Modina Waters v. VTR Hillcrest MC Tulsa, LLC

Let’s be honest: when you think “dangerous place to fall,” an underground carpeted tunnel beneath a medical complex probably doesn’t top your list. But for 78-year-old Modina Waters, it wasn’t just a hallway—it was a death slide disguised as healthcare infrastructure. One minute she’s dutifully pushing her husband’s wheelchair like any spouse might, the next she’s tumbling down a steep, carpeted incline like she’s in some bizarre medical-themed action movie. And now? She’s suing the entire Hillcrest healthcare machine for turning what should’ve been a routine doctor’s visit into a real-life Mission: Impossible stunt gone wrong.

Modina Waters wasn’t there for herself. She was at the Hillcrest Physicians Building on South Utica in Tulsa, Oklahoma, on September 15, 2023, playing the role so many spouses play—supportive partner, navigator of medical bureaucracy, and unofficial wheelchair chauffeur. Her husband, Mr. Waters (whose first name we don’t know, but whose mobility issues we do), had a urology appointment with Dr. Dae Yun Kim. Nothing too out of the ordinary—except, of course, that the appointment required blood work. And the lab? Oh, honey, it wasn’t down the hall. It was in another building. And the only way to get there? An underground tunnel. Not a charming, well-lit pedestrian passage with handrails and a gentle slope. No. This was a carpeted decline so steep it might’ve made a snowboarder pause. And it’s apparently just how Hillcrest rolls when you need to get from Point A (urology) to Point B (blood draw).

So Modina, bless her, pushes her husband’s wheelchair into this tunnel, probably thinking, “Well, if the hospital lets people use wheelchairs down here, it must be safe, right?” Spoiler: it was not. As they started down the incline, gravity took over. The wheelchair picked up speed. Modina tried to slow it. She gripped the handles. She fought the physics of it all. But then—slip—her hands flew off, and she went down hard while her husband, still in the runaway wheelchair, continued his solo descent like some rogue patient on a medical thrill ride. The filing doesn’t say whether he crashed, but honestly, at that point, you’d be forgiven for expecting a “Mission Accomplished” banner at the end of the tunnel.

Modina, meanwhile, was left with more than just embarrassment. She claims she suffered “serious personal injuries” — a phrase that sounds vague until you read the laundry list: past and future pain, permanent injury, disfigurement, mental anguish, medical bills, lost wages, and a diminished quality of life. In other words, this wasn’t just a bruised ego or a skinned knee. This was life-altering. And according to her lawyers, it didn’t have to happen. Not if the people in charge had done their damn jobs.

Which brings us to why we’re here: the lawsuit. Modina isn’t just mad. She’s legally mad. And she’s pointing fingers at two different entities, each with their own flavor of alleged screw-up. First up: VTR Hillcrest MC Tulsa, LLC, the owner of the premises. Her claim? Premises liability. Fancy term, simple idea: if you own a place, you’ve gotta keep it safe for visitors. And this tunnel? Allegedly not safe. Not only was it too steep, but it didn’t meet building codes. That’s the legal equivalent of serving expired milk at a daycare. And worse—Hillcrest knew people used wheelchairs. They knew patients and caregivers would be navigating this tunnel. Yet no warning signs. No handrails. No “Caution: Gravity Zone” decals. Just carpet, decline, and disaster waiting to happen. The lawsuit argues they had a duty to warn or fix it—and they did neither.

Then there’s the second defendant: AHS Hillcrest Healthcare System, LLC, the actual healthcare provider. Their sin? Negligence. Specifically, giving out wheelchairs like party favors without considering that someone might actually use them on a slope that defies basic physics. The argument here is simple: if you hand someone a wheelchair and send them toward a steep underground tunnel, you should maybe consider that it could go badly. Especially for an older couple. It’s not like Modina signed a waiver that said, “I understand that using hospital equipment may result in unintended rollercoaster experiences.” The healthcare system, the filing claims, failed to exercise “ordinary care”—which, in regular human terms, means they should’ve known better. They could’ve provided staff assistance. They could’ve rerouted patients. They could’ve, you know, not built a wheelchair death slide.

Now, what does Modina want? A cool $75,000—plus interest, attorney fees, and whatever else the court feels like tossing in. Is that a lot? Well, for a fall in a hospital tunnel? Depends. If we’re talking about a sprained wrist and a bad story, maybe overkill. But if we’re talking permanent injury, ongoing pain, medical bills, and the emotional trauma of watching your husband roll away from you like a rogue grocery cart—suddenly, $75k starts to look less like greed and more like survival. Especially when you’re on a fixed income, living on Social Security, and now facing a future where walking down a hallway feels like Russian roulette.

And here’s the kicker: Modina’s lawyers say she had zero fault in this. No contributory negligence. No “she should’ve known better.” Just a woman doing her best in a system that failed her. That’s a bold claim—courts usually find someone a little responsible—but it underscores how egregious they think this was. This wasn’t a “slip and fall” because the floor was wet. This was a preventable, foreseeable disaster in a place that’s supposed to heal people, not launch them down ramps like pinballs.

So what’s our take? Look, hospitals are stressful. Appointments are confusing. Buildings are spread out. We get it. But an underground tunnel that’s so steep it sends a senior citizen flying off a wheelchair? That’s not just bad design. That’s a slap in the face to basic safety. The most absurd part? That this tunnel exists at all—and that no one thought, “Hey, maybe we should test this with a wheelchair before letting patients use it?” It’s like they designed it for bobsledding, not blood work.

And honestly? We’re rooting for Modina. Not because we love lawsuits, but because accountability matters. If a hospital system is going to make patients and caregivers navigate a literal slope of doom, they better have a plan. And if they don’t? Then yeah, someone should pay. Not just in dollars, but in redesigned tunnels, better signage, and maybe—just maybe—a little humility.

Because at the end of the day, healthcare should heal. Not turn a routine appointment into a horror story with carpet burns.