Chapter One: This is the Best Day Ever
As I gazed out the window, the only thing on my mind was how I desperately needed to get out of here. I couldn't spend another day confined to a bed, drowned with boredom and Benzedrine.
They all think I'm sick. Sick in the head and sick in the heart. They think they can cure me. That they can save me. That they can fix what isn't wrong with me. What's never been wrong with me. They think I have a problem. But the problem has never been me. The problem is merely what surrounds me, surrounds them. Engulfing us all in pain and a false sense of glory. Basking us in hope for a better day that'll never come.
They'll never save me. I'm not worth saving.
-
The sound of nurses heels tapping the ground is irritating to say the least. To me, it's like nails on a chalkboard, or the sound of my own voice. Hearing them all run around, never near enough to warrant my complaints but never far enough to ignore, causes headaches that could last a lifetime. Or what feels like a lifetime to me at least. But then again, anything feels like eternity when you're trapped in drab hospital walls. The tapping continues, except this time it seems nearer. Closer. I looked up to see a blonde woman wearing a nurses uniform approaching me. She smiles slightly at me, seemingly an attempt to calm me. I don’t smile back.
"Clyde, is it?" She glances at me after presumably reading what is my file. I nod at her, not wanting to make conversation.
"You've been relocated to the second floor due to a vacant bed. You'll be moving soon enough, just wanted to give you a heads up." She smiles at me again, but more genuine this time.
"Thanks," I mutter. I try and smile at her, hoping she takes it as me thanking her. She nods and turns away, leaving me alone again. With my thoughts, and my thoughts alone, as my only company.
The room I'm currently in is bare to say the least - the only decoration being blood on the walls. Everything is an off whitish shade, the room feeling damp and bleak. It smells stale and abandoned - an uncomfortable feeling as I drift off to sleep.
-
As I awake, all I can hear is the sound of people chatting and shuffling, noisier than it has ever been, nosier than it should be in an empty ward. I open my eyes, only to meet a smiling nurse's eyes. "You're awake" She beams at me, not particularly unusual, but odd regardless.
"Yeah, uhm.. I presume I've been moved, right?" She nods at me, confirming my suspicions.
I glance at my new surroundings. It's brighter, cleaner. There's actually people here. To my left, I can hear an old man talking to who I presume to be his wife. He's describing his day to her, listing everything he had done previous to arriving at the hospital. He speaks of their home, how he's painted the walls a bright shade of yellow while she was away. He's redecorated the kitchen for when she returns, splurging on new easels for their art room. He tells her how the dog misses her oh so much, and how he's barked at every salesman knocking at the front door, wishing it was her instead. She asks questions about his day, and how works been, and it's simple yet beautiful how much she cares. I know nothing about these people but their love is sickeningly clear. And my heart aches again, but for once not out of sickness - but out of jealously instead. It must be nice to love, and to be loved in return.
To my right, there seems to be someone, but I can't quite make out their face. I can only see slightly through the thin, worn dividers. All I can see is black hair, and blood. Lots of blood.
Why is there blood?
"Is there a Clyde here?" The nurse calls out again.
"Yeah, that's me." I do my best to sound pleasant, however, it's difficult to sound happy when you're simply not.
"Yeah, so you've been moved up here for your last couple days of treatment. You were attacked - punched, right?"
"Yeah pretty much." She begins to read my file.
"It says here you came in with a fractured jaw and some other minor wounds, cuts and scars elsewhere, mainly around your chest, is that correct?"
I nod, not quite meeting her eyes. I feel pathetic for getting into this situation in the first place. So any form of a reminder is humbling to say the least.
"Okay, so it seems that you're healing quite nicely in terms of that, however, from what I’m aware of you do have some sort of underlying conditions that Dr. Thompson will be dealing with, which should all be fine, so no need to worry about that" She doesn't want to worry me. It's not working.
"It says something on your case about previous incidents with supernatural encounters, as well as some history with substance abuse and self harm if I'm correct, which may seem like such awful challenges - but with modern technology I'm sure you'll be just fine" She gives me a sympathetic look .
