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They thought it was subtle.
They thought if they moved slowly enough, if they filtered her complaints through a clipboard and a condescending tone, no one would notice what they were really doing:
Starving her, suppressing her, and sending her deeper into failure — not with violence, but with indifference.
Nicole entered the ER at North Kansas City Hospital on August 30th, 2019.
Her liver enzymes were stable. She was tired, yes — bloated, yes — but still upright.
They placed her on an NPO without a gallbladder, withholding food and water for the first 37 hours of her initial hospitalization, instead of taking her off of Effexor, a known hepatotoxin. Then they lifted the NPO and resumed the very medication suspected of drug-induced liver injury (DILI) — without pause, without testing alternatives, without care.
The dam cracked.
Then came the ERCP.
Then the stent.
Then the bile.
Then the emboli.
Then the heart.
Then the adrenal tumor.
Then the silence.
Nicole didn’t collapse from mystery.
She collapsed from clinical apathy, stacked high and left to fester —
until her body finally screamed loud enough for everyone to hear…
…only to be told it was all in her head.
This wasn’t a single failure.
It was a cascade — triggered not by chaos, but by cowards in white coats afraid to admit when they were wrong.
“Why was food and water restricted instead of pausing hepatotoxic meds first? What diagnostic evidence supported NPO?”
The Patient is told "Sometimes these things just happen." By Dr Robert Evangelidis when she asked how her bile duct got backed up. She now has a medically relevant explanation.
Scene 1: The Admission (August 30 – September 7, 2019)
“It didn’t start with a scalpel. It started with a decision: ignore the signs, do the procedure, and then pretend none of it ever happened.”
Nicole was taken for an ERCP despite:
A biliary stent was placed — but was:
Shortly after the procedure, Nicole experienced two STAT events — both occurring in her hospital room, within hours of the ERCP.
The damage was done.
What happened next was the real surgery — to the truth.
After Nicole’s second STAT event that day, Nicole observed a cluster of white coats gathering outside her hospital room:
Shortly after that conference, a suspicious surge of documentation began.
🕰️ 17:20 — The Moment of Narrative Rebirth
Med Surg is a pre-op unit — she was well past that point.
This entry didn’t reflect reality. It rewrote it.
Her labs weren’t stable. Her symptoms were worsening.
Her heart had taken a hit. Her liver was inflamed.
But the white coats were ready to be done.
Earlier in the day, Nicole vomited a sludgy greenish/yellow bile into the sink. She reported it to her nurse. The response?
“Should have taken a picture.”
Later that day, Nicole passed a visibly abnormal, fatty marbled stool — a textbook sign of steatorrhea, common in liver dysfunction or bile duct injury.
So she took a picture.
Nicole didn’t just report symptoms — she captured them.
They didn’t just fail to notice — they chose not to look.
They let her walk out with a stent in her bile duct, emboli in her heart, an undiagnosed tumor on her adrenal gland, and an immune system already under siege.
On September 4, she took a photo of her own illness.
The hospital staff took nothing from it.
The admission ended.
The danger didn’t.
She returned two days after discharge, sicker, bleeding, and scared.
They knew what they were looking for — and it wasn’t what she was actually dying from.
She came back with bile in her throat, blood in her stool, and pain centered over her liver.
And they ordered a pelvic exam.
Only two days after her initial discharge, Nicole came back to the ER with new and worsening symptoms:
She was clearly deteriorating.
Something was bleeding.
Something was failing.
And she knew it.
Instead of investigating the organs screaming for help —
They aimed their attention anywhere but the liver or the heart.
Nicole was actively bleeding.
Both melena and hematochezia were documented.
And yet, they administered a medication that could worsen any legitimate GI hemorrhage.
The only reason to do that?
They already knew the bleeding wasn’t coming from the GI tract.
Nicole had suffered two embolic events on September 3 — both caught in her IVC after the ERCP.
But she was never told.
The records were manipulated.
The events were split across days and buried.
And yet…
Six days later, they gave her Lovenox.
Because they were afraid of another embolism.
Because they knew what had happened during the ERCP.
Because they were treating a clotting risk they never disclosed.
Nicole returned with blood in her stool.
They gave her Lovenox.
Not because they thought she was clotting — but because they already knew she had.
They just hadn’t told her.
