11 October 2013

Throat Punch Thursday (a day late): Doctors. Again.

Dear Mom's Doctor (henceforth to be called Dr. Fuckface),

Dr. Fuckface, you have been my Mom's doctor for over 40 years. For many years, until the pelvic that made me cry, you were my doctor. I hate you. I hate you with the fury of the fire of a thousand suns. I hate your children. I hate your parents. If I could go back in time and wipe out your entire family line, I would. I hate you that much.

I know I'm supposed to be embracing happiness, and I can definitely talk the talk, but I'm mad, so fuck you. Maybe this letter will help.

Right, so I hate you. I mean, I really fucking despise you, your stupid accent that should have gone away by now, your stupid face. And why? Other than the aforementioned pelvic from hell? Other than totally missing that I had Celiac Disease for years? Other than declaring my favourite uncle in perfect health the day before he died of a massive coronary? Other than telling my Dad, who had heart disease, that he didn't need to be on a special diet? Other than all that? Because you suck. You suck as a doctor. You suck as a human.

When my Dad died, of totally preventable heart disease (that you also missed), you phoned my Mom on the day of the funeral. I was almost ready to forgive you then, but then it turned out you were calling to offer her anti-depressants, not condolence. Fuck off. She was grieving. Not clinically depressed. You shill.

When she was getting sicker and sicker, her kidneys failing, you blamed it on grief. You never once noticed that she was losing weight. Until she told you. And you said, "That's normal, dear. You need to eat more." When Mom told you she was eating fine, thank you, you literally guffawed at her. You condescending assclown.

When Mom was down 1/3 of her body weight, it finally clued in that she might be sick. By then it was too late. The cancer had destroyed her kidneys. Of course, you and your band of fucknuts didn't know it was cancer yet then. But had you done a simple blood test back when she first complained, you'd have seen what her kidneys were doing. Oh, and I'm no doctor, but even I know that peripheral edema is a great big warning sign. But you told her it was hot outside, and she should sit down more. And you know what else? This is your fault. Because you missed it. And you know why you missed it? Because you refuse to listen to more than one "complaint" per visit. Do you not see how fucking asinine that is? You cannot ever see the big picture if you won't listen to your patient tell you how she's feeling! But you want people to come back over and over, to make you more money. You sleazy pusbag. What's worse is that there's a 6 week wait to get in. There's simply no way you can be an effective doctor for someone who is actually sick. Not the sniffles. Sick. You slimy, greedy, motherfucker.

So Mom went on dialysis. And got test after test to get a transplant. Which she was never qualified for, but that's a letter to another rectal wart of a doctor. And you continued to do nothing but her annual physical and the odd sinus infection. That's fine. That's your job. To do the things I could do if they let me. Never once did you apologise to her for the predicament you got her into. Never once did you even talk to her about what was going on.

Except for the original test. Oh, that was fun. You told Mom over the phone what it said on the test. You literally read the test result to her, without interpretation. You said, "... and that could be from your lymphoma or..." And Mom thought she had lymphoma. She called all her family to tell them. I came out from BC to be with her. I came to her next appointment and asked about that last test. And that's when I figured out she didn't have the cancer you told her she had! Because of your casual use of the word "your", Mom thought she had cancer. Even after you read it again, she would have thought that had I not been there. Just for that, Dr. Fuckface, I hope you are misdiagnosed with something so you can feel the fear and then the embarrassment you put my Mom through. You insensitive, heartless, ratbastard.

And what actually prompted this letter of love today? Mom went to you for her annual exam. God knows why, since her nephrologist and oncologist basically handle all her care, but she went. And she brought the info about the cancer, since just last week did the oncologist decide it was time for chemo. She had a simple question about a lab, and just needed to talk for a second. And you told her to put it away. You interrupted her in her first sentence to tell her you would not talk about that. At all. You wouldn't even let her tell you she was scared. She's been seeing you for over 40 years. And you wouldn't let her talk for 5 minutes. You son of a syphilitic pig fucker.

I hope when you die, you die alone and in pain. Confused and lonely. Because apparently you think that's good enough for your patients.

All my love (which is precisely none for you),