"But you've had no visitors, which is unfortunate." her look turns to one of pity. She pities me.
“Although, we do have some other patients who are likely feeling lonely as well, so I'll see if I can organize some form of meeting to keep you all entertained and in good company." She pities me.
"I'll do my best to get something sorted." She pities me.
"Take care." She smiles, while looking down at me, and I watch her walk away.
I don't want her pity. I don't want anyone's pity. I've never asked for pity - only fools ask for pity. People who wallop in self loathing ask for pity - they feed off it. They live amongst themselves, forever alone and in their head. Yet here I am, alone, once again. And pitied, the last thing I've ever wanted to be.
-
I turn my head back to the right in an attempt to distract myself once again, instead this time not being faced with a loving couple, but with a faint view of the woman I had seen there mere moments before. Squinting closer this time, I try to focus in on the details of her face. There's blood covering her lips, seemingly dripping from her nose, but it's hard to make out through the divider. I feel myself frowning - last time I checked there was more blood. I can hear her breathing, it's soft, barely audible. However, still just loud enough to hear since the ward is quiet now bar the sounds of faint breathing. I presume she's asleep, as her eyes are closed, and her body is still. She's relaxed - how could anyone be relaxed in a place like this? She must be drugged. Yes, that must be it. I have to leave. What if they get me next??? Her breathing stays constant, at a steady pace. I feel fear creep up on me. It's too calm. It's too bright, too happy in here. We're all sick - They're all sick. Why is everyone so cheerful? Why is everyone?-
-
"Hello"
The sudden noise startles me. Her face startles me more. She's beautiful.
"I wasn't sure if it was okay to wake you, they just kind of left us here." She smiles hesitantly at me. "No, it's fine.. uhm.. no worries, yeah." I glance around her. She's hooked up to a machine, same as me. There's no one else in the room anymore, just the two of us.
“Do you have any clue what happened here?" She shakes her head. As I glance at the surroundings, I realize we're in a different room now - the kind of place where they hold group therapy sessions for psych ward patients. I frown.
"I woke up in here about an hour ago, and no one's come in since. I think they must've forgotten about us or something" she chuckles.
I find myself smiling back. I look at her face, closer this time. She looked familiar - faint blood stains on her lips and jet black hair contradicting her pale face. I had seen her before, but we had never met - I would remember if we had. I never forget.
We sit in silence, it's awkward and uncanny. I try to analyze the room some more, but it's no use. Every room is the same here - just another cage. I look back at her, while she picks at her blood stained nails.
"So, why are you here then?" I ask.
“That makes me sound like a criminal"
"Well, I never said that-" She cuts me off by laughing. How irritating. Cutting me off is rude - does she not have manners? I glare at her as she continues giggling. She has a pretty face, but only with her mouth shut.
“I got injured, can't exactly remember what happened but I've been hooked on these machines for the past few days. You?”
“I was walking to work, and,” I paused. There was no way to explain this without sounding like I'm insane.
“And you..?” She dragged on the “you” bit, clearly annoyed at my pause.
“I don't know - I was just walking and the ground caved under me, and I felt a punch to my face and then the next thing I know I'm awake in an ambulance and covered in blood. Nothing makes sense at all here.” She nods in agreement, and I’m surprised she doesn’t question it further.
“That's rough isn't it.” I nod, and we sit in silence once more. At least we had something in common - Knowing something was wrong. Very wrong.
-
“So, you were walking to work and then got in a one sided fist fight with Casper. Where do you work anyways? You a mortician or some spooky shit like that?”
“I work in a liquor store.” She perks up at the word liquor.
“God, I could use really use a drink” She half sighs, half laughs.
“Tell me about it.”
The room falls silent once again as I wonder how long we'll be left alone. It's strange how we've just been left to our own devices in a hospital of all places, but this place is even stranger, so it's fitting I suppose. Yet it still makes no sense. They're meant to be professionals - they should be doing their job, watching us, as odd as that may feel. It's worse that they're not. What if something happened? What if there was an attack?? And they couldn't risk taking us, so we've just been left here to die. What if we die here??? What if there's monsters outside the door, waiting for us to move closer, inching nearer by the second. What if we die here???? What if I never go home????? What if??????
