In My Not So Humble Opinion

Archive for the ‘Rant’ Category

I discovered another Politically Correct term today: Ableism. It was made up sometime between 1985 and 1990. According to dictionary.com, Ableism is discrimination against disabled people.

I’m against discriminating against disabled people. I think everyone has the right to work, take care of themselves, and be a productive part of society. What I am against is the way some people turn every word, every phrase, and any imagined act into an act of discrimination.

A website called Disabled Feminists takes issue with the word lame. According to the Urban Dictionary, “lame” has a lot of definitions, only one of which means “a person who can’t walk.” The political correctness cops don’t care about that. They want to grip the original definition in a language vise, and force people to only use that word when referring to someone who can’t walk. Which confuses me, because we’re not supposed to use the word lame or disabled, either, so what is the fuzzy term we can use? I think a few years ago it was otherwise-abled, or handi-capable, but those are probably not in fashion anaymore.

From the thread:

“It’s a bit unclear when people started using the word in the context of events/situations/objects, although it appears to have started around the 18th century.”

So, is this the evolution of language, or 300 years of oppression? I’m saying the former.

Find me one instance within the past 10 years where the word has been used in common conversation to mean a person who can’t walk.

“This usage is highly divorced from its origin and needs to stop.”

Words evolve over time. In American English, many words have evolved from their original usage. To use words only as defined when they originated will remove the color and variety that make up the American English language.

“Weak” is ableist because weakness is part and parcel of some disabilities.”

Perhaps they mean weak, as in weak tea. (definition: deficient in the essential or usual properties or ingredients). Using that definition, there is no way that calling something else weak is ableist.

“Political Correctness” is the practice of censoring all the words that certain groups don’t want the rest of society to use in any way. More and more, people are concerned that anything and everything they say will bring down the wrath of the political correctness enforcers. Whether anyone was really insulted, or hurt by the words doesn’t matter. The language cops want us all to only think and speak in politically-approved ways.

There are certainly words that are meant to be perjorative, and were from first use. We should avoid those. But what about words that were never meant to harm, that some group has decided are harmful, because they want them to be ?

Should we all speak in Olde English. Should words only be used in their most literal definition, even if that word has multiple definitions? Should we shun every one who speaks differently from us, and embrace only those who speak exactly the way we do, and have the same values and prejudices? Yes, prejudices. Because choosing to be offended by the word usage of others, and expecting them to act as we wish, is a definite prejudice.

I have a disability. I don’t define myself by it. Being self-focused, and insulted every time someone uses a word that can be remotely related to my disability is a waste of time and energy. I have challenges I work with and through, and am more interested in associating with people I like who also like me. The more I call attention to our differences, the more negative attention I receive, and the more uncomfortable others become.

Lighten up. Relax. I choose to embrace the evolution of language, and stop looking for offense where none is truly given. If everyone chose to do the same, we’d no longer have to ask, “Can’t we all just get along?”

I love the double-speak Microsoft gives in their updates, like they’re just looking out for the little guy:

Office Genuine Advantage Notifications is part of Microsoft’s effort to reduce software piracy. Installing this software will help confirm that the copy of Office install on this computer is genuine and properly licensed. If the copy of Office installed on the computer is not genuine, the software will provide periodic reminders to help you take appropriate action and protect yourself from security threats posed by counterfeit software.

More information for this update can be found at http://www.microsoft.com/genuine/

That’s awesome, isn’t it? They just want to protect me from the security threats posed by counterfeit software. How big of them. It’s not like they put this on every computer running their software so they can find pirates and grab every cent that’s due them.

I’m not saying that Micro$haft doesn’t deserve to be paid. They provide an adequate product for the most part, and most people use it, like it or not. Making money means they get to make more minor improvements and release more versions of their product at inflated prices so they can make some more minor improvements and release more versions of their product at even further inflated prices.

I don’t use pirated software. I buy what I need from legitimate resellers. And I find it really insulting that, in order to use the software I’ve paid for, I have to let them install all this stuff that just really says, “We don’t trust you, and we’re doing everything in our power to watch your every move.”

Hey Micro$lop, stop telling me it’s for my own protection. Be honest and say you’re watching your own bottom line. You’re installing your little piece of spyware to make sure I don’t steal from you. The double-speak makes me trust  you even less than you trust me. Treat me like a criminal in my own home, and all those OpenSource (and free) tools keep looking better every day.

I just looked in here to see how long it’s been since I posted. Seven months. Wow. It’s been a long, long time. As I share, briefly, my journey between the last post and this one, I hope it helps at least one other person. Maybe that person will be you, or someone you love. It might even save a life. I hope so. This is not a light-hearted post, so if you’re looking for a smile, you’ll want to leave now.

Two days after I made my last post, I was poisoned. Not deliberately, or with malice (as far as I know). I was poisoned by an incompetent, worthless excuse for a doctor. She was my doctor for a couple of years, so she knew me and my history. She knew all the medications I was on. They were written into the chart every time I saw her. Nevertheless, she prescribed a drug that is NEVER supposed to be prescribed at the same time as one I had been taking for years. When she prescribed the new drug, I asked her specifically about interactions. She said not to worry; there were none.

She was very wrong. That one error, and the errors she compounded on top of that one nearly killed me. Literally and completely.

Over the course of the next 2 1/2 months, the new medication slowly increased the blood level of the original medication to a dangerous, and then critical level. I went back to see her several times complaining of extreme fatigue. She ordered a sleep study, and then a CPAP machine. It didn’t help, because the sleep problem was caused by the new medication she had me on. She never considered that as a cause, even though I asked.

I complained of diarrhea and nausea. She recommended Immodium and a bland diet. My condition continued to worsen. Even though diarrhea, nausea and extreme fatigue were indicators of dangerous blood levels of the medication I had been on for years, she never saw the signs.