The scan showed it all: a swollen liver, a strictured duct, and a new mass.
The radiologist saw it. Three providers read it.
None of them told Nicole.
Nicole underwent an MRCP ordered by Dr. Rusty Bergman due to persistent right upper quadrant pain, bile vomiting, and signs of active internal bleeding.
The scan showed:
The phrase “stable mild prominence” is a clinical impossibility.
The prior scan — an MRCP as well as a CT dated September 2 — showed no adrenal abnormality.
The mass did not exist just 8 days earlier.
So how could it be “stable”?
It couldn’t.
It was either:
And worst of all?
He left all of it out of the conclusion.
The conclusion — the one part most providers actually read — says only:
“Focal narrowing likely artifact. No choledocholithiasis.”
This scan was referenced by three separate providers:
Each of them:
Instead, all three focused on one line:
“The bile duct looks fine.”
The scan showed the truth:
A liver in distress. A bile duct pinched. A tumor newly formed.
And four providers saw it —
Three referenced it —
And none of them said a word.
She bled. They scoped. And the answer wasn’t in the gut.
The scopes were clean. The adrenal gland was not.
Ordered due to:
Documented melena and hematochezia
Positive fecal occult test
Ongoing pain, fatigue, and bile vomiting
In summary: no GI source for the blood.
The GI tract was officially cleared of blame.
And yet — Nicole was still bleeding.
Still symptomatic.
Still suffering.
The scopes proved:
A bleed with no source is not a mystery.
It’s a missed diagnosis waiting to be admitted.
What actually happened?
Nothing.
She was told the scopes were “reassuring” — as if normal results made her abnormal experience any less real.
The scopes were clean.
The bleeding continued.
And the tumor sat silently in the adrenal gland —
Visible for days, acknowledged by none.
Because when you don’t want to find the problem,
you stop looking where it lives.
She didn’t need an exit summary.
She needed a hepatologist, a cardiologist, and an endocrinologist.
Not one of these was addressed.
Nicole spent five more days in the hospital — deteriorating, pleading, and being passed around like a hot potato of liability.
From OB/GYN Dr. Sarah Newman’s note:
“Patient is tearful and frustrated today.
Feels as though no one is listening to her…
Concerned that there is some sort of organ damage that has been done.”
She was right.
She was living it.
And she was the first one willing to say it aloud.
Nicole was sent home with:
They closed her chart, not her case.
They knew she was sick.
They had proof on imaging.
They had evidence in labs.
They had documentation of visible bleeding, bile vomiting, and new mass formation.
They also knew they caused it.
So they did what institutions do best —
They discharged the danger.
Let the next doctor deal with it.
Or better yet — let the patient give up.
Nicole told them:
“I think I have major organ damage.”
They nodded. Smiled.
Handed her a discharge packet.
And walked away —
From the adrenal mass,
From the injured liver,
From the damage they never intended to fix.
On November 2, Nicole experienced a medical event so intense, it still echoes in memory.
That night, she became overheated—with no fever—and stepped into a lukewarm shower to cool down. The water felt like knives on her skin. A red welt quickly appeared on her right arm—circular, white-centered, and warm (101.1°F). What followed was catastrophic: sudden, full-body pain, spontaneous bruising on her upper arm and leg, and hypersensitivity so extreme that even hugs from her family were unbearable. The pain and bruising persisted for months.
This was not fibromyalgia.
This was not anxiety.
This was a systemic inflammatory storm—likely autoimmune, vasculitic, or toxin-induced. And yet it was never documented in the record.
Eleven days later, Dr. Sahar Safavi ordered an anti-smooth muscle antibody (ASMA) test—a targeted marker for autoimmune hepatitis (AIH). It returned positive at 1:160, a value that meets the diagnostic criteria threshold for autoimmune liver disease.
Instead of acknowledging its significance, Safavi dismissed the result based solely on a negative ANA, a test that is not required for diagnosing AIH and does not negate a positive ASMA. This was a critical diagnostic failure, and more than that—it was a pivot point.
Despite the positive ASMA and Nicole’s worsening symptoms, Dr. Safavi:
This wasn’t an accident. Valproic acid is among the most hepatotoxic drugs on the market. Nicole had clear signs of liver dysfunction, ongoing bile reflux, and now a confirmed autoimmune marker—and Safavi handed her a time bomb.