“Sorry for the wait, I meant to come up sooner, but I was.. busy, yeah” A nurse.
She has bloodshot eyes and is breathing like she’s just ran a mile.
“I'm obviously no doctor,” she started.
“Well no shit”
She shoots me a look.
“But you two have been put in here as you've had no visitors and this room was free.”
“That's not how hospitals work,” I start, “Why are we really in here? They can't move us without reason. I was moved earlier today, this is bullshit you know-”
“I don't know, nor do I care. I'm just here to watch you.”
“Bullshit.” My fist clenches. Why do they always think I'm stupid? I'm not stupid. I'm not crazy. There's nothing wrong with me. Why do they always act like this?? Why???
“Woah, okay relax man.” The woman in the bed from before looks worried. Like she might start crying, even. I don't care. She's a giddy little bitch anyways. Of course she's scared.
“You better fucking tell me what's going on before I figure it out myself.” The nurse begins to back away, like I'm some sort of animal.
“I think it's best if I leave.. yeah.. I think that's best..” She backs away, leaving us alone again.
“What are you doing leaving me in here with him? What the fuck woman.” I look over to see a startled expression across her face, and I notice the faint blood stains. Her voice is shaky, and I feel a sudden pang of guilt strike my chest. Maybe I was too harsh before.
“I'm not gonna hurt you or anything. I just-”
“Yeah, like I can take your word for that.” She rolls her eyes, voice wavering.
“Listen, there's obviously something up here. We shouldn't be moved around like this, and that ‘nurse’ was as high as a fucking kite. I need answers, okay?”
“Right..” she says, half heartily. Better than nothing I guess.
“Do you remember exactly how long you've been here for?” I ask.
“Like, around three or four days? Five days max. Why?”
“The medication might have some sort of prolonged sedating effect, making us drowsy and unresponsive - when were you last medicated? that could explain why you're so calm and I'm normal”
“Normal? Maybe your just a fucking looney-” she mutters.
“I heard that.”
“The last thing I remember from before I was down here was being given medication, so I'd say only a few hours. Happy now?”
“That'd all add up..”
“We've not been sedated or poisoned or whatever you think - we're just being treated.. or whatever they do at hospitals.. stop making shit up to worry about. It'll do you no good.”
Maybe she's right. Or maybe not. Probably not.
-
“So uh, tell me more about yourself. What’s your life like when you're not trying to figure out some hospital’s doomsday plan.”
I glance at her. She seems genuinely interested. Maybe I'm worried over nothing. Yeah, maybe. Maybe she's right.
“Well, I live alone in a shitty condo,” I pause, not really knowing where to start, “I get paid minimum wage and that's about it. No plans, no real ambitions. My life is.. sad I suppose.” I look over and see her frowning. Shit.
“Sorry, I don't mean to ruin the mood.. whatever it was before.”
“No it's okay, I really don't know what I was expecting you to say. It's not like some millionaire would ever end up in here.” She says, and I'm unsure how to take that. Is she insulting me? Or is this some form of sympathy? I wonder.
“Do you like where you work? Do you get discounts on stuff?”
“On what?”
“Drinks, obviously.” She rolls her eyes at me. Right, that.
“I mean sometimes, I don't drink all that much anymore. Can't be assed. It gets boring alone after a while.”
“Well maybe next time you won't be alone. I wouldn't mind a drink, and you owe me for that scare earlier.”
“What-”
“So,” She interrupts, “When are you gonna get out of here? D’you think we could break out?”
“Uhm..” I think for a moment, “I'm not too sure, but the security isn't too tight here, that's for sure.”
