I haven't been idle since Matthew did his little stunt on Monday. I filed two complaints with two different departments at Barts and the London. I also filed a separate complaint with the General Medical Council. And I'm not finished yet.
For the four years Matt has been my immunologist (not necessarily a willing one, but I fired Hilary so he didn't exactly have a choice), he has threatened and bullied me, and told me that if I say anything against his colleagues (the cripplers), he would throw me out of the immunology department into the community, and I would be left to fend for myself. He did that on Monday-deliberately, maliciously, viciously, very unprofessionally, and with intent to hurt me. And he failed-spectacularly.
Matt Buckland (I don't need to put his name in caps, because everyone now knows who he is-or, should I say, what he is) actually set me free. I wanted to leave the immunology department at the Royal London for the last five years. But for the first three of those years I was so badly physically damaged by the gentamicin poisoning that I could barely stand up, let alone start looking for an ethical doctor-one who wouldn't either cripple me or kill me. So I stayed, knowing that as soon as I was able I would start looking for someone I could trust. Matt beat me to the punch: he took the choke-hold off my throat, took off the handcuffs, and took the duct tape off my mouth. He'd threatened me for years, but now I could tell the truth. And tell the truth is exactly what I did. Too bad if he and the other three cripplers don't like it; it's time that everyone everywhere know what these creatures really are: monsters who do and say exactly what they want with impunity, without being held accountable to anyone. And I want that to stop.
I couldn't speak out publicly-but I could start a blog, which I did as soon as I could actually sit in front of a computer and type with two fingers, trying hard to get those two fingers to do what my brain was telling them to do. That was - very tough to do, but I had to do it.
I spoke with someone from one of those hospital departments, and told that person that Matt Buckland was threatening, bullying, intimidating, had (and has) severe mood swings, has temper tantrums, and outbursts of vicious anger-and in front of patients, too. I said that he takes out his inadequacies and frustrations on his patients, is like a petulant child, and should leave all that stuff at home. When a consultant comes in to see a patient, he (or she) should be professional, and listen to the patient, and try to provide help and support. A bad day? Want to let off steam, shout and threaten? Do it elsewhere, not in the clinic. Buckland is unbalanced and vicious, and should not be allowed anywhere near a patient. I said all this to the person in charge, and now the formal complaint is really formal. Even if no action is taken by the hospital, these complaints will go on Buckland's record. The man is dangerously unstable. He's really just dangerous.
I also uploaded my first ever video to YouTube last night. It took me hours to practice saying what I wanted, and I don't think the video is great, but it tells the story. And my goodness, those smartphone cameras might be good for shooting all kinds of things, but I was sitting in front of it and I look like I am a hundred years old. Yikes! I don't need breast reconstruction, I need a facelift! LOL. I did ask Steve the last time I saw him if, since he's more or less in the area, he could do a bit of liposuction on the hips and a nip and tuck on the face. He just burst out laughing.But he has a sense of humor-and for me, I would like a consultant with a sense of humor, not someone who has a tantrum at nothing.
So if you go to YouTube and key in "crippled by hospital incompetence" you will see me. I'm the one with the cap (cancer medication causes hair loss. So a cap it is, until I'm off the medication and my hair grows back. My nod to a little vanity).
Do I hate the cripplers? No I don't. I call them the cripplers because that is exactly what they are-and they know, as I know, that if they had taken the plugs out of their ears and listened to me, and had stopped the gentamicin when I told them to, all this could have been avoided. So they will forever be called the cripplers. I've called them a lot worse in the past five years.
In the beginning, when I couldn't get out of bed, or wash myself, or dress myself, or turn my head without feeling sick-or read a book, or use the computer, or do-well, anything by myself-I felt hatred and betrayal, and bitterness, and fear (fear that I would never get better). But I was able to channel those feelings into doing the vestibular exercises, into doing every movement that made me really dizzy, into walking and falling down, getting up and walking some more. I hated them, but every time I felt the frustration of not improving quickly enough, the hatred pushed me forward. When I wanted to give up, I remembered that Longhurst, Bright and Grigoriadou didn't give a damn. They were obvious about that, too. They left me there to rot. I wonder how many other people have been crippled by these doctors' incompetence-and how many have died because of them. I wonder how many will be damaged or killed before these monsters retire. The mind boggles. And when I was ready to quit, I just told myself that I'm damned if I am going to let these monsters win. No way will I let them win. So I kept getting up, and falling over, and getting up again. I was that determined.
