I've been thinking about the disrespect I and a lot of my friends have been treated to by medical workers. Why are they doing this to us? It's not even a selective disrespect. It seems that ALL patients are equally treated like dirt. Unless you are in medical care you are unworthy. Even then, unless you are a crna, you are a lower life form. They even disrespect the doctors. Why is that?
Here's the deal. I've worked all my life. I'm a productive member of society. Just because I CHOSE not to go into the medical field doesn't mean I'm an inferior life form. It means that maybe I really don't like people (in general) much. Maybe it's about having to work inside all the time. Maybe it's because my hyperactivity doesn't allow for extended periods of relative inactivity? I HATE trying to stay busy. I like a job where the job itself is busy. There is nothing wrong with that. Part of it is the time spent in school, sitting in a classroom. Part of it is the expense of higher learning. I have never been comfortable with debt. I don't like begging people for student loans. I don't like filling out paperwork. Lots of reasons NOT to go into health care. That doesn't make me stupid or unworthy of care.
I WORK! I pay huge sums of money for my health insurance. How does it happen that even though I'm making these astronomical payments for health care, that when I want to use it I am treated like a deadbeat? Why am I taken to task for every little thing about me that isn't perfect? Yes I have packed on a few pounds, but I'm nowhere near obese. I can't be obese and do my job. Why is personal attack the main theme from health care workers? Can't they just fix the problem without the nastiness? It's like I don't deserve treatment no matter how much I pay. I pay and pay and pay with money *I* earn so that I can afford treatment. Treatment grudgingly given. So what exactly is the point of paying all that hard earned money if I can't use my insurance when I (finally) have a problem?
Most of my friends have experienced this lack of respect from medical workers as well, so I know it's not just me. Why can't the medical field just treat the damn problem without all the sermonizing? Do they think it's helpful for patients to be treated like juvenile malingerers by health care? All those pure and spotless people who will never grow old, never smoke, drink, speed, or do anything lest they "ruin" their health. Of course they have excuses for their unhealthy choices but for you patients? Not so much.
In my last encounter with health care I went for months complaining of chest pain. I went to work every day, exhausted, did my physically demanding job and then some. My gp was uninterested in the (serious) heat exhaustion I experienced one day, which symptoms continued for 2 weeks. He was uninterested in my chest pain. I was made to feel like I was some kind of scammer trying to get on disability! It was insulting. I guess I personally am not good enough to rate medical care. I had refused a colonoscopy (Versed issue) and the statins didn't agree with me so I adjusted my diet instead. I guess that makes me a persona non grata. Oh, they still took my money for appointments, but ignored my problem or blamed ME for it.
Even the cardiologist demanded to know why I was back in his office. The stress test showed nothing, but it did reactivate the previously controlled (by Verapamil) chest pain. Since I don't complain a lot about things, I guess that means that I'm not really ill. So at the end, because I found another doctor ( a horse person like me) that called the cardiologist personally I got the treatment I needed. My cardiologist had CONVINCED me that my chest pain was stress related. I told the new doctor I was there for non-cardiac chest pain. Those words passed my lips and I had to eat them later. Without him, it was just a matter of time before I collapsed of a heart attack.
So for all my class A personality types, don't let the medical machine disrespect you and make light of your complaint. THEY CAN BE WRONG! Don't let them tell you that it's your ________ (name the vice/condition) that is causing it. Don't buy into the "it's all your fault and you are faking it" that a lot of medical people try.
For prospective heart patients whose personalities are like mine...If you are going to work exhausted, and performing by sheer willpower, don't think it's just that you are growing old. If you are too tired to talk, don't think it's just that you are working hard. If you have chest pain that feels like a heart attack, regardless of the blood/stress tests get treated. Change doctors if you have to until you find one who doesn't treat you like uninteresting pond scum. Don't be ashamed to USE your insurance. That's why you pay for it isn't it? Don't let the medical people intimidate and shame you.
Don't let medical or dental providers give you the poison called Versed. The only people that this drug is safe for is the drug pusher! This drug allows care-GIVERS to be care-LESS with you. Not only was I shockingly poisoned against my will, but my surgery ORIF distal radius was carelessly done. We need health care reform and this is why...
Friday, October 17, 2014
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Versed and Hysterectomy
This article is of particular interest to women... Men SHOULD be interested because your wife or girlfriend might be subjected to a hysterectomy herself with personality changes as a result. Robin, the author of the piece, got Versed first in order to force her into submission for her life altering surgery. She got the triple whammy, Versed and its brain damage and a hysterectomy with physical damage and psychological hormonal changes.
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http://www.hormonesmatter.com/victimized-medicine/
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http://www.hormonesmatter.com/victimized-medicine/
VICTIMIZED BY MEDICINE
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 24TH, 2014 / ROBIN KARR
I don’t particularly like saying I’ve been “victimized” nor do I like thinking of myself as a “victim”. I never have. The truth is though, according to the Merriam Webster Dictionary, I have been victimized. Merriam defines victimized as follows: to treat (someone) cruelly or unfairly: to make a victim of; to subject to deception or fraud. Victim is defined as: a person who has been attacked, injured, robbed, or killed by someone else; a person who is cheated or fooled by someone else and someone or something that is harmed by an unpleasant event (such as an illness or accident).
