The Irony Of Misappropriated Care, Part 2 Continued (Jan 15, 2018)

(To catch you up, the topic began with my friend’s expression of surprised pleasure that I own being a loose cannon, in regards to my own expressing to her the risk I know she took reaching out to me.  Some people who have reached out have faced some very serious triggering from me, and also they have seen from me an intensity that most people cannot handle.  Today there are only two matters I feel really intensely about.  One is rape and the other is my right as a woman to choose.  The motto, “Don’t Tread On Me” either means women too or it means nothing.  Tread on me and you’ll receive a verbal lashing that gets pretty ugly.  I know its been shown here.  It is what it is, and before what they did to me my wrath was always appropriate. Its getting that way again.  Thank God.  So, okay, the discussion about being a loose cannon began this chapter.  WordPress, that people think was being hacked and so do I, has been corrected on what appears to be its own accord.  Let’s get back to the chapter, and hopefully I can give it the feeling I’d given it before.)

………..That is when I became the loose cannon. By the end of 2005 the doctors practice was already gaslighting, stalking, pushing me around their game board and covertly fucking with my head so that by the time I landed in Valley Medical in early 2006 the Ativan they prescribed was nothing but a relief. Now, at this time I’m going to return back to March 2005 where in Bob’s office he was swirling with his fingers the wedding band on mine……

I was aghast. Oh sure I was in la la land about how well I thought

>>>Dear Readers: WordPress deleted the remainder of this chapter. I will need to rewrite it and another one written earlier today WordPress also deleted. It appears I may have to create another formatting to continue. Tomorrow my computer will be worked on, then there will be another day’s work for me to do to get it running. Thank you for your patience.<<<<

Bob was taking care of me.  And although the drugs had me thinking that way, the idea of him seeming to make a move on me, or encroach into the realm of my marriage upset me.  I pulled my hand from his and said very clearly, “I’m married!”

He wasn’t wearing a wedding band, himself.  And I seemed to remember that he had at the time when he’d done a minor surgery removing a mole some years ago from my inner thigh.  Was he thinking about that?  I don’t know.  I didn’t know what he was thinking or where he was getting his ideas from.  I only know I needed to tell him I am married.  My marriage was none of his business!  I do not know why he had made that appointment with me.  And later Don said he’d never talked with Bob about our marriage.  Don didn’t see any problems with it to talk about.  The reason Don and I got a divorce is because I was so upset that he had not done anything, had not called paramedics or 911 either on that night when I reacted so negatively to the Ambien.  And that was the ONLY reason we got the divorce!  It has nothing to do with Bob and nothing to do with the condition of our marriage.  We had a good marriage, until the night of the negative reaction from the Ambien that started me on over 19 days and nights without sleep.

But on the witness stand Bob said he liked Mr. Carswell.  So let’s take a look at just how well he liked Mr. Carswell, shall we?

First of all, he lied about my condition – twice.  Second of all, he never called Don in to confer with him about my condition, and early on I would have approved such a discussion.

Then he called me into his office on the first workday after I was released from the psych ward and was setting there pawing my wedding band and finger.  To this day I don’t know what was his purpose except that when I asked what he meant by “help” he found a list of counselors to choose from to talk with.  He didn’t even say why it was that I needed to talk with one.  It was very confusing.  I don’t think I ever said to anyone, including the counselor, Gary, that the problem was my marriage, per se.  I wrote on the forms that I had been in the psych ward because of the Ambien.  I always said that.  Yet Gary began prodding into my marriage, which of course I was still pissed off because Don hadn’t helped me that night or any other night after that as my condition got worse and worse.  We already know it was my mom who finally did something, and its a good thing.  Because I was otherwise getting ready to drive across the country to my son’s house where I knew when he would see me he would do something to help.  To this day I do not know what happened to the $4,500 I took from the bank that I was going to use to cover the costs to drive from Washington to Ohio.  To this day there is too much that I don’t remember, and the things I do remember are all shocking.  The doctor’s pawing my hand was too much.  But it got worse!

