What's the bottom line: the Kern Valley Healthcare District blog

Kern Valley Health "scare" District...

In medicine, as in statecraft and propaganda, words are sometimes the most powerful drugs we can use- Dr. Sara Murray Jordan

Here I am pondering my relationship with the healthcare system, the labels, the diagnoses, the communication, the sad life altering mistakes, the hope that those who "care for us," assist us and take time to reach out to us, recognize their responsibility in the partnership.

I've taken up the quest on my side of the relationship to find out what has happened to me, my health, my responsibility, rather than to play the role of victim as if a doctor, practitioner will always reach the high standard we often revere or attribute to this profession.

Sadly we see so many in the role health practitioner as if it's a vocation, rather than an art, or a great business venture rather than a gift.

In the course of my life I've seen both sides, and that is why I am posting a comment that I will use as a springboard for further explanation.

Yes, I'm afraid the days of comments and roses are over on this blog, but the following comment caught my attention, and I would like to address it.

Oh for peat sakes Laura, do you never stop? Why don't you use all that
energy for good instead of bad? You knew that Doc Gross was only in it for the
money when he moved here, what changed? Did you really think he cared about this
valley or that he believed the medical oath meant anything to him except bucks?
Gosh, and of course David Derr is a "rubberstamp," the people in this valley
knew that he and Doc Gross were "kissee, kissee" and buddys but the
'Progressives" get out the vote, and the public will have to eat the "Gross
product" of medical care for a long time as a result of that, his "take" in the
issue "kickbacks" is minor now, wait until he controls all the seats of the
board!

Obviously the author of that quote doesn't care for me anymore than Dr. Gross our KVHD board member, and was taking a cheap shot at him, but the point I am making is in regard to the idea that I have used my energy for "bad purposes."

Us against them! The good guys and the bad guys! Cowboys and Indians...you get it...you were a child once.

I realized long ago, that there is good in everything bad, and some bad in everything good.

I've made note that I use words to express general ideas, logic, irony, and these petty little symbols are actually some awesome tools.

"A dose of adversity is often as needful as a dose of medicine"-proverb

The things I do and say I believe in. They mean something to me or I wouldn't take the time to write about it. There are a "gazillian" (the amount of the debt in California) things any of us could do, at any time, and we all have something to contribute, to serve.

People mean something to me, their feelings, their participation in the world, and community (I'm not much for factions), a better way of life is what I fight for.

Tiger Woods started playing golf when he was three. When I was three I was already debating with my parents, teachers, and the church. It's what I do. I picked up a club, I mean a pencil, (though I've learned it is a weapon and to wield wisely) and never stopped writing.

But it's why I do it, that is often misunderstood.

I remember the shock when this blog first appeared, the hyperbole, the satire, the rhetoric, it simply riled up the whole neighborhood. H.L. Mencken made a career of antagonizing...Voltaire was often found revolting...and my contribution was to take on what some still consider a blasphemous target: healthcare and healthcare providers.

It was two elderly women, spiritual by nature, and confused as to my tactics and antics who straightened some of this out for me.

"God makes people for certain things, and it sure seems like this is yours," one seasoned woman told me after she questioned my motives and naturally my humor.

Their questions and my openess about what and why I'm doing what I'm doing in regard to this hospital, became important information for me, as I found understanding.

I've never actually physically hurt them, but they sure have hit me

When I was 17 my family doctor was away, and his partner, a semi-retired gentleman, saw me for the flu or something of that nature. From that day on we were friends until he retired and even after that time.

I was young, confused, one day an existentialist, the next a guardian of religion, and often very bi-polar.

Dr. Herrick and I visited regularly, he listened to my interpretations of the books I read, and often told me he wished he had more time to read literature and mingle with philosophy, but medicine had taken up his whole life.

I would ask him questions about medicine, though his answers were often unexpected. He was a man who thought for himself. He was trained, but not glued to the absolutes we see so many doctors talking about today.

"Take this medicine twice a day and this will happen, you will be...happy."

When did medicine begin to dictate happiness? I don't know, but Dr. Herrick would never have accepted that idea nor would he ever have preached it. In fact, if he were alive today, he would be aghast at what is happening and what happened to me.

On a "dime" it all turned

Generally speaking when you're young you don't think of your health, it is self sustaining. Bruises go away, the skin knits itself, and you're back on the road to...death I guess. (sorry I've been morose lately)

Acceptance was not too much to expect, but my whole life changed on October 1, 1999, because I didn't know or was educated as to what a medication could potentially do to me?

I don't know, it seems it became my problem, as once the Gentamicin permanently damaged my inner ear, the people in healthcare were turning their backs, changing their stories, justifying something as simple as not warning me.

They were no longer people to trust: they were cowards.

I see people in the stores buying medicines for headaches, diarrhea, stomach aches, GAS, a whole variety for us to choose from, over the counter. We became our own doctors, and we don't even realize not one of these things is completely safe. Unfortunately, that small percentage, who could be any one of us at any time, may die from some of these remedies, or like me, become permanently damaged and changed.