She nods, and I remember my earlier suspicions. The medication - they must be poisoning us with it. That's probably what that nurse was in for earlier. I can't take anymore of it. I eye the woman again. Should I really take her with me if I am going to escape? She seems too emotional, too expressive. It'd be risky. Why should I bring her? What gain would it be for me? I look up at her. She's picking at her nails again. She's odd - and I don't like her. But I can't just leave her here. Who knows what they'd do to her. Despite that I dislike her, despite it being risky to bring her with me, I'm oddly captivated by her- and my guilty conscience would eat me alive if I just left her here to rot. Why is she so perky in a hospital? How did she end up here? Why does she ask so many questions? Why are they about me of all people? Is she just asking them to get on my good side? She's irritating but I don't think she's stupid. What if she's just been sent down here to get me to stay? What if this is all a part of the hospital's plan to use me as a lab rat? That'd make sense. Maybe that's why she tried to calm me. That's why she's trying to lure me out. Maybe I should knock her out, then I'd get a chance to run. I'd have to leg it, but it'd be possi-
“Hellooooo? Earth to.. whatever you said your name is.” She's glaring at me again, an irritated expression on her face. Maybe I'm overthinking it. Maybe I'm not.
“It's Clyde.”
“That suits you.”
“How does a name suit me - that makes no sense.”
“I dunno, it just matches your face.” I feel myself pout. Matches my face? What the fuck does that mean?
She begins to laugh, “Oh God, your face. I'm sorry, I didn't mean that as an insult.” She continues giggling. What is she, twelve?
“How is that funny???”
She laughs even more, “Pfft,” she's wheezing at this point. “You look like someone just killed your first born - I wish you could see yourself.”
She reaches over to grab a pen and grabs a tissue. She begins to draw what looks like my face - but instead of being me it's a stickman drawn by a shitty blue biro. It's got two dots for eyes, and it's frown stretches across half it's face.
“Is that supposed to be me?” I say, still pouting. There's tears in her eyes at this point.
“I'm so sorry I can't draw for shit. It's fucking awful.” She says, in between giggles.
“I look so.. lopsided :(”
She's a mixture of laughter and wheezing now, and I can't help but find it contagious.
“They should put this up in the Louvre.” She mumbles, smiling.
“Yeah you wish.”
She smiles at me, and for some strange reason, I smile back. Maybe she's not so bad after all.
“It’s Bonnie, by the way.”
-
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” She asks, eyeing me nervously. I fight the urge to roll my eyes, and tell her she’s acting like an absolute wuss, especially since it was her idea to leave this soon in the first place. It’s night now, and it’s been hours since anyone has come to check on us. I managed to disconnect myself from the monitor - there was a patch on my left arm, connected to what seemed to be a heart monitor. But when I peeled it off, nothing had changed, only confirming my suspicions that we needed to leave. What kind of hospital fakes a patients heart race? What do they think I am? A mouse? A lab rat?
“Yes, I’m sure you’ll be just fine. It’s not even tracking your heart rate. It’s literally just a preloaded video they must have on loop.” I tug on the patches, disconnecting them one by one.
“I just don’t understand, why would they do that” She frowns.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if this was just a front - it’s probably just a cover up, like money laundering or something.”
“Isn’t that done through like, restaurants or laundromats? I don’t think they’d do that through a hospital, I mean, how’d that even work??”
“Yeah well,” I reach a hand out to her, offering to help her up, “Hospitals usually treat patients, but that’s not happening here, is it?”
She rolls her eyes at me, smiling slightly, and exhales - almost as if to suppress a laugh.
“You should be a detective.” She jokes. I simply roll my eyes back.
“You’re sooooo funny, you know you should be a comedian.”
She giggles at me, whilst grabbing my hand to stand up.
“Jesus, it feels like it’s been years since I’ve been on my own two feet. Crazy how much things can change in only a few days, isn’t it?”
I can’t tell if her question is rhetorical. I answer regardless.
“I guess life is fragile like that.”
She nods in agreement. She’s gripping on to the bed - it’s weird. I haven’t stood up in days either, yet I’m barely struggling, while she’s clinging on to the bedframe like it’s her lifeline. Weird.
“Here,” I say, handing her a handful of safety pins, “Since you're um.. in a hospital gown, y’know?”
“Yeah, right, right.” She says awkwardly, pinning the back of her gown.
“So, when do you think you got in here again?” I do my best at small talk, even though it’s mostly repetitive. I try to not come across as rude or intrusive - the last thing I need is an argument.
