It’s possible the moment “they” realize “they’ve” messed up is when it begins. It’s also true there are so many agencies, entities and governments monitoring, listening in, following all of us that its easy for individuals in the PsyOp network to slide around slipping in and out without our ever knowing who they are. Well, I guess that’s kind of the definition of covert, isn’t it? So, its true, we are dealing on more than one level with many unknown people who in the old days would have had to come right up to our windows. But not anymore. Also true is how far they will go, how willing they are to take us out. In the meantime the average Joe wants to believe its all for our safety or its otherwise just a few low life without much power. In reality the network its all of the above. Even the network includes educators. I mean, someone’s got to teach the next generation of professional gang stalking terrorists, right? And they do.
Well, I wasn’t working because of the wreck and I was doing all of the things to get back to work. Yah, I’d made the mistake of “asking my doctor” because I wasn’t getting well in the time frame GEICO seemed to think I should, so they were harassing and stressing me out. But I was doing my best.
Going back to before I started working again at Eagle, I’d continued with the Rotary. And because after the Ambien I was so lame, to keep myself moving I began volunteering with many other groups.
Despite not being able to work for income I kept an active schedule. I volunteered clerking in my church’s office, worked at the church thrift shop and became a Board member there. I was on the H.O.M.E. Board working for the homeless. I joined the Kent Downtown Partnership, and the Mayor put me on the Art’s Commission. I became a member of the El Grullo Sister Cities project, and helped around town with as much as I could. So if anyone wanted to assert the idea I am or was lazy, am not nor was ever a good worker, or any of the other negative things predatory people spread around to create their own narrative, to that I can say bull. And it is those kinds of things they will spread around. They will also spread petty things like whispering we are jealous people, sluts, home wreckers, anything they can think of to cause other people to look down on us is what they will do when we are targeted. But I’ve always been confident in myself and my abilities, even if my value and work had been capitalized upon by others able to do that. Sticks and stones, you know? Let it roll off our backs.
So when the negative gossip first started I didn’t think too much about it. After all, I was busy trying to re-learn to add and subtract and re-learn how to read, comprehend and/or memorize, if I must, the relevant.
Plus there was the injury that I was having a very hard time recovering from. And, no wonder, considering the night of Feb. 8th, 2005 I flopped around the house like a fish out of water and my POS (now ex) husband didn’t even do anything to help me! I don’t know if that physically hurt me other than the bruises, but I’m sure it didn’t help either.
Not to mention my moods/emotions had been taken to incredible extremes so that I really did not know from one minute how I was going to be “feeling” in the next.
So I was a little busy that year to care too much about gossip, where it was coming from, or how it was otherwise affecting my life. But that would all catch up with me, and I suppose its safe to say that’s how PsyOps works. Its a creeper.
Too, I was helping divide up 28 years of combined possessions, and helping my ex move into his new apartment. I was still paying Don’s bills like always. Although who knows how that was even going since I couldn’t even add or subtract anymore? Ha!
And I was adjusting to taking care of the house all by myself that otherwise always took two, too. From the latter need I interviewed several people. I wanted someone reliable, trustworthy and who wouldn’t rip me off on the prices to come out when I needed help. I found one such person, and he called himself the Q-man. Right away, with his help, work around the house got done. The kind of things that when a husband says no it doesn’t happen. Things like having the heating vents cleaned out. Things like the taking down a terrible lean to that served no purpose but ugly. Hah! And then there was the things like replacing a blown out hot water heater. The Q-man became my go to guy.
Because of all the therapy appointments, volunteering, becoming part of the church (which most of my neighbors belonged to) my life was filling up with a lot of new people. My social life was becoming quite the whirl. I was everywhere, knew everyone, did everything. By August or September things had fallen apart with my doctor. At my request they change doctors for me but I was still going to Multicare. I was having other health problems. One that required a pelvic exam and another that later would require an MRI. Than I got back to work.