I've never seen the world the same way again, as my vision changed, my balance was gone, my whole life I had created was gone...that fast. I worked with no help, as I had been abandoned as a mistake healthcare providers prefer to avoid and move on with their lives.

There were people there, they were my family and their children. They saw what could happen with open eyes, to any of us. I couldn't walk five feet without falling. I couldn't see without holding my head completely still. The route from my bedroom to the bathroom was a series of things to grab onto: the door frame, kitchen counter, couch, baby swing, door frame, open door...find the toilet.

I really didn't think I could live like that. They have recently begun to study at least some sort of rehabilitation for this type of injury, but when it happened to me, it was "have a nice life."

It was work

I worked my ass "on" to build weight and muscle, and after a year, I dug a garden, watched the baby learn to walk while I was learning to walk, and began juicing, Jack LaLane style. Twice a day, one veggie and one fruit. Another year passed and I built an addition on my bedroom. The kids were now officially under Aunt Laura's care for some long, but wonderful days. I knew I had to have muscle as it was the balance system I have left after the inner ear stopped functioning. I cannot even get dizzy...which is a good thing mostly.

After three years, I felt that I would be able to contribute more and retrain, not necessarily regain, some of my former life. I learned to catch a ball again. The kids taught me, and laughed as it would sometimes hit me in the face or knock my glasses off my head.

Then along came a spider...Grave's disease. It began stripping me of my muscle and strength and the falls came more often, as they sometimes call this balance disorder, the "falling disorder." I learned as I had already predicted that if anything else happened to me, losing my muscle, a leg or some injury setting off my balance, I would be screwed: I hate it when I'm right.

Now I could not put my family through another round, and truthfully, I was afraid.

Fear of doctors and medicine

After a fairly decent life of health and a sudden challenge, came a disorder or series of problems which would keep me occupied with doctors and hospitals here in the Kern River Valley for the last seven years.

When I arrived I had lost almost 40 pounds, my hair was coming out by the handfuls, my hands shook so badly I couldn't grasp with any acuity.

But guess what? I sure as hell wasn't going to see a doctor. That was simply out of the question after what I had witnessed and endured. I was labeled, incriminated, and sure not ready to start again.

My neighbor made me do it

I suppose he got tired of taking out my trash as I would huff and puff trying to carry anything with my new "skinny" arms so he finally gave me the name of our KVHD Rural Health clinic doctor.

At first it was easy, I walked in, took a blood test and was told I had Grave's disease or an autoimmune disorder which effects the endocrine system, thyroid mostly, but eyes, and adrenals as well.

The first shot and we had a diagnosis, yippee!

Then mistake number one I have learned: don't take any medicine you don't have to REALLY, REALLY take. Now at the time I had insomnia to the point I was never sure if I slept, it was usually, kind of shut down for a minute or two and back up. I was problematic to say the least.

So, my doctor and "yours" has the idea that I need some medicine, and truthfully it would be two months later the FDA recognized that you don't use SSRI antidepressants on a bi-polar because as we now know, even a small amount can cause a crisis. Yes, a dribble of prozac and I was a singer and dancer the next morning.

It took six months to wear off, but during that time, we needed medicine to deal with the side effects of the original medicine.

Then we had more problems as my doctor had struck gold on our first meeting, we were now over a year, and I wasn't better, I was worse. I was his failure. So, the next issue is to talk about a radical idea: remove a part.

Lesson two: Don't let them remove anything you don't know about.

Though an endocrinologist in Bakersfield didn't believe I needed my thryoid irradiated, he was sure I was simply crazy, my doctor pressured me as did others I might add, to have the thing obliterated. "It will be easier to control," he told me.

It never was or has been. But we went through with it anyway. As things kept breaking and new medicines were needed, I started to think maybe it wasn't the thyroid causing the symptoms as the thyroid was gone. Was it the medications?

I need a veterinarian

My parrot has a great doctor and she doesn't even have to tell him anything or fill out forms. Her doctor actually saved me at one point after the thyroid slipped way out of whack, (yet it was my problem as I didn't know I was supposed to have gone to medical school at some point) when he mentioned my lethargy. I returned to the "human" doctor to find we had let the level of thyroid decrease to a 50, that's not .5 or 5, which would be normal, I mean 50. Thank God for veterinarians.

Though I had one good year, with some odd symptoms, but I had gained some weight, was able to at least do some writing for the local poison pen paper, and thought I had met some good people at our local hospital.

Our former CEO, Pam Ott, had me at her service, I was here to help healthcare. I did all I could to write the hospital on the front page, and get stories out there. But I also had a second job, getting a General obligation bond for the district. No Problemo!

It was all a delusion

I kept telling myself and my family that my doctor is overworked that's why they haven't figured out my odd symptoms, a rash that developed on my neck in 2006, which came along with another round of weight loss, and that specific symptom called "general malaise."

So, my doctor needed more help and a new hospital and building, and I was going to get it for us all.

There was not a part of me looking at all for anything wrong, in fact, it felt good to help a system that had permanently damaged me in the first place. I thought I was righting a wrong.