In June, after the worthless sleep study, my husband went to my appointment with me, to share his concerns with the doctor. He told her that my brain function was affected. I was having problems tracking conversations, and my reaction time was so slow, I was no longer able to drive. She said to give the CPAP machine 90 days to straighten everything out.

At the end of July, after several worthless appointments with the doctor, my husband demanded I be seen right away because I was so weak I couldn’t stay out of bed for more than an hour or two at a time, all my symptoms had advanced to where I could no longer keep any food down, and I had constant diarrhea. I couldn’t take care of myself, couldn’t walk up and down stairs, couldn’t even sign my own name.

When I was seen by a Physician’s Assistant, she determined I was extremely dehydrated, and decided I must have a “bug.” I stayed in their office the better part of the day while they administered intravenous fluids. At the end of the liter of fluids, she asked if I’d like another, as if she was a waitress asking if I’d like a drink refill. Since I was feeling somewhat better (not completely, but at that point not at death’s door) she sent me home with prescriptions for compazine and lomotil, and ordered bedrest. She said I should call the next day, Friday, for results of the blood tests they ran. She repeated that several times, stating that if I wasn’t feeling better, or if the results indicated something wrong, I should be seen in the office on Friday, so as not to need to go to the Emergency Room over the weekend.

No one would return our calls on Friday. I called for results, and so did my husband. No one called back while the office was open. My husband called the answering service that evening and insisted that they have the doctor call me asap, as I was not feeling any better.

The doctor called that evening and said they didn’t have the results yet. We have since learned that that was a lie. Since I told her I was not feeling any better, she told me to double up on the medications they had ordered.

I did, and went to bed. What happened next is a hell that I hope no one ever goes through.

During the night, I went into a delirium. My brain, so swollen in reaction to the poison in my system no longer registered rational thought.I didn’t recognize my surroundings. I believed I was being held captive. Any noise outside the room was interpreted as sounds of my captors. I was more frightened than I had ever been before. It was only going to get worse.

The next morning, Saturday, my husband, who was at work, called the doctor’s office and insisted that someone call me with test results, and determine what needed to be done next. When the doctor called me, she said she didn’t have the results, but my husband had insisted she call me. She asked me to come to her office to see her. In my delirium, I was convinced that my husband was dead, and I told her so. The only thing this butcher did right during this entire ordeal was to call 911 and have the police check on me.

The police came, saw the condition I was in, got in touch with my husband, and called an ambulance. My system was so toxic when I got there, a toxicologist was called in to consult on my case.

I was hospitalized for a month. During that time, my kidneys failed, my lungs filled with fluid, and my heart slowed to a near full stop. The called a Code Blue on me. I was put on a respirator. I had a heart catheterization. They were pumping so many drugs into my heart to keep it going that they put a “direct line” in my neck that went straight to my heart. I had tubes going into and out of places all over my body. And during it all, because my brain swelled in reaction to the poisoning, in my mind I was in Auchwitz.

The doctors and nurses in the hospital were wonderful. Because of them, I lived. I learned to talk again, and walk again, and take care of myself. My husband was a rock. He showed me his love that is too deep to measure. He was constantly by my side. Because of him, I made the journey back from the hell in my mind. I owe him my sanity.

In the final accounting, there are scars that will be with me for a long, long time.

In the still of the night, when I’m waiting for sleep, all those things that I know absolutely didn’t happen, come back to me in a flood. And they feel as real as I had originally believed them to be.

What I tell you next is what I believe to be the most outrageous.

The “doctor” who doesn’t deserve the title was removed from my care the day I went into the hospital. Five days later, when my husband was finally able to take a moment to call their office to demand the test results that were never provided to me, and to reinforce that she was not my doctor, this woman had the audacity to call the hospital to demand my records. She called immmediately upon hanging up from speaking to him, claimed she was my physician, and demanded that my records be sent to her. She said that my husband was “very upset that he hasn’t been kept advised of his wife’s condition and care.” This was more than an outright lie; it was a criminal act. She lied about being my doctor. She stole my medical records for what I can only believe were for her use to cover her ass.

This call of hers opened the floodgates. Before her call, no records were sent. From that point on, and long after my discharge, this doctor continued to receive copies of my records, and initialled them as they were placed in my chart in her office. She knew she wasn’t supposed to get them, yet she did nothing to stop them from being sent to her. Of course not; she asked them to be sent, in violation of HIPAA law.

Once home from the hospital, we ordered copies of my medical records. Interesting to note, she never wrote in the chart that she prescribed the offending med. Or she removed the notation. The only record is the copy of the original prescription that we obtained from the pharmacy. The test results that “never arrived” were actually there before their office opened Friday morning. She made notes in my chart about the dangers of my medication interaction after the fact. This was evidenced by what she, and her office wench said to the 911 operator.

Their office staff lied when my husband asked them about the call to the hospital. They lied when he asked them about the records being sent to their office. They also lied and said they wouldn’t charge us for the office call that Thursday. They actually had the nerve to send the bill to our insurance company, and then lied and said they never said they wouldn’t charge us. Then lied some more.

We have filed complaints with our insurance company, the state medical board, and every agency that may have any interest, and nothing has been done to make this doctor, her supervisor, or anyone involved responsible for any of the willful or careless acts committed. Malpractice is one thing; the practice has insurance to cover that. Criminal misrepresentation and theft of private records is another.

If you live in Colorado you may come in contact with this person. (Unfortunately, I’m prohibited from posting the name of the doctor. Doctors get protection, victims do not.) But this can happen anywhere.

Don’t trust your doctor on face value. Research every medication they prescribe before you take it. Research every side effect, containdication, and things to watch for. If things seem to be going from bad to worse, get another opinion. Your life may very well depend on it.