a letter to a doctor

I’d like to say “You know who you are.” But you probably don’t. See, for you, it was another busy day in the Emergency Department. Just another string of unfortunate events. You cross your t’s and dot your i’s (or have your nurses do it for you) to the standard minimum, no doubt, for you have far too much paperwork to fill out per patient and far too little time for anything resembling bedside manner.


I’m not the only person who has suffered at the hands of a busy doctor. Just google Birth Trauma. Mothers and babies with lasting injuries (both physically and emotionally) abound.


In this case, just a few extra minutes of your time could have completely altered the future for me and my family. Those few minutes would have cost you just that – a few minutes. But what they could have saved for us. Months of pain, anguish and torment in a web of corruption systematically designed to utterly ruin people’s lives.


This is what happens when our current justice, health and other government systems join forces – for evil, masquerading very eagerly as “Good”.





I came to you broken. I put one step in front of the other, trembling and terrified. I pushed and brought myself before you. My face downcast in deep sorrow and my eyes swollen from severe sleep deprivation and the constant weeping of postpartum depression. My husband had brought our newborn to see you first. Her leg was fractured. It would later be just around 2-3 weeks until it was fully healed. Everyone played the sympathetic part. Reassuring me that accidents happen. But my sense of shame drove deeper than any sympathy could reach.


I cried out! Pleading for your help, “Postpartum depression” the stigma I trusted would not sting me this time, not in such a high-end facility as this main line hospital; but there you were. Frozen for not more than a millisecond, I doubt you devoted more than a split second to contemplating your next move. After all, weren’t you trained to handle such a crisis this way? Can I blame you for behaving like an obedient dog, hearing the bell ring and rushing to press the big red button to escape any potential punishment? You were busy. You had to COVER YOUR ASS AND MOVE ON. And it’s expected that I should understand.



But that split-second decision of yours almost cost me EVERYTHING. Your well-trained, thoughtless action threatened to destroy our family again and again as the minutes, hours, days, weeks and months followed that millisecond you gave me a thought. See, I’ve thought about you almost every day for over a year. I looked you up on Facebook. Wondering if you’ve got a family. Do you have children? But I couldn’t bear to actually check. I hope you never have to experience what your careless ass-covering forced me to experience. I hope any children in your life will never be touched by the horrific system you shoved us into to get us out of your way because you were too Busy that day to actually do your job, hold to your oath (to first do no harm) and be a doctor. You were too Busy playing the puppet.

a letter to a doctor

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