During the whole year of 2005 I was losing my mind.  I didn’t even talk like myself.  My voice was high and squeaky, when really my usual voice is rather husky and masculine in a feminine way.  I had lost my identity, and not only that but by October Multicare had pulled out my female parts, too.  I was flipping out all over the doctor because I needed his help and it seemed like he was more interested in something else.  Later it seemed to be his medical assistant Munroe.  Not my business, but she seemed to be making it so.

But if Bob had respected Don, if he had liked him the way he said on the witness stand, what did that have to do with anything?  He was lying again.  Maybe he was worried Don might shoot him. And Don should have shot him.  If the shoe was on the other foot I would have shot him for Don.  Or at least I would have done something!  Probably I’d have filed a formal complaint with his clinic and with the medical board.  But on my own I couldn’t even think straight.  And the doctor’s group, now I know it was his family, were overwhelming me and I was flipping out.  I did change doctors to Dr. Chen but during our appointment he was telling me what a great guy Dr. (Bob) Sargent is, how he really likes him.  In my State of confusion I felt like the dude was trying to fix me up with him.  I didn’t like it.  And by then my neighbors and everyone around me was already talking about what they thought was going on, that wasn’t.    Its all revolting, unprofessional and revolting.

On December 5th, which is our son’s birthday so an easy day to remember for both of us, I was in Dr. Minehan’s office receiving the post hysterectomy pelvic exam.  I’m sure I’ve already told about this.  But now let’s look at just how much Bob respected and liked Don.

So there I was in the second most vulnerable position as woman can be in, the one with her OB/GYN, when he checked his computer to see a message from security.  He became rather angry, and got up from his desk while telling me everything is okay and that I could get dressed.  When he came back he had three people with him.  He told me that I have to go with them.  I am obedient, so I went.  There was a big, younger man in a security uniform, and two women.  One woman was Debbie, the administrator and the other women I’ve never seen before.  They circled me, pointed down an unlit hallway and told me to go that way.  At the end of the eastward hallway was a large examining room.  They followed me in. The lights were out in there too.  I was feeling very uncomfortable.   The man in the uniform told me that I have to sign some papers for them, then never return to the Multicare again.  I didn’t want to sign papers.  I wanted to leave.  They wouldn’t let me leave.

In the meantime, and this is what later Don told me, Dr. (Bob) Sargent had called Don into his office which was only yards away from where the three people had me trapped.  Don said the appointment was rather odd, because it wasn’t time for his blood pressure check.  He said he’s just had one earlier the previous month.  So when they called to make the appointment he questioned them.  He said the response was that Dr. (Bob) Sargent wanted him to come in.  The date was December 5th.  Easy to remember.  And it was during the afternoon while I was there too.

He said that Bob was questioning him about me, which made him feel very uncomfortable.  I asked Don what he had been asking him.  He said he couldn’t remember, only that it made him uncomfortable and that it was things none of his business.  At no time did Bob mention to him that I was in the clinic.  At no time did Bob mention to his that they had me surrounded by security people.  At no time did the security people ask me if I would like to have Don in there with me.  Nobody cared about neither I nor Don.

The idea that a few months later Bob was on the witness stand, while Don set right there in the courtroom alongside of me, Bob was saying that he liked Don…. that was such bullshit that even Don couldn’t believe it.

To be honest I had seen Don coming from the Multicare over the course of the next couple of months that we weren’t talking, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Don wasn’t traumatized by it all, too, like my God mother Dorris had said, so that Don was still trying to figure out what the hell happened, as well. But eventually Don quit going to doctor Sargent, and that could have been after being there that day in the courtroom with me.  That was in 2006, and Don and I were working our way back together.

But Bob didn’t like Don.  Bob only liked Bob.  Bob didn’t respect Don, either.  Bob destroyed Don’s marriage, cost Don lots in assets, too, that I’m sure Don will never recover as well.

