a walker.

Knee replacements only look painless in medical videos. In my case, a tragicomedy of human errors had compounded the suffering manyfold.

First, a two-person anesthetist team had explained to me in the pre-op room that I would get a triple hit: Regional (Spinal/Epidural) (numbing lower body, kind of what women get before birthing), General (fully asleep), and Peripheral Nerve Blocks (for longer post-op pain relief). The latter is given straight into the knee nerve after the patient is already asleep.

“Wonderful,” I thought. “I’ll be in happy neverland the whole time.”

And I was. Until about six hours after the surgery when I realized I had not urinated for over 10 hours. And had no urge to. Since I have an enlarged prostate and normally have to go every two-three hours, I was starting to get alarmed.

WIth the help of the daytime nurse (Serina), I had dragged myself on a walker painfully to the bathroom.

No sensation whatsover in my bladder. Not a drop came out.

Alos, my left leg was still mostly numb. I figured that all those anesthesia hits, especially the last one straight to the knee nerve, must have dulled all sensations in my lower tract. Including the urge to urinate.

Twety years ago, I had a very painful experience 20 years ago, when I arrived in Mumbai, India, after a 10-hour flight from London. Blocked bladder. I thought I was going to die. Eventually, my hotel management took me to a local hospital where the doctors inserted a catheter and drained the urin.

The hospital was awful but the doctors were wonderful. A silver lining in a painful episode.

Modern Hospital, Incompetent Staff

Back in Scottsdale, I was about to have the opposite experience. A modern hospital and incompetent staff.

I demanded that the nurse let me talk to Dr Khouri, the resident doctor. He had stuck his head in my room in early afternoon, introduced himself, wrote down his name on the board, and said I should call him anytime if there was a problem.

Alas, he did not write down his phone number. So I called Serina, the nurse, I asked that she contact him and let me speak to him.

“I do not have his number,” she said.

The nurse did not have the number of the duty doctor!?

Welcome to HonorHealth Scottsdale Shea hospital where the left hand doesn’t seem to know what the right hand is doing.

“I con’t care how you do it,” I said. “Just get the doctor to call me urgently.”

For the first time in my life, I was worried because I didn’t have any pain.

“Have you talked to Dr Khoury?” I ask.

“He said to give you a Flomax.”

“And you didn’t think to let me know that? I had to call you again?”

Shrug.

“Besides, Flomax isn’t going to do anything at this point,” I explained.

Flomax is a medication that’s supposed to shrink the prostate. I had been taking it ever since that India incident two decades ago. But it does not work right away. A d we don’t have the luxury of time.

“I can’t believe how lackadaisical both you and your duty doctor are,” said to the nurse. “Don’t you understand that my bladder could burst? People die from that.”

Another shrug.

Here I was, a writer, a musician, an engineer… having to teach medicine to the HonorHealth staff.

“Get a catheter and empty my bladder,” I demanded in no uncertain tone. “We don’t have any time to waste while you all dilly-dally around.”

She went out. Another long wait. Did they have to get the catheter from another hospital?

About an hour later, Serina and another nurse finally arrived with a catheter. They fussed and fumed for about 15 minutes as if they were seeing it for the first time.

“Hope you’ve done this before?” I asked Serina.

She offered an uncertain nod.

Finally, they were able to insert the catheter and start draining the bladder.

It took forever. And no wonder.

“How many milligrams was it?”

“450ml,” Serina replied.

“OMG,” I said.

So we did it in the nick of time.

The bladder capacity of a grown up male is 300-500 ml. So my bladder was at 100% capacity.

I shuddered to think what would have happened if I had not intervened and demanded action by the phlegmatic and incompetent HonorHealth staff.

Epilogue 1 – December 8, 2025

After midnight, six hours later, I was finally able to urinate on my own. With blood in my urine. The two nurses had obviously damaged something while jamming the catheter through my penis.

But the crisis was averted. And the nighttime nurse – Alexa – was great. Like night and day compared to Serina.

So the daytime nurse epitomized darkness, while thebnighttime nurse the daylight.

BTW – Dr Khoury, the hospital duty physiscian, never showed up nor called me back.

Epilogue 2 – December 9, 2025

Injury after Surgery

My spirit sagged when I saw that the same incompetent nurse – Serina – would be again my daytime nurse on December 9. My fears were well grounded.

Dr Khoury had said that I should be discharged by 11 or so. At 2pm, my wife and I were still waiting for Serina to finish her paperwork.

Then she had to remove the heavy bandages from my knee and replace them with a long waterproof sticky bandage.

“And what about this?” I asked her as she had alr4qdy started to pack up her stuff, completely ignoring a smaller white bandage on my thigh, about six inches above the knee incision.

Serina acted as if she didn’t see it.

“What’s this?” I repeated.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Take off the bandage so we can see it,” I said.

“Take off this dressing so we can see it,” I said.

Obviously, this is something that must have happened during or after surgery. So I called Dr Moussa immediately. After a considerable wait, Myra, Dr Moussa’s MA (Medical Assistan), answered the phone. I explained what had happened and asked to speak with Dr Moussa.

She asked to see a photo. Serina sent it to her via the hospital computer system.

“Just a moment,” Myra then said, and put me on an interminable hold.

When she came back, she said she had spoken to Dr Moussa.

“He does not know anything about that,” Myra said. “But we will investigate to see what actually happened.”

“And I want you to let me know what you find out,” I said.

I looked at my wife. She was shaking her head in disbelief as I was.

“Accidents can happen,” I said. “I understand that. But to give a patient a post-surgical gash about 1.5″ long, and not to report it to anyone, including the surgeon responsible for the operation, should be a cause for immediate dismissal,” I said.

And perhaps a lawsuit against the hospital.

Meanwhile, this led to another delay in my discharge. We had to wait for a “wound nurse” to check out the gash and to redress it. When she eventually arrived almost another later, this nurse was very nice and professional.

Another ray of sunshine in HonorHealth’s mostly dark Shea hospital.

We left the hospital around 3:30pm. I was in extreme pain because my meds had run out while everybody was fussing with this and that. And they would not give me a pill “for the road.” My wife had to go to a pharmacy to get it. Alas, another couple of hours had passed by then.

Bottom line?

HonorHealth Scottsdale Shea hospital?

I share this experience not to assign blame, but to insist on accountability.

HonorHealth presents itself as a modern, patient-centered institution. My experience suggests gaps in coordination, communication, and basic post-operative care that deserve serious internal review — especially for patients without the knowledge, stamina, or voice to advocate for themselves.

I am recovering at home. Others may not be as fortunate.

_____________

PS: Great Food

One of the pleasant surprises about the Scottsdale Shea hospital is its food. Take a look at this menu. Like a five-star restaurant.

A patient can order the food from this menu any time during the day, between 6am and 9pm. And the food is not only plentiful it is tasty.

As we were leaving, I joked with my wife that maybe I should take her out to dinner at this hospital.

😂🍔🥗