So I go to the urologist’s office this morning. I make it a point to get there early because I know that as a new patient, I’ll have some extra paperwork to fill out with my medical history and insurance information and stuff. The Wife took the day off work to go with me and support me, which I thought was a really nice thing for her to do.
I fill out the forms. Standard stuff — who’s your insurer, what’s the plan number, the group number, are you the primary insured, do you have a family medical history that includes cancer, high blood pressure, stuff like that. A lot of questions about how often I wake up to urinate in the night when I’m sleeping, but then again, this is a urologist so that’s his particular area of interest.
The last form that I’m asked to sign is an arbitration agreement. I’m being asked to waive my right to a jury in the event that I have to sue my urologist for medical malpractice. I do not sign the form and I return the other paperwork to the assistant.
She flips through my paperwork and frowns. “I see you didn’t sign all the forms.”
“That’s right. The last form is a mandatory arbitration agreement, and I don’t agree to that.”
“Well, if you don’t sign the form, the doctor won’t treat you.”
“I see.” I hesitate for just a second. I wonder, what exactly wrong with this urologist that he can’t get professional practice insurance without having that waiver in place for all his patients? Having asked the question, I then realized that the answer was irrelevant. “Well, I guess we’re done here, then.” And I left.
The Wife was a little taken aback by this, but after we talked about it for a minute, she realized what was going on. She pointed out that a lot of people probably sign that form, not really understanding what it said or what effect it would have on them. I told her to never sign such a form herself, and to mention to whatever doctors she gets treatment from that her husband is a lawyer. There’s a reason lawyers get good treatment from doctors — we know what our rights are.
It’s not so much that I distrust the doctor as the fact that we’re talking about surgery on my junk here. I don’t think anything is likely to go wrong. I’m sure the doctor is adequately trained and educated to do a routine procedure like this. But if mine is the one in ten thousand where something bad does happen, I want to have my rights. And as a lawyer, I know perfectly well that arbitrators do not award verdicts of anything approaching the size of juries. So I know that an agreement to arbitrate is, effectively, an agreement to limit my recovery if (may Providence forbid it from coming to pass) something should go wrong and I lose sexual function or urinary ability or the vasectomy fails to actually sterilize me and I impregnate my wife despite the procedure.
There are other urologists out there. I don’t have to take my business to this guy, and I’m confident that I’ll find someone competent who will perform a vasectomy on me without requiring such a waiver. (Maybe that confidence is misplaced; perhaps lots of doctors now require this.) It’s a delay and an inconvenience, but giving up my Constitutional right to a jury trial if I need it is a higher price than I’m willing to pay for what is, ultimately, an optional medical procedure.