“Like five days ago? Maybe six, that might explain why I can barely walk. What matters now though is that we’re getting out, so c’mon, let’s go.” She reaches for my hand, but misses, so I grab hers.
“Well, I’ll be leading you then.”
“I’m perfectly capable of figuring out how to get us out of here, thanks.” She glares at me.
“Trust me,” I sigh in annoyance, “I have no doubt about that. But you can barely stand up by yourself, and I can bet you that I’ve been in this hospital more times this past year than your entire bloodline combined - I know this place like the back of my own hand. So, follow my lead, kay?”
She gives me a look, but nods. I take her hand, and lead us towards the door. It’s closed, but not locked. Pushing it forward slightly, I look out to see if anyone’s nearby.
“I can’t see anyone, let’s go.”
As we make our way out the door, I read the sign outside our door.
“If I’m right - which I always am, we’re on the first floor in the left wing. We shouldn’t be too far from a staircase.”
She stops and gives me a blank stare.
“What?”
“Turn around.” She says, her tone somber. Fuck. What if someone’s behind us? Shit - they’ll have us locked up properly if they catch us, but there’s no way we could leg it - she can barely walk and I can’t just leave her here. What can I do now? Think Clyde, think.
“Oh God your face - turn around dumbass. There’s a stairs right there.”
Before I can even reply, I feel her pulling me towards the stairs.
“What the fuck was that for? That was seriously uncool.”
She begins to laugh, “Uncool? What are you, twelve? Stop whining and let’s go.”
Before I get the chance to protest, she shushes me, again. Reluctantly I follow her down the stairs as she clutches on to the handrail.
“Y’know, maybe I should go in front - that way in case you fall I’ll be able to catch you.”
“Well that’s not gonna happe-” She says, as she slips. I grab her before she’s able to fall.
“What was that?” I ask smugly. She’s got the most defeated look on her face - and I feel bad for just a moment.
“Yeah, whatever.” She mumbles.
We reach the end of the stairs after an awkward minute of silence.
“Sorry, that was a dick-ish thing to do. My bad.”
“Is that even a word?”
“I’m not too sure. Do you accept my apology?”
“Sure, still think you’re an asshole though.”
-
“We’ve been walking through this hall for ages, where the hell is this ‘emergency exit’ - I swear, if you made this shit up-”
“We’re nearly there, I promise.” Its about the fifth time I’ve said this in the past hour.
“From what I remember, the left wing was closed off a few years ago due to fire hazard concerns, which means that all the exits should’ve been cut off.”
“Well clearly not since that nurse or whatever got in earlier - and we were put in here somehow.”
“Exactly - and the only exit we haven’t passed should be right about.. here.”
We stop in front of exactly what I knew would be here - an emergency door with a busted sign above it.
“Let’s get out of here” I say, and she takes my hand. And we’re free, as we wander past the gates. The city is dead - no one really goes out past 11pm, unless they’re looking for trouble.
“Why don’t we head out of here - like out of the city?” She asks.
“Why would we do that, don’t you have anyone to go back to?”
“Please, I know a place and it’s always so beautiful at this time of the night. You can leave if you like after, but just come with me for a bit.”
I pause, unsure of whether or not to trust her. Oh well.
“If I die, bury me with my dignity.”
-
The silence is practically deafening - but that’s what every safe place feels like when you’ve lived in trouble your whole life. I’ve never been one for the countryside, or anything that resembles it for that matter. Yet it’s oddly peaceful. The quiet is alien to me, it’s as foreign as could be, but I don’t dislike it. It’s comforting in a way. Unsettling, sure, but comforting nevertheless.
“Y’know,” She begins, still holding my hand, “You’re not as bad as I thought. I think I might learn to like you, Clyde.”
“Well maybe I could learn to like you too, if you weren’t so-”
“Oh shut up,” She laughs, “I’m just glad we got out of there.”
“Me too.”
We’re alone in the field - nothing but grass and flowers surround us, with the night sky looming overhead. The only thing I can see clearly is the moon reflecting in her eyes - and it’s kind of beautiful, the way it glows.