In 2007, I was knocked out with Versed and surgically assaulted. I wrote about what happened to mehere. The reason I use the word “assaulted” is because I did not consent to surgery – more specifically I did not consent to castration. Indeed, I was treated cruelly. I was attacked, injured, and robbed.
When there is no consent for surgery, it’s absolutely considered assault and battery. With over half a million women undergoing hysterectomy each year, it’s hard to imagine that there is informed consent in all of those cases – really hard to imagine. It would be bad enough if women were only up against hysterectomy and castration abuse, but sadly, there are many more ways women are being abused and victimized by medicine. You can read more about that here.
So what’s a victim to do? How does a victim start over and find purpose in her life again? Where exactly does a victim turn for help? How does a victim heal from the trauma? I suspect the answers to these questions might differ from one victim to another. The answers would also likely depend largely on the circumstances. And, while I can’t answer for other victims, I can certainly explain how I’ve managed to go on and even find purpose again.
One of the most important steps I took was to reach out. I know from experience that it is never a good idea to isolate oneself – although it is often human nature to do just that during times of trauma. For me personally, I knew that I needed to contact lawyers to see how I might go about pursuing a medical malpractice suit, since I did not consent to surgery.
I also contacted the police to see if filing criminal charges was an option for me. I found out it wasn’t because, according to the police officers I spoke with, it’s considered a “civil” case when a person’s been harmed by a doctor inside a hospital. More regarding how I feel about that another day though.
I reached out to local lawmakers and testified in both Indiana and Kentucky regarding hysterectomy informed consent laws or rather the lack of them. And last but not least, I reached out to other women who’ve been abused by medicine. Sadly, there are many – too many.
And while contacting lawyers, police, lawmakers, and other women made make me feel less like a victim externally, I still felt like a victim internally. I have never allowed myself to assume the role of victim and I didn’t want to do that in this case either. I searched my heart and knew what I needed to do. I needed to write. So, I created a blog site here and then a website here and eventually a Facebook page here.And, I’ve written a variety of articles for Hormones Matter as well.
The way I process, heal and communicate is through my written words. Ultimately, as negative and painful as undergoing unconsented hysterectomy and castration has been for me, it forced me to connect with and understand who I am at the deepest level of my being. When my former doctor took the violent actions he did against me, something so precious –so incalculable- was taken from me in that instant: my value and my worth – as a human being and especially as a woman. I had to dig deep to find myself again. I’m still digging…
As the anniversary of my surgical assault draws near on September 27, I can’t help but think about that day that changed my life, health and sexuality forever. I’ve asked myself over and over again why was I targeted for unnecessary surgery and why was I knocked out against my will, sliced open, and castrated. This is what I have concluded. During the two hours I was in surgery, I was nothing more than an object that happened to possess the pieces or body parts necessary to make money for that doctor and that hospital. Behind those surgical doors, I was treated as property (though never purchased), that my former doctor felt he had the right to touch and use for his own purposes.
During those two hours, I had no voice, no thoughts, no feelings, no soul, no mind, no emotions, no power and no potential. I only had a vagina and the life-sustaining organs that lived inside of it. And he felt entitled to that – entitled to take away my life-sustaining organs and my womanhood without actually knowing or caring anything about me. He violated me in the worst possible way one human being can violate another human being. That doctor ruined my life, my sexuality, and my health without even the slightest regard for how profoundly my life would change. Every dream I carried inside of me was crushed beyond recognition because of what he did with his scalpel.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned through this nightmare experience, it’s that I have to speak out about what happened and call things the way they are – even if that’s not necessarily what others are comfortable hearing and knowing.
I don’t sugarcoat what happened to me. I can’t. What was done to me was violent, shameful, wrong, immoral, unacceptable and downright evil. It was painful, hurtful, disrespectful, discriminatory, barbaric and criminal. I try to soften the trauma of what happened by reaching out to other women who’ve been victimized to let them know they are not alone in their devastation.
And, of course, my hope is to help women who’ve not yet been victimized know the truth about hysterectomy and castration that their doctors simply will not tell them. In other words, in helping other women, I’m taking the horror of what happened to me and I’m turning it into something of worth. I’m turning my pain into something I can at least live with and not lose my sanity completely.
I feel. I connect. I cry. I learn. I speak. I fight. I write.
The devastation I’ve endured in this situation is matchless to anything I have ever experienced before other than the loss of my two youngest children. There’s no way I can say it isn’t. At my weakest moments, I remember my strength. I remember that I have a voice. I speak and I speak loudly. I speak not only for my own sake, but for the sake of millions of other women. When I tell my story, I’m telling the story of all women who’ve been abused and victimized by medicine. Knowing I am helping someone else, helps me survive.
Speak Up! Speak Out!
I would love for more women to take a stand with me against the medical abuse of women. Please consider sharing your own story on the Hormones Matter site. Let’s connect and see what we can do together as one large voice!