Bob thought his marriage was the greatest even though he was at work pawing his medical assistant and I guess thinking I was her too.  Bob should have gone into marital counseling, especially because he told me that medicine is hard.  Well, if its hard after as many years as he had been a doctor then he was definitely in the wrong field.

Had they left me alone to get over what they’d done to me things would have been fine. But they couldn’t leave it alone, and the bitter old man had to show me what was what.  So he sent the cronies in to set me up with Kevin.  Once Kevin did the bad thing it was all over for me and Don.

Nobody cared about Don.  Dr. Sargent is a piece of shit liar.  All they wanted to do was to get even with me, just the same way the bitter old man got even with people at Western State Hospital/Jail.  Its no wonder everyone from there is killing themselves.  Who knows what goes on there, if they are willing to have done to me what they did?

It really makes me mad they used Kevin to mix things up.  I know that I say it all of the time, but its true.

The heartache portion is gone from me.  And now I remember all the good things that made us what we were.  That the doctor’s family took what he did with his drugs and turned my marriage into something filthy is atrocious.  And for some reason he seems to think he’s something special because he’s married with (too many) kids.  He doesn’t deserve anything good from that.  And who knows?  Maybe they are all self centered POS like he is.  I know my own son is a hard working, good man like Don and like my father and mother were, too.  The apples don’t fall far from the trees.  In that regard I’m lucky.  In that regard we have good memories and can still laugh at some of the silly things we did.

Like the year we bought joke presents.

Colby wanted a leather jacket and of course we got him one with the Invasion of Normandy of the interior.  It was cool.  But we also went to K Mart and got him this terrible brown plastic jacket like thing with crummy faux military patches on it.  And we wrapped up that and gave it to him first.

Also my mom had wanted a certain kitchen item, and we got her that.  But what we wrapped first was a t shirt we picked up at the thrift shop that had an over washed kitten decal on it so that parts of the kitten decal was missing.

We handed each box to them at the same time. So while they were opening them and holding them up their mouths were saying, “Nice”, but their frowns and their eyes were saying, “OH MY GOD!  THIS IS THE WORST!”

Then we started laughing so hard while handing them the real boxes of presents.  Hahahaha!

These are the things we laugh about together when we get family time, like at Christmas.  These are things that belong to our own family.  Now, Don’s been re married for a number of years and his new wife has kids.  I’m sure they like Don because he is intelligent and witty, and fun to be around.  They are making new memories, and that is good.  As for me, I’m happy with my old memories.  I just don’t think a “new” husband would get into the old memories.  I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong.  But I liked things the way that they were.  Until the Ambien.

But Bob didn’t like Don.  If he liked Don he wouldn’t have done him dirty. And he did him very dirty.  Bob and his own marriage is the dirty one.  I know because I saw Bob pawing Christine Munroe in the parking lot next to Multicare.  For years I never told that because I’m not a chicken shit.  Then one day I thought why not?  From then chicken shit has become my middle name, my mantra.  Even at that, thought, on a scale of 1 – 10 its only about a 4.  And Kevin knows this is true because he’s given me a lot more material I could dump here about him that I haven’t yet.  I’m just not that big of an asshole.  Which I guess is why I sleep so well.  I’ve just wanted to tell my story so that you all know what they do, how low they will go because they are privileged.

Also, last night I did realize that my fear of not being able to fall to sleep might happen again has gone away.  For many years after the Ambien I’ve lived horrified that it would happen again, that I suddenly wouldn’t be able to sleep and that nobody would know how to help me to sleep.  Not being able to sleep is a horrible experience, and I went over 19 days and nights without it.   But that hasn’t happened again.  I’m not bi polar, and I’m not suicidal.  And Bob and his family can all go to Hell.  The sooner, the better.



PS:  This chapter was not nearly as well told as the last time I wrote it.  The last time was a kinder, more accurate homage given to Don and to our marriage.  Our marriage deserves that, despite what ultimately happened.  We weren’t perfect, but things were fine.

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