“As stupid as this may sound, I think this might just be the best day ever” She declares.
“What? You’re not serious, are you?”
“Maybe, maybe not.” She smiles. “How far do you live from here?”
“About an hours walk from the hospital, so it's not too far I guess.”
“We can leave in a bit if you'd like.”
“Yeah, sure,” I smile.
And as what feels like hours passes by, I find myself grateful for the horrible circumstances I've found myself in. And as we leave, those thoughts from earlier come back again. Maybe I could learn to like her. Maybe she is right.
1 note
·
View note
"Healthcare" farce.
The other day I as usual requested a renewal for two medicines I've used for 15 years - the right stuff. Instead a nurse booked a meeting, claiming that "the doctors" said to meet for renewal, in my journal! Changing, gaslighting.
What is normal is for a doctor to schedule a summons ffs! Instead they had changed the predicted renewal to beg for a needless appointment then! Rotten to the core frauds!! 🤬
This was the continuation from last year, where a nurse had commented that they had free time for "your spirometry", a useless service that I am not in need of at all given that the dosage is already correct, and minimal! The doctor then only renewed for one, rather than the usual four times - a year supply - apparantly going with the nurse by imposing an artificial limitation on the availability of my medicine to push needless services on me! Thus, they callously created artificial demand! I complained about that to the healtcare inspector authority, but never heard from them. Useless. 🙄
Back to today... I naturally unbooked the appointment since I hadn't requested that. Then I went to an emergency room since I had no medicine left. They agreed to prescribe a limited amount, though their function is not to renew prescriptions. The nurse was victim blaming though, needlessly playing devils advocate. So I got my medicine for now anyway.
I will complain to the healthcare inspectors about the begging to be needed despite my chronic condition remaining unchanged. They put my life at risk by playing games - sadistically trying to push needless services on me - instead of delivering on them medicines upon request ffs!
I will schedule an appointment at another clinic than the unreliable beggar one, then really iron in that I do need my medicine upon request, nothing else!
I will not submit to needless check-ups just because of some abusive nurse once had time to spare for needless spirometry, and the groupthink that ensued! I do not exist to fill their slots! That ain't "care", that's blackmail and fraud! I ain't no slave! 🤬
And so, guess what... I will henceforth REFUSE TO LET ANY DOCTOR TOUCH ME AT ALL!! Minimize that! 🤯
AND I will still get the medicine I am entitled to, given my chronic condition.
Ah yes, touching privaleges removed! The client has spoken. 🤫
I am not to be trifled with! 🧐
I am not to be trifled with! 🧐
I am not to be trifled with! 🧐
I'll update, and link this post once I have complained to the inspector about the bad practise, etc.
Update 1: The farce continues.
The new clinic are playing sick games. Will put together a collage of screenshots later.
One "doctor" claimed I don't have asthma, an official diagnosis according to my journal, going against all previous observations from my childhood and adulthood! They then neglected to schedule a meeting, instead a doctor instructed a nurse nurse to tell me to ask for an appointment for the purpose of getting another diagnosis! I commented my objection to the deranged claim in a note in my journal. 🙄
I called the head of the clinic, who was on vacation. I then called IVO (healthcare inspection authority), who were not available by phone like their homepage claims, instead running an unadvertised schedule during summer. I then inquired through the IVO website how a primary care doctor is allowed to go about when questioning a diagnosis. I will lodge a complaint regarding this negligence - grasping for straws to falsely contradict a lifetime of doctors, out of malice! 🙄
After I sent the request again, adding my strong assertion that the other doctors are correct, the clinic today - on the 25:th of July - scheduled an appointment for the 19:th of August, far from their obligation BY LAW of maximum 3 days for a primary care appointment (90 days for specialist). I added a note of the negligence in my journal. 🙄
I then sent my request yet again, where I also inform them of the negligence, and that I will lodge complaints to the IVO regarding the failures.
I have chronic asthma without a doubt. I went to visit a specialist doctor/researcher during my entire childhood! A rolemodel for his field, they call him in the news article below. I'll include pictures or scans of part of the journal for the upcoming collage.