Two years ago, I discovered that I had breast cancer, and that I would need a double mastectomy. This, on top of everything else-very disheartening. But I decided that, since I could die, I wasn't going to die with hatred for anyone in my heart. We all know how destructive and debilitating hatred, bitterness, anger, feelings of betrayal-all really toxic emotions, toxic to the body and the spirit. So I told myself that if I survived cancer I was going to have to dig very deep, work very hard, but let go of all those feelings. I knew that Buckland and his little mates didn't give a rat's patootie, and continuing to grieve for my loss and wish that things had been different wouldn't help either my chances of survival or my ability to love and enjoy life. And up to that time I hadn't enjoyed anything. I was too immersed in trying to survive, and trying not to fall down and give myself a skull fracture.
Writing this blog, doing a journal, these helped tremendously. I also reached the point where I could start to read a book without my eyes going all over (a symptom of vestibular destruction is nystagmus, where the eyes jump around and won't stay in one place), and I began to research neuroplasticity, and I came to the conclusion that, since the brain will create new neural pathways when old ones are destroyed, there would be a chance that I would recover, even if that recovery was partial rather than total. So I worked harder.
I struggled with having to go into the Grahame Hayton Unit at the Royal London for my immunoglobulin infusions. I struggled with having to interact with Matt Buckland, knowing that he couldn't care less about my feelings about this whole thing. I asked him once whether he cared how I felt, and he said that he couldn't care less (his exact words), and the only thing he wanted was to know any symptoms dealing with immunology.Chest infections, presence of pseudomonas or any other bugs, that he wanted to hear, but nothing more.
I have other consultants-and you know their names, because I have talked about them before. They are the consultants who have honestly, integrity, who want to help their patients. They treat me like I am an adult, and they treat me with dignity and respect, unlike the cripplers, who treat their patients like they are something someone stepped in. Everyone else gives me the hope that there are other competent, skilled, kind, compassionate, decent human beings, who have become consultants because they want to help people. The cripplers clearly want to help themselves. My other consultants are professional, and act professional (not having tantrums like a two year old, and not behaving spitefully and viciously with a view to placing their patients lives at risk). Sean, Lieske, Aziz, Tan, Skinner, Davies, Steve- I go and see them and I can relax, because I know they have my best interests at heart. Longhurst, Bright, Grigoriadou, Buckland-they don't have anyone's interests at heart except their own.
We all need to decide what we want in a consultant, and we all need to start opening our mouths if people like the cripplers treat us with contempt, disrespect, derision, condescension. People here don't speak up, and when they don't speak up-and out-they are abused by the monsters. They act dismissively? Tell them you will report them. The General Medical Council won't do anything, because doctors are investigating doctors, and we all know how successful that is(n't). But if enough patients complain, then these people are forced to start looking at the bad doctors-and that is the only way to get rid of them: complain to the GMC, to your MP, to your councillor, to your GP, to the media, to anyone who will listen and spread the word. Fight back!!!
I am relentless in my desire for justice-not only for myself, but for anyone who is or has been the victim of dishonest doctors. I look at my consultants (and I'm sure they won't mind that I've named them, since I trust them and hold them in the highest regard), and the difference between them and the cripplers is the difference between-hmmm, let me work this out-okay, between roses and dog poo. I'll take the roses every time. Wouldn't you?
I want to ensure that the cripplers know that I will not back down, and that they have finally been named and shamed. I want them to know that everyone at Barts-in fact, everyone everywhere-knows what they have done, and how shameful they should feel (even though they don't). I want the four cripplers to know that they are being watched-that everything they do and say is being scrutinized, that people are just waiting for them to make a big enough mistake so they can be called up on ethics charges-and threatened to be dismissed (if not struck off in due course). I want them to know how disgusted all the decent doctors, nurses, patients, administrators-and members of the public-people are with them, especially with Buckland's dangerous and spiteful actions on Monday.
Really, I want the four to be so uncomfortable that they either change their behavior or get out. I know the perfect job for all of them, one that fits their personalities, their ability to deal with people, and their intellect.They wouldn't have to talk to anyone (no change there). They would only need to be able to utter the five magic words:
"you want fries with that?"
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