I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

Sorry, after seeing the photo (I'll let you decide which one I mean), I couldn't resist one last lampoon at David Tennant's expense.

YOU FILL IN THE BLANK:

WARNING: This is a post about my experiences with bad doctors. It contains some frank and somewhat intimate discussions. If you are adverse to that, please don't bother reading this post.

I was reading a fellow blogger's post, where she stated that she was "sick of" people suing doctor's for mistakes and "fondling women's breasts."

Really? Since when are doctors and nurses and PA's Gods?

When did they get to be perfect little human beings?

Oh gosh, yes. There's some wonderful medical people out there---most of them, actually.

But, lawsuits happen for a reason, most of the time. Nowadays, doctors are under a lot of pressure. They make mistakes, and sometimes those mistakes are stupid one's, that can cost someone--needlessly--his or her life.

To pass that off as not important, is to be incredibly naive...frighteningly so.

Trivial lawsuits are stupid, yes. Unfortunately, there's some greedy people out there, who would rather get rich from a lawsuit, than from their own efforts.

But, while there's some fantastic medical personnel out there...there's also a portion of those who are just...dross.

I've had several bad experiences with medical "professionals." While 80% of the care I've gotten, over the years, has been terrific, the other 20% has...let's not sugarcoat it...it's not been good.

My late mum would talk about how, when I was less than a year old, I'd gotten horribly ill. This was at a time when doctor's in the USA still made housecalls (the practice was stopped in the late 60's). She rang up my baby doctor, but he refused to see me--he was busy playing golf, apparently. She found another doctor--Doctor Stewart, a nice man and a good doctor--who diagnosed me with scarlet fever. This was at a time where ambulance service and emergency rooms were still fairly rare, so the first port of call for parents, was usually having the doctor call to the house.

My first truly negative experience with a doctor, was when I was roughly around 18 years old. I had a doctor at the public health center, who, every time I went to see him--for whatever reason, would ask me to disrobe so he could examine my breasts. One time I was ill, and went to see him three times in one week--and all three times he fondled my breasts. Now, that made me very, very, uncomfortable. Especially so, being a previous victim of a pedophile. I never said anything to anyone about it, though, because I didn't want to get the doctor in trouble--and, I suppose, I felt--since my first bad experience at age 9 was pushed under the carpet, a dirty little secret--that no one would take my worries seriously. I merely changed doctors. This doctor was later convicted of sexually molesting a 10 year old girl, one year later. If I had spoken up, if I had sued the SOB, maybe that little girl wouldn't have had to go through what I did, at her age--what I continue to go through nearly 40 years later.

In my mid-30's, I was sent to a gynecologist for the first time. I've never gone back to one, ever since. The doctor got upset with me, because he couldn't do the exam, because...well, I was a virgin, and hadn't been...well, you know...and, he did hurt me--a lot. But, that's not why I never went back...I won't go back, ever, because the man--this "doctor," ridiculed me. He got all snarky and tempermental and--literally, told me to leave, since I "seemed to have a problem with men touching me." (said very sarcastically). All I did was say ouch and squirm--I never said a word--I swear, about not liking men touching me (actually, I love a good hug). That doctor made me feel stupid, small and hum8iliated. And, because I refused to address any further "female" issues---I nearly died, last year, because of an untreated problem. Maybe if I had said something--spoken to a lawyer or the medical board--maybe I wouldn't be sick like I am now. But again, I didn't feel that I would be taken seriously. Frankly, I'm not someone people tend to listen to.

In my early 40's I had a fantastic doctor--Dr. Singh, and he asked me one day, if I'd ever been treated for my diabeates. I had no clue what he was talking about. Turns out, my previous doctor had had me tested, and it came out positive--but that doctor had never bothered to tell me the results--not ever!

Well, I think trival suits are a bad thing--but what other recourse do some people have? The reality is, there ARE bad health professionals out there. Rich or poor, fit or fat, it doesn't always matter (tho' the poor and the fat do sometimes seem to get the brunt of bad behaviour).

SOMETHING I WROTE IN MY JOURNAL, A FEW WEEKS BACK.