About the pelvic exam, how it all came about that is that I went into Multicare’s OB GYN for the exam. Within one day afterward, which was Friday, the nurse called me. When the call came in I was working with Jackie on a volunteer project for the Downtown Partnership. When I saw who the caller was I told Jackie that it cannot be good. And it was not. It was Erline from Multicare. She said she had bad news for me. The exam found unusual blood in the uterus and the walls were very thin. They believed I was in the advanced stages of uterine cancer, and if that was true than I had about 3 weeks to live. She said they’d made an emergency appointment with me to see Dr. Minehan on Monday, at which time he would tell me the options, if there were any. I was shocked. I said good bye for the day, and I went home to plan my demise.
At home, which was only about 5 blocks up the hill, I wrote out instructions for my son to follow upon my death. And as best I could on such quick notice I got everything in order for him. Than I spend the weekend praying, getting next to the Lord, so that with great strength I could handle what was to come.
Except on Monday Dr. Minehan told me they’d made a mistake. What?! What?! What?! Hooray!
He said that I wasn’t going to die, after all. He told me that I had a cyst on one ovary and a fibroid tumor on the wall of the uterus which was stretching me inside making the walls thin, of which he could easily remove via surgery. My God! I was so relieved he could have told me the remedy was to chop off my head and I would have been agreeable! He’d just saved my life! He was me hero! Hooray!
Oh, wait! I’ve remembered another time when I’ve gone off without editing. I am just remembering this. I’d slipped around 1995ish and the Multicare doctor told me I was too fat for her to tell if I was injured or not. That’s right! I remember now that Monday in Dr. Minehan’s office, 10 years later, there was a current magazine setting on the counter that was a subscription of Diane Reinemen’s. She was the doctor I went off on. I’d actually left Multicare because of her and found another doctor over that. Hahahaha! I’d forgotten all about that. Wow, another red flag. I should have seen the subscription and ran out of there! Wow. Yes, that’s right. My new doctor put me into a pool therapy. I wasn’t that injured from the fall, actually. So about 4 to 6 weeks of pool therapy and I was good to go again. I don’t know whatever came of that woman doctor but I was sure pissed off at her. She didn’t even take x rays, which the other doctor did to make sure there was nothing broken or permanent. It was only at the insistence of my (now ex) husband that I even returned to trust Multicare again. Anyway. that’s all water under the bridge. I just happened to remember, and I’m nothing if I’m not about giving full disclosure.
So back to Dr. Minehand’s advice in 2005, he told me he would advise a full hysterectomy. Well, at that time I didn’t know the difference between a full and a partial. Actually they figure we don’t. And I guess figure by our being relieved we will sign on board for whatever they suggest. Which I did, and the surgery to remove my uterus was scheduled for, get this, Halloween, October 31st, 2005. Remember the Haunted House I was working on for the Rotary fundraiser? Life depicting art. Scary.
(Two years later, while working with a retired nurse, I learned that I had not needed a total hysterectomy. She told me one of the best kept secrets, among many between insurance and medical practices, is removing a woman’s uterus. She said insurance will pay more to a surgeon to totally remove the uterus, rather than for the surgeon to just remove the problem (the fibroid.) She said most surgeons prefer to perform the full hysterectomy, too, because it takes less time and less precision. When I looked into that it was true. I didn’t need a total hysterectomy, after all. Yep, Multicare was the just like the Haunted House surgical room I’d designed.)
Ironically for the fundraiser, on October 27th and 28th I was an actress in the Haunted House surgical room where there was a woman on the table being cut apart by a doctor and a nurse. I and another fellow were tied in chairs, and we were calling out for help to the people going through the House, while we were tied and waiting our turn.
Wow, when I think back on that I’m, like, Holy Toledo! That’s a nightmare premonition come true I wish I’d have left in the trash bin! Not that Dr. Minehan did a bad job on the surgery. Thank God. Anyway, I was calling out for help so much in the Haunted House surgical room I remember when Lori went by with a woman I overheard the woman asking her who I was. hahahaha. No, not hahaha, WAH! Not even Shakespeare could write this stuff. What a nightmare. It was the portals of Lucifer’s.
