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My 83-year-old father was totally independent, driving a stick-shift sports car, teaching computer classes, and sitting on his condo board. He would meet up with people of all ages and hold court at Starbucks 6 days per week. He helped me with my errands, showed up for brunch or dinner on Sundays, and texted me at least daily.In mid-August, I got a phone call from him. He is very hard of hearing, so he rarely calls and just texts. “I am having chest pain,” he said. “EMS is on their way.” I was shocked that my dad, who has never been admitted to a hospital even for his birth, was having a health problem. I was in New Jersey with my daughters and could not return until the next day. He said he had taken an aspirin and would stay in touch by text.Unfortunately, he was not sent to a Henry Ford Health System (HFHS) facility, a place where, after 32 years of employment, I could get all the assistance and support I needed, because I was family. He was sent to a good hospital, but not my hospital.He arrived a little after 9:00 p.m. on a Saturday night and was taken to the cardiac intensive care unit (CICU). I was able to speak with a cardiologist, who assured me he was stable and doing well. On Sunday morning, he would undergo cardiac catheterization, and a stent would be placed if needed. They would keep me posted.My dad was upbeat, engaged, talkative, and out of bed to use the bathroom. He continued to text me from his hospital bed, keeping me posted.On Sunday morning, the cardiologist reported that, after looking at the catheterization results, he chose to do a radial artery stent as opposed to …

The Health Care Maze: How We Treat Our Elderly: One Man’s Journey