why?

is it the medical profession has absolutely no idea of who is on their table? How is it they can root around inside of you and not know anything about you? Why are they like this? Why do they only see a piece of meat on a table and are only interested in their specific cut of meat?

Why is it that this profession, whom we pass our lives over, do not listen to us. Us who have lived in this body for all our lives?

We have come so far from the who. Now they concentrate on the numbers on their screen...the pulse rate, the blood pressure to tell if the patient is in trouble. While i lay there with hands holding my head and my body trembling. and he says it doesn't hurt there's no nerve endings here. i cannot talk. i realize the only way he will listen is if i can get that pulse rate up. He sees and believes the machine. Now softer words: "we're almost done...it'll be over soon."

He is done the nurse begins to put the blankets about me again. I begin to take the pulse thingy off my finger and undo the cuff. I want off this gurney. I want out of this room. I want out of this hospital. No she says. I have to take your vitals. You've had a dilation you'll have to wait for a half hour. She pushes me out to the recovery room. They barely know I'm here. Just another body. I hear the nurse who wheeled me out say 3 times she just had a dilation. Someone finally acknowledges her. Me they ignore. After 15 minutes I'm offered some juice. I drink two down quickly I'm dehydrated. I began to explain about ileostomy...she's too busy to listen. Finally she comes back I know its not quite 30 minutes. I just want out. And I put on my best face and my best oh you are so busy and and thank you and and and and and and....she says its close enough I'll get you clothes. I change like superman...one spin and I am a person again. I ask to use the phone to call my pick up. Answering machine cuts in. I fake it and say ok 5 minutes in a specific entrance. I thank the nurse for her attention and remark once again on what a busy day she is having and leave with a thank you falling from my forked tongue. I walk until I see smokers. I ask for one saying I just had a procedure and i came with no money or anything....they see me .... they hear me....without hesitation offer me a choice of two brands.

I walk as fast as I can so no one can tell where i have come from where i have been what has been done to me. its over. Bile fills the back of my throat and I continue to walk...remember rescue remedy in my pocket...my pace slows down. Now i am angry. Angry that the words of all the trusted medical professionals I had advocate on my behalf were tossed away like a used johnny coat.

I arrive at my friend's house she's shocked to see me on her door step. She listens to my account and makes up the couch and brings me food and drink. I drug myself. I watch tv. I make phone calls to the trusted professionals to let them know it didn't work. They should know this for the ones behind me. I sleep. I am fed a delicious meal and chocolate is in abundance. I can survive anything with chocolate. We watch a silly movie and laugh.

Time to sleep I go to a clean inviting bed. My feline friend has her bath beside me. I try to read...my brain is teflon...sentences don't stick. Paragraphs are mountains. I turn out the light. My brain will not shut down even with the drugs. I can't bare this awakeness...I can't bare the flash memory of the day. I can't bare doing this for 8 hours until morning comes and my hostess awakens. I just can't bare thinking and thoughts and memories and humiliation and pain and not being seen and breathing.

As quietly as i can i dress, write a note, and feel my way down stairs...thank goddess i know this house well...i know where my keys are, i know where my car is, i have all that i need to get home.

Home where I can purge. Home where there is enough drugs to knock me out. Home where I will disturb no one and no one can disturb me. My cave. Where I can hibernate and get ready for the next encounter with the health "care" system.