He expressed concern for me upon my transfer to a specialist for adults in the 90:s... rightfully so given this farce from these primary care "caregivers", who are playing games and now a "doctor" even falsely questioned my asthma diagnosis - which is backed up by a ton of data from my childhood, and adulthood. 🙄
(https://www.sydsvenskan.se/2008-06-15/tony-foucard-foregangsman-inom-barnallergologi)
(Salmeterol is a long-acting beta-adrenoceptor agonist. We later opted out of the study since we'd get charged more for the medicine, but I was prescribed it later and it is a component of the medicine I have used for 15 years that I am trying to get a renewed prescription for.)
Instead of believing in the diagnosis first set and observed by specialist doctors way back, primary care employees are now taking turns sadistically abusing me together by playing with my life - attempting to cause emotional distress and mortality salience, as a part of yet another monstrous obedience training - the latest unspoken excuse for deranged sadistic punishment is my refusal to be touched - only warranting my mistrust 100%! Here is the kicker... since I have suffocated so often from my lifelong asthma, I don't get stressed from asthmatic symptoms since that costs precious oxygen. 🙄
I will not be silenced by malpractice, and will indeed never let them touch me! It is the duty of the primary care to take this seriously and make sure my journal says not to touch me for, ffs! That IS my boundry, which no healthcare staff shall violate! It is utter incompetence to fail to take notice! 🤬
Go ahead and shamelessly beat the dead horse... burn the charred bridges that you still can't cross... sink the shipwreck you are in... the deep mistrust is still gonna be there, as it is obviously well deserved! 🙄
Again, none has taken notice of my assertion of refusal to be touched - A doctor I have never met opted instead to abuse me by disagreeing with my lifelong diagnosis, as a punishment. 🙄
Given the psychological torture I am being subjected to by sadistic "primary care" staff, I will indeed lodge a complaint to the IVO before long. 🙄
Update 2 (2019-07-28):
This patient is happy with the medicine and happy with the CORRECT diagnosis, despite the debased attempt above to force ME to suggest otherwise in order for them to provide service. ⚠️🙄
My DEAD SERIOUS no touching boundary for the healthcare staff keeps getting stonewalled. Boundary issues detected! 🕳️🙄
I predicted I'd get the silent treatment next, and thus asked for a specialist doctor. AND I put in an request to renew my prescription for the medicine that does the trick anyway, despite the propagated false claim that it doesn't. It does though. 🛑🙄
Update 3 (2019-08-02):
The other day, I finally got an appointment within a reasonable timeframe, for today. I immediately voiced my reservations in a note in my journal given that I was now to meet the same doc who got things so wrong (including the category, that looked like a physical meeting though it was a non-physical).
I went to the appointment earlier and am now chilling, some time after having gone out again to pick up the medicine.
The head of the clinic - a psychologist - joined the meeting, perhaps having gotten passed my complaint to this patient committee/authority thing since they had called me the day before after I filled in a form (only to minimize my grievance and undermine me though).
I tried to convey my personality and at the suggestion of spirometry and a lung x-ray to see if anything is amiss for instance, I said I can tell things are the same and that x-rays are carcinogenic, respectively. The doc then argued that tobacco causes cancer too, to which I said that is why to not add more risk since I would not submit to be treated for cancer anyway, and that my level of non-attachment includes my own life (I had mentioned my father passed away when I was 18, since we talked about my scool years, and that it was not "must have been difficult" to me). Such is my personality.
Anyway, we then discussed my medication. I requested an aerosol bronchodilator and an aerosol chamber instead of the powder, and suggested to go back to having separate salmeterol, to enable to cut down on the anti-inflammatory corticostereoids (salmeterol can never be prescribed alone though).
Now I'm prescribed Serevent Discus (50 microg salmeterol) twice a day, and Flutide Evohaler (125 microg fluticasone) 1-2 doses, twice a day - instead of the combination one, Seretide 50/250 twice. Also Ventoline Evohaler (salbutamol). GSK city.
The end of the too long story, I hope. There you have it.
0 notes