This past spring a dear friend very kindly gifted me with a Best of Kylie CD. Many of my UK and European friends seemed genuinely surprised when I mentioned that, before Voyage of the Damned, I’d never even heard of Kylie Minogue. In fact, the only Minogue that I knew of, was the name of a local wholesale beverage centre here in Glens Falls, NY.

Most people in the north country probably don’t know who she is, either. They listen to other stuff, mostly. The people in my office, for instance, seem to be about 50/50 between country and hard rock/metal, with a few “oldies’ (50’s to 80’s pop) fans thrown in, for good measure. So far, I’ve not found a soul out of some 25 or 30 people in my office, who know who Kylie is. We’ve got several Doctor Who fans, but sorry Kyile, you’re a largely unknown quantity in Glens Falls. But then, you can’t find much of the music one would hear on, say Radio One or Virgin, here in New York’s northern region. We’ve got bear and moose once in a rare while, wandering around the car park of our only shopping mall, but a Kylie CD? Nope.

That’s a NO as well to the Kaiser Chief’s, the La’s, the New Pornographers, The Proclaimers, and many other artists popular in the UK that I enjoy listening to. Actually, there is no music store in the Aviation Mall, any longer. There’s all of one music store left in all of the Glens Falls area, FYE in the Queensbury Plaza. Oh, you can go to the chain stores, like Target, Wal-Mart and K-mart, but their selection is a bit…bleh. Not that I can afford to buy CD’s. Mostly I used to listen to internet radio. At the time of writing this though (early May), I’m still internet-less at home, five months on. I have a mobile now, though (Same friend who sent me the Kylie CD, blessed me with a phone). Big relief that. I got tired of walking ten minutes to a pay phone--and having no phone available whatsoever between 11pm and 6am. What-a-drag..and a worry, what with my unpredictable health, of late.

But, I can tell you, old Kylie (or is it young Kylie?) wouldn’t have to worry about paparazzi and screaming fans in my part of the world. (Does she have these worries? Beats me.) In fact, most artists popular in the UK would mostly be un-bothered. People in my area aren’t overly fazed by most celebs. From what I’m told, John Travolta and Paul Newman come and go all the time up here, and pretty much everyone leaves em’ to it. In fact, I bet that 95% of the celebrities in the UK/Europe, could come to my part of the world, and no one would take any notice of him or her, whatsoever.

Anyway, back to Kylie. This is my first exposure to her music, and I’m thoroughly enjoying most of what I’m hearing. I go and sit out on my little balcony with the cats on a nice day, and look down on the traffic going by on Glen Street, look at my pansies blowing in the wind, the sparkle of my little copper and blue glass wind chimes, gaze at the sky and trees and birds, and just really enjoy myself. What can I say? I’m easily amused, these days. Well…it’s not like I have a choice, ha-ha. I’m pretty much super-glued to Glens Falls, NY. Might as well enjoy myself, ey?

Though, truth-to-tell, as much as I love living in the north country, sometimes I watch a Europe-bound jet, high in the northwestern sky, leaving its contrail over the hundreds of miles of our blue Adirondack lakes and endless green forests, and wish I was on that plane. The land here may be green for miles on end, but, the grass is always greener on the other side of the big pond, ha-ha.

Well, I'm done lampooning David Tennant for the day, and am going back into a more sober topic, now, I suppose.

I had some really awful dreams, last night. i won't go into them, but they were very disturbing. Whether it was from my illness, or the remnant's of the last 6 month's of constant anxiety/fear, I do not know.

As I've written before, I don't think I'll ever fully recover, after this last flirtation with near-homelessness. I'm trying, really I am. But...it's sort of like trying to extricate oneself from quicksand with only a piece of twine to pull yourself out with.

I can't help that niggling little worry in the back of mind mind, the slightly paranoid thought that at any moment, this current trend towards getting a tiny bit of my life back, is going to end. Basically, I sort of waiting for the other shoe to drop

My life these last two years has been nothing but a constant set of uncertainties, with little tiny patches of semi-normalcy squeezed in-between. It’s not an existence which fosters confidence. On the contrary, after five years of college in my early to mid-forties, I sometimes felt like I could take on the world. Now, after two years of dealing with grief and loss and the continual specter of my worst nightmare, I feel...cast adrift, lost, even.