I campaigned for Measure M. I fought the naysayers, used my logic against all such as our board member and Doctor, Gross, as well as Robert and Kay Knight. Pam Ott, Bob Jamison, Brad Armstrong, Barbara Casas, all had me convinced these people were in the way of progress.

Not noting anything negative, forgiving the slights of my doctor, a very bad experience in the ER, didn't stop me, I fought for Measure M: and lost. We all looked at our computers the day after the election to find we were less than 100 votes from success. I was shocked. All the hope I had for the community and hospital, so close, but yet...Thank you GOD!

How did that happen?

That happened because I was not looking both ways when I crossed the street and I was hit by a bus...figuratively. I found out the CEO was hiding a nursing center full of horrors and cruelty. Not simple chemical restraining: but the CFO had cut the work force and as the nursing center slid into decay, the families were not being told of this new way of life at the hospital. Save money on staff, spend a little more on drugs.

I guess you don't have to imagine what I did in response, as we are still here, and there is still a trial in Kern County Court scheduled, and there are lives that will never be the same: and a hospital full of shame.

So, question for the writer of the comment above: why then when I did nothing but try to help this hospital, dumbed down for the experience, did it end up with people being hurt and taken?

The CEO didn't have the qualifications: she had a "diploma mill" resume. Who hired her?

If I was not so eager to help us all, and believe others had those same ideals, I would have seen what was obvious as it is now, that there are those who are simply helping themselves.

They seem to be fine with it. I'm not, but they seem to be.

I asked for help from our newest CEO and board member doctor

Almost a month ago I wrote a blog when I returned home from the hospital, scared and impaired, my health foresaken, my faith shaken, (I have that rhyming disorder) and now I am back to where I started.

Doctors and administrators no way are they going to take any responsibility for my health. I wrote to Tim McGlew like everyone does when they have a problem and need to feel safe again, and asked why I couldn't get help in the ER. He promised to look into it, that was November.

In December, for Christmas, I fainted as I had been to Sienna Wellness, the Gross establishment, time and again for three months asking for help with a gastric problem. My insurance paid to have them tell me to use 7up and milk. I kept telling them each VISIT, that my mouth is burned. Nothing. (I couldn't produce enough flames for them at that point. I guess they need to see the fire rather than find a reason for the smoke)

I was in the ER at least three times explaining the problem, then I had a "whatever episode" I get, which I fortunately hadn't had since Memorial day. Now I get the treatment from the ER: "Drug seeker."

If only logic applied as I have drugs at home because that's the only thing they can do. I wanted to know what the problem was as I was and am still losing weight.

No action from the CEO

McGlew apparently did nothing as each time I returned to the ER the treatment was worse and more demoralizing. And I got the luxury of knowing it wasn't just happening to me.

As two kids had committed suicide a doctor was yelling at a young one in the ER about using drugs. Not in a helpful manner such as, "do you need some help," but in a destructive manner, as "you're beyond help."

A 70 year old woman was put out on the black chairs in the ER waiting room Christmas night by Roy and Terry the compassionate nurses from hell. I was given some "different" drugs as Terry wouldn't tell me what I was given, she said it was "doctor's orders." I made sure to shuffle out and give this woman my number. But it was Christmas, and even on such a day, there was no compassion for anyone.

I was the only person in the ER left, why couldn't that woman have been kept warm and comfortable?

Then it was 1/20

I put my dog in the car and felt weak as I was going to get a cup of coffee. So, I stopped by the ER. I'll never be the same.

As the story goes it would have been far less damaging to have gone and just got that cup of coffee so I could finish my work. Instead, I was injured in every sector, but mostly because nobody seems to realize this place is dangerous....

THE NEXT TIME IT COULD BE YOU

McGlew offered no support, nor did Dr. Gross, nor did my PA Jim Gutzman. Instead after a trauma which remains, I'm seeing the same behavior again that I saw with Ott, and during my Gentamicin damage: no responsibility, lots of cruelty.

I don't want it to be you or your mother or father or child.

The hospital is not safe or sane.

(If you can believe the irony, I was told by somebody who obviously hadn't heard about this blog or me, "Never go to that hospital. How long have you been up here, don't you know that?" I stood shocked.)

All I can do is warn you, and I will continue to warn you while I find out exactly what has happened to me and then we will deal with that situation.

I've been out of the house only a few times since the visit to the hospital, but the one time I managed to get to the store, I heard a story...I thought "oh no," as the woman told the tale of her mother being discharged from the ER, told she was fine, only to have her in the ER waiting room the next day.

I stirred my coffee and listened as she was saying her mother had to come back and was left in the ER waiting room damaged more than the day before.

She said she called an ambulance. I laughed, as this was a person who wasn't going to take this with a grain of salt. The ambulance drivers were probably surprised to find they were being sent to the KVHD ER waiting room.

I interrupted to give her my name and number as is my practice, and she said I'll be talking with that guy, "Mglew or something" she said as if she meant business.

Gosh, I wonder what happened?

"None loves the messenger who brings bad news."-Sophocles