As if their blowing my mind with drugs than yanking out my uterus wasn’t bad enough. It got even worse for me with them! In the meantime I was floating around knowing Dr. Sargent was totally in love with me, and just a torn man trying to protect me from something evil I could not know about. And why did I think that? Because on one of the lasts appointment with him he played Third Day’s Cry Out To Jesus during the office visit. Yah, that’s how I knew. I wasn’t out of my mind or anything, was I? sigh…..yes, I was. And I was because they had started gaslighting me
At the time I didn’t know what gaslighting was. But they did it like the creepers they are. It was in little things like the bosses daughter who worked answering the office phones calling out to her mom in the other room that Multicare was on the phone.
It was like finding set on a table in the office a local publication open to the page with Dr. Sargent and his staff’s photo there.
Suddenly Multicare had that picture all over the place. Multicare actually placed it on a 20′ plastic banner and hung it across the front of their building on State Street!
By the following year they even had made a standee made of it for their booth at the Cornucopia. And they came up with their ad mantra “Better Connected.”
At work, coincidentally, a couple came to me for a home refinance and, guess what? The woman was a Multicare nurse. I chalked it up to coincidence. Kind of like the Haunted House surgical room was a coincidence, too, right?
The loan being requested was not going to be easy, either. On my part it would take a lot of massaging to get it through. Meeting often, we spoke and she mentioned to me the doctor at Multicare she worked for was very good and kind. I told her I’d very much like to change doctors. I didn’t say why but the general practitioner, Dr. Chen in Kent, was telling me what a nice guy Dr. Sargent Jr. was. And that bugged me. So in November 2005, because my digestion seemed to have stopped, I went to the client’s doctor and, no, he was not nice.
Looking back, which is now a luxury, I realize he physically hurt me on purpose. My client was off work that day, and the nurse in the room knew he’d hurt me on purpose. She’d actually flinched, than sadly instructed me to get dressed.
Yes, Multicare had it in for me. That reality had not set in, so like a fool I followed that doctor’s instructions for scheduling an MRI. For the MRI I was injected with something that made my skin peel off worse than any sunburn. Thanksgiving Day 2005 was spent burnt to a crisp. By that time the Moshel family had pretty much taken me in, so I spent Thanksgiving with them. Dee told me it was just the iodine in the injection that I was allergic to. Although I’d never been allergic to iodine, I believed her. For a long time on doctor’s forms I wrote in that I had an allergy to iodine. But now I know that’s not true. Another nurse told me she thinks they’d injected chemo. Of course, to this day I don’t know what that really was. Except for me more Hell.
About the Moschel matriarch Dee, she was the retired nurse/wife of a deceased doctor who worked for many years in our town. Both of Dee’s daughters became very involved in my life just after things went crazy with Dr. Sargent. Kathryn was about 46 at the time and she’d never been married. And she told me every time she saw me with my (now ex) husband she hated me. True, she had never spoken with me in all the years I’d lived there and that was true even when she was outside talking with my (now ex) husband. If I walked up she would cut the conversation than leave. Red flags.
Even more, for some reason she tried to make me jealous. I’m not a jealous person. But when one of the doctors at Multicare left Kent to Bellevue Kathryn came over to let me know that he left her hug him to say goodbye. Also she was mad, she said, because she wanted to become Dr. Sargent’s patient but she said when she saw him he was an ass to her. Hahaha! How’s that for a busy body? More red flags. At the time I didn’t recognize them though.
However, my baptismal Godmother did. And her warning came when Kathryn suddenly asked me if she could come to church with me. In return, she said, I should go to one of her church services. I was Episcopalian, she was Methodist. Dorris, my baptismal Godmother, told me she had known Kathryn since she was just a young girl and in all those years (even while Dorris’ husband Jack was the reverend, Kathryn had NEVER been interested in going to one of their services.) Dorris told me something was seriously up with Kathryn to all of a sudden want to visit our church, and Dorris said she didn’t know what it could be but she knew Kathryn well enough to know it wasn’t good. Dorris told me to watch out.
I know I’ve told it before, but I’ll put it in this since its kind of an organizing for me of it all. And it was that Kathryn did come to church with me. She set there between Dorris and I. Dorris could not even believe it, and all the neighbors wondered. Than, of course, the following week was my turn to go to Kathryn’s church. It wasn’t a nice service like Episcopalian’s. Anyway, at the end Kathryn told me a friend of hers wanted to meet me. The friend didn’t go to her church, though, and would be waiting outside for us in the parking lot after the service. Even to me that was odd. Red flag.
