i wonder if their inflections are all the same, the doctors that know everything, that assume you’ll be quelled by their, “I studied at Yale!” when you midwived goats at nine using only encyclopedia “G.” medicine isn’t just memorization & test scores~ intuition and patterning go a long way.

and it’s not that i know everything but ive been living in this body for 50 years & already see who this doctor is: that dismissive look, that annoyed foot tap, the interruptive monotonous diatribes, asking what ive already answered, the glazed-over eyes that show he is effectively blind.

this one’s ears are full of thoughts of how long until he gets off.

he doesn’t even know my name. he tells my kid, “she must not be taking her meds,” when kid asks why my glucose was high, instead of the logical “probably the nausea, not eating and steroid shot she mentioned. we’re going to check into that.”

i consider this a woeful acknowledgment of his own mean ego: he is dr and all else are dumb. ive told him no 3 times to morphine & he still orders some, it goes without saying hes trying to shut me up. wonder if he does that with everyone? i diagnose him as: expansive rectum.

i can hear the ticking tone of his voice, the one that says he’s been lying to himself for so long about how it all works that he no longer even knows truth exists. many are like this, not all. very rarely have i personally witnessed the Oliver Sacks medicinal approach, and this one is certainly not awakened.

i remember how after i was born, they diagnosed my mother with hysterics. she didn’t give up for years, begging for help & the clicking and clucking tones never changed, not even when they found an eight pound tumor in her womb. they still thought they knew better, they still thought they alone were gods. it was still somehow “her fault.” as if being too poor in this imbalanced world to get adequate health care was a choice. as if our health care isn’t dysfunctional, fragmented and bloated with corruption, so very far off-course from understanding how everything connects.

of course, i forgive: he knows not what he does. should i tell him in kindness or wait til he overlooks someone else, someone who can’t easily speak up? his ego bristles at kind so i tell him thx for wasting my time, bye.

so okay ill chill ill, figure it out, get another appointment with someone who isn’t more concerned about profits than patients, churning people out with pink Barbie bandaids instead of actual follow-though.

then i get my own bloodwork that he didn’t bother to review, i had to ask for & …fuck. i knew the glucose was symptomatic, not root cause. and its similarly elevated to the same bloodwork from the same facility that never bothered to pass it on… three months ago. they never told me. they never even sent an email with lab results. he didn’t even bother to check comparative lab history. it’s not that hard

im getting angry again because the world is sick and the reason is staring at us in the faces and we all turn our heads looking away, breaking our own necks.

i print a sign with “negligent” on it, wave it around a bit.

nobody notices.

i wonder if their inflections are all the same, the doctors that know everything, that assume you’ll be quelled by their, “I studied at Yale!” when you midwived goats at nine using only encyclopedia “G.” medicine isn’t just memorization & test scores~ intuition and patterning go a long way.

and it’s not that i know everything but ive been living in this body for 50 years & already see who this doctor is: that dismissive look, that annoyed foot tap, the interruptive monotonous diatribes, asking what ive already answered, the glazed-over eyes that show he is effectively blind.

this one’s ears are full of thoughts of how long until he gets off.

he doesn’t even know my name. he tells my kid, “she must not be taking her meds,” when kid asks why my glucose was high, instead of the logical “probably the nausea, not eating and steroid shot she mentioned. we’re going to check into that.”

i consider this a woeful acknowledgment of his own mean ego: he is dr and all else are dumb. ive told him no 3 times to morphine & he still orders some, it goes without saying hes trying to shut me up. wonder if he does that with everyone? i diagnose him as: expansive rectum.

i can hear the ticking tone of his voice, the one that says he’s been lying to himself for so long about how it all works that he no longer even knows truth exists. many are like this, not all. very rarely have i personally witnessed the Oliver Sacks medicinal approach, and this one is certainly not awakened.

i remember how after i was born, they diagnosed my mother with hysterics. she didn’t give up for years, begging for help & the clicking and clucking tones never changed, not even when they found an eight pound tumor in her womb. they still thought they knew better, they still thought they alone were gods. it was still somehow “her fault.” as if being too poor in this imbalanced world to get adequate health care was a choice. as if our health care isn’t dysfunctional, fragmented and bloated with corruption, so very far off-course from understanding how everything connects.

of course, i forgive: he knows not what he does. should i tell him in kindness or wait til he overlooks someone else, someone who can’t easily speak up? his ego bristles at kind so i tell him thx for wasting my time, bye.

so okay ill chill ill, figure it out, get another appointment with someone who isn’t more concerned about profits than patients, churning people out with pink Barbie bandaids instead of actual follow-though.

then i get my own bloodwork that he didn’t bother to review, i had to ask for & …fuck. i knew the glucose was symptomatic, not root cause. and its similarly elevated to the same bloodwork from the same facility that never bothered to pass it on… three months ago. they never told me. they never even sent an email with lab results. he didn’t even bother to check comparative lab history. it’s not that hard

im getting angry again because the world is sick and the reason is staring at us in the faces and we all turn our heads looking away, breaking our own necks.

i print a sign with “negligent” on it, wave it around a bit.

nobody notices.