I was raised by much older, chronically sick parents. I saw far too much of hospitals as a youngster. My father was a hospital patient as often as he was at home with his family. For instance, as a seven year old rock and roll fanatic, I had to watch the Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show on a television in the hospital lobby.
Every time my father underwent his latest surgery, he came out the worse for the wear. They never made him better. They never healed him. But they made a lot of money off of him. My mother was hospitalized several times during my youth as well. Again, while she was never as sickly as my father, they never improved her health, either. The same kind of hospital that has killed so many almost killed my sister at age thirty. They gave her the Last Rites of the Catholic Church, and she almost left six small children behind. Miraculously, she pulled through, only to be abused by them repeatedly decades later. She is in constant pain, and has never really recovered from a broken hip eight years ago. The doctors just shrug in their patented manner. What do you want us to do? Heal you or something? Healing is apparently for faith healers and witch doctors. I’m not sure that witch doctors aren’t superior to allopathic medicine.
I could share stories that you wouldn’t believe, just from my own personal experience. How they almost killed my father once when he underwent an incredibly simple surgery for a deviated septum. How they put the metal pin in wrong when he broke his hip, causing him excruciating pain and another unnecessary surgery. How the nurses took so long to bring my niece Denise, who has Down Syndrome, a bedpan that she fell and reinjured her broken hip. And, of course, you all know about how they killed my brother Ricky with their hospital COVID protocol. Is it any wonder that I have done everything I could to avoid doctors and the medical profession in general? Just give me another vitamin, please. I hear others talk glowingly about the treatment they received, or the wondrous accomplishments of their doctors, and I simply cannot believe it. I have seen nothing but the worst in them my entire life.
When I worked in a hospital, and interacted with nurses regularly, I heard patients screaming from their rooms for help, in vain. One nurse said, with a smile on her face, that she wished a particular patient would hurry up and die. A pediatric nurse joked to an orderly bringing a child to surgery, “Tell them not to try too hard. We are already full as it is.” I saw security called on an elderly mother who was so understandably grieved over her daughter’s death that she wasn’t leaving promptly enough. Her daughter’s dead body was visible in the ICU bed. The woman tried to explain that she had no one to pick her up. The nurses didn’t care. Security didn’t care. The system doesn’t care. You’re a piece of meat to them, to be carved into and exploited for all the money you have. I still feel guilty that I didn’t have the courage to chew out those nurses for treating that poor woman like that. I was too afraid of losing my job.
Hellbound and Down 