Even Though I Share In The Blame, This Is Exactly Why I Hate Doctors

So, in my last post, Karen was being prepped for surgery. We had left for the hospital at 2pm, and on the way out the door, literally as we were walking down the steps to the car, the surgeon's office called to say that we had the only copy of the MRI, and could we bring it along. We frantically ran back in the house and got the MRI, the wrong MRI it would turn out. After all the prep work had been done, the surgeon appeared, took the CD and returned to say it was the wrong one. I told him that we just lived across the street from the hospital and I would run get the right one. He said, "Okay," and I did. As I raced back to the hospital, they called to say the surgery was cancelled. I told them I was almost there, and they said that they'd go ahead, then.
I gave the disk to the person at the surgical reception and went home to wait for Karen's operation to be finished. Except they called to ask why I hadn't come to get her since the surgery was canceled. I told them I didn't know the surgery had been canceled. I came back to the hospital and found out that before he'd even told me that I'd brought the wrong disk, the surgeon had told them to tear down the operating room.
So, okay, I brought the wrong disk. But they might have told me that they needed it before I was scheduled to arrive at the hospital, maybe even days or weeks in advance, they might have ordered it from Providence,  and failing that, they might have spared me the frenzied rocketing back and forth if they'd already canceled the surgery.
 I've taken off four of the ten days of sick leave that I can use in a year to take care of Karen. I had planned on going back to work tomorrow while Karen was in the hospital, and then having her come home next week better able to be alone.  Now I don't know if I should go back to work, or stay home and hope that this all works out early next week, or just seethe until I make myself sick. That last might be the best plan because I have more than a year of sick leave accrued that I can use on myself.