If you right-click on the link below, this should open the video, which will play a brief TV clip that was on TV yesterday at 5pm. I don’t have a TV but I was going to try to stream it.
I didn’t happen to see it. Lou Pelletier, Justina Pelletier’s dad, was on the Glenn Beck show. I saw the clip just now. I bawled. I’ll tell you exactly why in a sec.
First of all, yesterday, for much of the day, I was sick in bed, and I’ve been PHYSICALLY ill for the past month.
I turned 56 years old January 8 and thanked my lucky stars I was still alive. I figured anything would be better than the hell I went through last year, especially the part last summer when I was abused on the medical floor of a hospital.
Two days following my birthday, just over a month ago, that is, January 10th, I attended the protest outside of the courthouse in Boston regarding 15-year-old Justina Pelletier, a girl from Connecticut who is currently being medically abused by our powerful Massachusetts hospitals. I sure as hell know that abuse very, very well and the power these institutions have.
(It amuses me now to look back and recall a comment I saw on Facebook. The sign I held at the protest said, “Never, ever shut up.” Someone remarked that they liked the sign “that boy” was holding. Funny, I can laugh now…I am a rather petite woman and boy’s attire is inexpensive, durable, and actually fits. I guess at a distance I can be mistaken for a kid.)
I came home from the protest totally beat, freezing cold, desperately thirsty, with a ripping headache and searing stomach pain. All I wanted to do was to immediately warm up as much as I could, get water into me, and lie down. Within ten minutes, though, I was the victim of a hate crime. I’ve clearly been profiled by people that should know better. There has been further “hate” type persecution in the month that followed since then.
I’m under an awful lot of stress. I’m exhausted. Just plain sick and exhausted.
Now I know some you that are reading these words are regular blog readers and some are here for the first time….
Let me explain. I’ll tell you I cried to hear Lou Pelletier speak of what his daughter Justina is now going through.
Perhaps it was hardest to hear the part that they put her on the toilet and then…
Because I myself recall the same. Back in summer 2013, that is, last August….Mount Auburn Hospital, not far from here, on a medical floor, in fact, one of the godawful noisiest places I’ve ever been…..
After I had been suffering malnutrition and had so much trouble putting my thoughts together as a result…then all that endless diarrhea coming out of me…they had me on the toilet and even when the diarrhea stopped, when there was nothing more, when I lay back down upon the bed, my own life continued to come out of me. My life rapidly drained out of me and it didn’t matter what bodily position I was in. That rush of diarrhea was only a symbol. In fact, it was a beautiful symbol to me.
I am a writer and I understand symbol and meaning. Even in my dementia-like state, I totally “got it.” Instinctively, I knew somehow, I was near death.
And those untrained, unfeeling “sitters” had the nerve to watch me, to criticize me, to invade that very private space I desperately needed, that one moment, while I sat on the toilet. Even then, when by law, I should have been left alone, they stood there and jeered at me. When I finally insisted that by law, they had to leave me alone in that bathroom, those sitters were verbally abusive, invasive, and rude.
I was physically shoved a number of times by one sitter. Another grabbed my phone, that is, the corded phone I was paying out of pocket for, and used it as if it were her own private phone continuously for the whole shift. Almost all of them bossed me around. Most blasted my TV, which in fact was right next to my left ear as I lay in the bed, and the constant flickering light of that darned TV above me was rather annoying. (People who regularly watch TV are unaware that TV’s have a constant high-pitched buzz sound and a constant visual flashing on and off of bright lights, which non-TV-watchers find extremely annoying.) Almost all “sitters” were verbally abusive. Almost all treated me with gross disrespect and invaded my privacy far too much. A small minority were kind and deserve a lot of credit.
Since I was so thin, I could hardly get the johnnies to cover me, and the ones the hospital had were missing the necessary ties and snaps. When I asked for one that wasn’t missing a tie or snap, if the “sitter” could understand English at all, I got yelled at, if not, I got yelled at. Some nurse would come in and tell me what a nuisance I was. The doctors would come and tell me I was a liar, or that they didn’t want to hear my complaints, that it was some other person’s place to hear such things. Then, I’d get threatened, and I was told I was “dangerous.” I wasn’t even suicidal and it took them over a week before someone even listened and took those abusive sitters away. They had never been necessary. I was doomed to spend another month incarcerated on a psych ward, but I got out of it cuz they couldn’t justify sending someone there who wasn’t even suicidal, and wasn’t psychotic. All I needed was food, and I told them I could eat just fine at home with my little dog.
Today, I am alive.
I am scared to death of anything resembling a hospital or stretcher or the sound of a siren.
Here’s the clip. As I said, right-click on it to get it to open in a separate tab.