Thoughts During A Breather

I'm taking a bit of a breather before I really dive into Part 3 (partially composed already).

Yesterday was the first time I have talked in any real "open" forum (as opposed to confidential ones) and in any detail about my relationship with my former partner at RMA, Kathleen Riley. Given the fact that she inherited all of my patients (information published on Guidestar would indicate to her great fiscal benefit), and (in terms of having anyone's ear) has had the floor all to herself for the last eleven years (including the weeks before I was fired) . . . and given how I really feel about her past "representation" of my best interests . . . I believe I have been very patient in waiting this long . . . not to mention, reserved, measured and FAIR in my commentary on this blog.

But I am taking the floor now.

The same goes for Dr. Cheryl Freeman. Legally and otherwise, in terms of "get back" she has no leg to stand on. She waived the medical/legal privilege with her behavior, and her words/poison pen did serious damage.

Besides, comments are now open here. Bring it on. But be advised. I'm not unarmed. Four years in the blogosphere, under the tutelage of people like Ed Cone, has trained me to be a fierce "attack dog".

I find my online reputation interesting and somewhat ironic. Like other blogging doctors, I could be flinging cases and patient charts (minus names) all over the ether. I could be dishing a whole lot more dirt. I'm not.

I'm sticking to the story - a story I've been trying to tell since day one . . . a story that NO ONE in a position of oversight . . . from the Executive Committee at RMA . . . to the Boards of Directors of both RMA & Randolph Hospital . . . to regulatory bodies like DHHS and the Medical Board and the State Bar . . . to law enforcement . . . to our local press . . . wanted to hear.

They don't want to hear it now. It's embarrassing.

You see, the taxpayer footed the bill for this cluster-screw.

Medicine is a mess. Too many middle men are in the equation . . . screwing up the relationship between doctor and patient. If we are going to talk about "reform", then the case of Mary Johnson, M.D. vs. Randolph Hospital could not be more relevant.

At the risk of sounding like an elitist snob during hard economic times, I was not a janitor at one of the local mills. I was a professional - a physician - who had trained FOR YEARS (well over a decade of my life) to develop the very specialized skills I brought home to Asheboro - in order to serve the community where I grew up. I wasn't in it to get rich. And I did not want to be famous. But I did think I deserved just a little bit of respect. I bought a home and I poured myself into building something that I could be proud of. I invested myself deeply in the dream I had for my life - and the vision I had for my community.

It was a nice dream. It was a great vision. And it became ashes.

Moreover, it was worth something. That's the reason RMA worked so hard to drum me out of town and keep it for themselves.

Good Pediatricians are NOT "a dime a dozen".

Moreover, there was no malpractice. I was not a drunk or a drug addict. I was not banging colleagues in broom closets. I did not abort my own child.

Yet I'm the doctor Randolph Hospital booted out the door!?! No fair hearing. No due process. I had to be silenced . . . and if not silenced, humiliated and crushed - in full view of my own horrified parents no less.

I deserved far better than to be thrown out on the street like the dirt janitors sweep . . . by people who put style over substance . . . who did not play fair . . . who acted unethically and ultimately illegally to get their way. They shut every door and barred every window, and I am just done.

For those who sneer, sniff and spit at me now - because you're friends with one of the principals or you think what I am doing simply shouldn't be done, all I have to say is screw you. If I am a monster, then I am one you created with your apathy and your determined neglect and your abject mill-town snobbery.

If you are one of the patients I cared for . . . or nurses I worked with, I am genuinely sorry. But this was not my doing.

As several ex-parents/grandparents have told me this week. I was not the only one who was hurt. My parents/patients lost a doctor. The practice/hospital deliberately lied to them. Moreover, the lies were not about protecting my privacy or their confidentiality . . . or even serving their children's well-being . . . it was about RMA making more money. Parents were not given a choice. It was taken away.

When they complained, no one listened. The "right people" could not be bothered.

And, as we've already established, as the "slow-moving train wreck" progresssed, nurses could not object/say what they really thought for fear of losing their jobs.

The community lost doctors over this too. Good doctors. People who were my friends. I vividly remember watching two of them get in their vehicles and drive away from Asheboro forever - with tears streaming down my face.

This is how Bob Morrison's vision played out. It's wasn't 20/20. There's a reason Asheboro is "dying".

So if anyone has a beef with what I am doing now, don't whine to me. Go talk to your local WAY OVERPAID, WAY OVER-RATED "non-profit" hospital CEO, Bob Morrison - the man who slammed all the doors and shut all the windows - the man who lied and cheated and lied some more in order to secure his absolute control of Asheboro's medical landscape.

While you're at it, talk to Steve Eblin. An oilier piece of work I have not met.

You preferred to believe Bob & Steve when they trashed me to patients ("she's not a team player"), or painted me as some kind of extortionist when I fought back (in at least one letter "the team" sent to the medical staff - a letter I will shortly take apart on this blog).

Ed Cone, Roch Smith, Jr. and some of that blogging ilk would like the world to think that I'm a "wack-job" for fighting back as long and as hard as I have.

But none of that is true. Your biggest problem now is that "the boys" shot the messenger. They did not kill her.

And she got up.

Ooh-rah.