mistyridge5
Member
25 messages
joined Jan 2012
I’m reading this, looking at it all, and I honestly can’t believe my eyes.🙄
I am over in this section of the forum—the one where patients and their families or friends connect. It’s the place where I finally came to terms with certain things and decided to step in once the "race against cancer" was already well behind me (specifically, regarding my mother). I’m here in a thread where, from today’s perspective and facing new challenges, I’m trying to offer advice, support, or even just ask for it myself if I can.
In a space where everyone helps one another by sharing information, products, medications, vitamins, teas, personal experiences, phone numbers, and names.
And then someone just wanders into a place like this, bursts in, and starts accusing everyone of spreading lies or badmouthing doctors and the healthcare system...🙄
Where does this idea come from—that everything has to be about money?
When you spend years drifting through hospitals, waiting rooms, and various wards, you see a lot; you hear a lot. I’ve watched people around me try to get ahead using those exact methods even ten years ago. Bundles of cash, expensive bottles of liquor, sudden influxes of money, fine art, or extravagant bouquets.
Those very same doctors who, just a few years back, were striking at a major metropolitan hospital over hours and pay—the ones I actually stood up for, because I truly believed they deserved better opportunities—were, shortly after, being escorted out of operating rooms, crossing themselves and shouting, causing a dramatic scene that triggered a heart attack in a beloved member of my family. These same doctors and nurses refused to give my mom her medication; older women weren't receiving chemo back then; we were brushed off at the ER, and nurses would tell us we were making things up.
So, am I badmouthing them now? Am I attacking the system? Or am I simply stating things as they are, sharing the bad experiences my mother and I went through?
And no, I’m not uneducated, nor is anyone in my family. And yes, we asked questions. We requested official decisions, but the doctors took offense when we mentioned seeking a second opinion—they basically told us that if we were going to act like that, we might as well stay in New York City instead of rushing there. We asked, "How serious is this? What is needed? What happens next?" There were no answers.
And do you know how patients figured things out? They knew by the room number they were assigned to. By that cursed room number, you could tell if the end was near or not—whether there was still hope left or if the light had finally gone out. Because, as it turns out, we were constantly waiting for test results to come back.
What you wrote is incredibly sad. Truly.