So, okay, the service was over and we were almost to Kathryn’s car when she said the friend must have changed her mind about coming. Than we heard a woman’s voice call out from behind us. We were on the sidewalk, but she stayed in the gutter. She was introduced to me with a name like Jane Smith, or something close to it. I guess I’d figured it was the doctor’s mysterious wife whose wedding ring he’d quit wearing. She was kind of pretty, and didn’t really say much but hi. nice to meet you goodbye. As we walked away Kathryn told me she’s much prettier when she’s wearing make up. Like I said, I thought she was pretty as she was. Seeing pictures some years later of the doctor’s wife, she is rather a mouse. And her hair is nothing like the woman who went to the parking lot. And besides, when I saw a picture a couple of years or so later of Diane Cecchittini I knew that had been her. Than in 2012 when Kathryn was dying she let me it had been the CEO.
Later in the year the massage therapist’s where I’d been going since the wreck, who had become a friend outside her work, announced she would be going to China in December. During her absence her father (who was a partner there) offered to take care of some of her patients. If I was willing he would take care of me, too. To which I agreed. Her father was a great guy, probably about 76 or 78 years old, very professional.
Something I came to feel comfortable asking him about was the pain that persisted behind my left breast. I kind of attributed it to the accident, because its where the shoulder strap would have been across my body during the collision. Hum, I’m wondering right now why the air bag never deployed. Well, anyway, my therapist’s father told me that of course it was from the wreck. He reached his fingers into my side behind the breast and they touched exactly onto the pain. I was surprised and happy at least to know it wasn’t a figment of my imagination. Also, after the way Dr. Sargent had acted when I’d asked him, it was affirmation to me that his reaction was out line being as if I’d wanted him to touch my breast. It was coming to the point where I was questioning my intentions about everything.
To add to the affirmations, my therapist’s father told me that he knows what “they” are doing. He said “they” are trying to convince me that I was not as injured as I was. He told me in his lengthy career I was the second worst case he’d seen. The worse was an accident where the neck was almost broken, too, but not. He explained the fascia, and told me the other guy’s was so torn his fascia had slipped off from around his head and down onto the bottom of his neck. His job was to continue massaging back the fascia until it could be healing. He told me as torn as mine was would take years to heal but would probably bother me in one way or another for the rest of my life. That was in December 2005. He told me not to listen to the insurance company or to anyone else trying to make me think I’m lying or that I don’t know. Because he and his daughter do. He said its bad and if I’m stressed out it will slow down recovery. I had what is called very deep tissue injuries.
As therapy went my massage therapist’s father and I chatted it up, and it came to be that he shared with me about his past when he’d actually had the job to meet a Russian spy in Iceland. There he exchanged for the government $1,000,000 for the Russian plans of a tank. Wow, for sure he was no slouch. He shared other stories, too, of intrigue so, of course, I considered him very trustworthy. And he was.
An amusing thing he did one day was out of nowhere he told me that I am one of the most beautiful women he’d ever known. He wasn’t coming onto me, either. He was being genuine. I know the difference. He told me like a father like figure (me being close to the same age as his daughter.) He said he was sure nobody had ever told me because I don’t act like I think I am beautiful. And he thought that was sad. And he was right. Nobody had ever told me that. I’d always thought I was rather homily, actually. He told me he just thought I needed to know, because not only did he think I was beautiful on the outside but he also thought I was even more beautiful on the inside.
With all I was going through, true to word, nobody had been kind to me to say that in all my life. So his words were like a breath of fresh air. And one day, after my therapist had returned from China, as if to drive it home, right in front of her and everyone else he said it again. He wanted to say it in front of everyone so that they could tell me too. Because he still didn’t think I believed him, and he wanted them to tell me too. And they did. They all agreed with him that I was beautiful inside and out.
But the creepers were already moving in on me.
Now I’m crying again.
I need to take a break.