Nicole fell into a hepatic encephalopathic coma between December 5–8, unresponsive, non-verbal, and unable to safely ambulate. The event was never documented in her records, and no physician intervened.
If Dr. Safavi wasn’t pursuing liver disease,
why did she order autoimmune liver tests in the first place?
If this wasn’t intentional deflection, then it was clinical ignorance.
And if it wasn’t ignorance, then it was something worse.
There is no third option.
By the end of November, Nicole had a positive autoimmune marker, ongoing liver symptoms, bile reflux, and signs of systemic inflammation. Instead of escalating care, Dr. Safavi downplayed the findings, prescribed a known hepatotoxin, and rerouted Nicole’s care toward rheumatology.
What followed was both predictable and catastrophic: Nicole’s body shut down completely.
No one recorded it.
No one helped her.
And no one was held accountable.
🩺 December 9–18 — Evangelidis Returns, Truth Does Not
Nicole was readmitted to NKCH. She was pale, slurred in her speech, walking with a limp, and cognitively dulled. The attending? Dr. Robert Evangelidis — yes, again.
He knew her history. He had overseen her care during the initial collapse. And now, after a coma and a near-death episode, he said nothing.
Instead of addressing her liver or the catastrophic response to valproic acid, Evangelidis prescribed a 40mg dose of prednisone on December 17 — textbook treatment for autoimmune hepatitis. But he never acknowledged the diagnosis. Instead, Nicole was discharged the following day with a prednisone taper — and a new label: fibromyalgia.
🎯 Why This Matters:
The prednisone on December 17 was not subtle — it was standard for treating active autoimmune hepatitis.
But on December 18, Nicole was discharged without ever being told why she was given the steroid. That very afternoon, her nervous system responded: she developed a stutter — sudden, startling, and captured in a Facebook Live video recorded that evening.
Why then?
Because steroids don’t just suppress inflammation. They unmask it. The taper destabilized her already fragile hepatic and neurological systems, leading to a surge of neurological symptoms.
And still, no one looked back at the liver.
Before Evangelidis wrote the steroid order, Dr. Abdurahman Bouzid authored her official H&P (History & Physical). He mentioned ASMA but called her symptoms “non-specific.” He did not mention the coma. He did not ask about the valproic acid. His conclusion? “There is not enough to say what’s going on.”
His assessment ignored:
- A documented positive autoimmune marker (ASMA 1:160)
- A history of recent hepatic collapse
- Ongoing neurological symptoms including limping and slurred speech
Instead of investigating, Bouzid evaporated. He was never seen again.
That same day, Dr. James Trahan evaluated Nicole for “mood disturbance.” He diagnosed her with major depressive disorder, ignored the coma, and recommended antipsychotics and benzodiazepines. He called her defensive. He noted inconsistencies. He did not call a neurologist. He did not ask about hepatic encephalopathy.
His note became the pivot point — one that would be uploaded into KU’s system later under “Outside Labs” to keep the psychiatric framing alive.
Nicole was discharged on December 18. That very afternoon, she developed a stutter — abrupt, persistent, and caught on video. It had not been present before. It followed steroid treatment and weeks of hepatic instability. It was neurological. It was real.
No one investigated. The stutter was dismissed as “stress.”
Nicole’s father’s physician, Dr. James Maturo, entered the case. He saw her once. He signed off on the psychiatric interpretation, reinforcing the idea that Nicole’s symptoms were “functional.” He never referenced the coma. He never mentioned the ASMA. He never questioned the prednisone.
He closed the curtain on Act III.
To Dr. Evangelidis: If you weren’t treating autoimmune hepatitis, why prescribe prednisone?
To Dr. Bouzid: What happened to “I think I know what this is, but it’s rare”? Why didn’t you return?
To Dr. Trahan: When did a hepatic coma become a reason to prescribe antipsychotics?
To Dr. Maturo: Did you come to help the patient — or help the system close ranks?
Act III ended with a discharge.
But the collapse was still in progress.
Her coma? Never documented.
Her liver injury? Never addressed.
Her stutter? Labeled stress.
Her truth? Still screaming.
And still being ignored.
The damage had been done.
But that wasn’t enough.
Now came the edits, the omissions,
the shaping of a story no one would dare question—
until one person did.
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