I’m like a single autumn leaf, brown and brittle from the frost, falling into the stream of life, being carried whichever way the current takes me.

Oh, that’s just too… poetic--or do I mean pathetic? Okay, my usual blunt American version: I’m a mess, alright?

I’ve been tripping over the edge of homelessness, of the utter devastation of all that I have left in life which I hold dear, pretty much every few months, it seems, since the winter of 2005. I just get a toehold to get back on my feet, and something comes along to trip me up again. From the loss of my home, to unemployment and lost jobs, lost of my car (in rural America, with little or--most often, no public transport, that translates into lost independence), lay-off’s and pay cuts, eviction, health issues (in the US, a health issue is also usually a major monetary issue), and having my wages garnished by one of my student lenders. I can barely get my breath!

So, even when something nice happens, or my finances stabilize somewhat, I’m still looking fearfully over my shoulder, worrying when the other shoe will drop, when the next bad thing will happen. I try to tell myself to calm down, to just carry on and put the negatives behind me and move forward---but, these things I’m feeling, these fears…it’s not like a faucet, that can be turned on and off at will, you know?

I’ve been blessed with a few lovely friends, whom have helped to see me through some very hard times--even to the point of saving me from doing something ridiculously stupid. I have learned to come to grips--mostly, with spending the rest of my life, physically alone. To never again cook for anyone, or to share a conversation over dinner, or to go out shopping or to some event with someone you enjoy being around--I’ve learned to live with that. But, the thought of not being able to be independent, to not be able to support myself, on even the most basic level--that defeats me. It’s shaken me to my very foundations, realizing how horrible vulnerable I am, what a slave I’ve become to my often very limited income, and how chained I am to the increasing burden of massive debts.

No one plans on going into debt, but the road that leads to poverty is like a chain-reaction accident on a foggy motorway--it too often comes to you with little or no warning. All it takes is one devastating event: job loss, illness, social problems, divorce, a personal tragedy, a legal problem…any number of reasons. Truth is, some obstacles you can dodge around, and sometimes, no matter which way you turn, or how hard you try, things pile up on top of one another too fast for you to recover. At that point, there’s just no avoiding crashing into debt so deep, that the only way you’re ever getting out is to win the lottery or die. How hard you crash depends, of course, on the size of the barrier you’ve encountered. Some debts are like hitting a mini, and some are a tanker full of petrol--Whoom! One inch too far, and you’re screwed for life.

Poverty and/or ill health is easier to bear, when there’s someone there in your life to share it with--even if that person cannot help you, you know that at least that person is there to give you a hug, or stay with you, when you feel trapped, or afraid or alone. And, after a while, you lose not only your sense of security, you begin to lose your sense of self, as well. You begin to withdraw from the world, inside yourself, where its safe. And, you do your best to cope, but still, hovering over you is that invisible black cloud that always seems ready to rain on you, when you least expect it.

In a recent publicity still, David Tennant shows off his chicken legs, erm--his manly legs...and a bit of thigh, as well.

I do think he looks much better in women's hosiery.

Started writing a new story, this week--inspired by the beginnings of our three-month long tourist season, here in New York's north country. I wrote the first couple of line's the other night, then I was up sick late last night, and finished chapters one and two. Actually I wrote chapter two, before chapter one.

Really, I was initially toying with a story about the Doctor's apparent lack of nose hairs, but decided to do this one, instead. What can I say? I'm odd.

Don't know if you'll like it, but I had this idea, what if these aliens were going around the countryside on holiday, and whenever they wanted snack, instead of pulling in at the nearest McDonald's drive-thru, or having a picnic, what if they simply picked up stranded tourists and hitch-hiker's to snack on?

Well, I don't know if it works, but here goes:

Doctor Who: Dark Holiday (working title)

by

Nancy G.

(4th June, 2008)

Doctor Who is copyright of the British Broadcasting Corporation. All rights reserved.

CHAPTER ONE

I'll be posting chapters as I write them (still trying to work out the plot) on my new fan-fic blog: wwww.davidtennantsdoctor.wordpress.com/