"Yes, Indeed. Keep Telling Yourself That"

As many of the residents of Asheboro immerse themselves in 40 days of prayer - to "save" the city that some of our more right upstanding folks drove into the ground (if you have any questions about that look no further than Community One's last dismal quarterly report - something that even the Courier cannot ignore) - I've found that I'm less and less inclined to indulge those who might be deluding themselves about my situation . . . or their role in it.

Although I stuck with Nancy Toy for routine care (meaning I drive to Hickory at least once a year for the girly check-ups) I still occasionally use physicians in Asheboro.  So does my Mother . . . and my ex.

And over the years, in various encounters, there are still physicians who ask Mom/my ex about me . . . where I am and how I'm doing . . . as if they don't know about "that blog nobody reads".  They make light of the situation - sometimes even joke.

The jokes have ALWAYS fallen flat when they wafted back to me.

This morning was no exception.  Mama saw one of the doctors who wrote me a letter of recommendation way back when (see the sidebar) in a pretty much futile effort to minimize the damage Robert Morrison and Steven Eblin did to my career (just so we're clear, the best letters in the world don't help when you've been locally black-balled by the boys-in-suits).  And their back-&-forth when-it-came-to-me was the same-old-same-old . . . including the doctor postulating something about me being a "free spirit" who "likes that sort of thing" (i.e. making my living "on-the-road" - as a Locum Tenens/independent contractor), and that I was better off for it. 

As if I had options or was given a choice.

Now, when Mother relates these things (as she did this morning), I usually absorb whatever rationalization is put forth and shake it off . . . marvelling at the ability of some people to live their happy lives in their nice little boxes.

This morning, I was not so forgiving . . . "Yes, indeed, (insert MD's name), keep telling yourself that."

As I've said, fairly recently, my tolerance for bullshit these days is very, very low.

Because, you see, what was done to me . . . right under the averted eyes and stuck-up noses of my medical "colleagues" in Asheboro . . . was WRONG . . . AMORAL . . . DESPICABLE . . . and ultimately ILLEGAL.  And, as physicians with ANY kind of association with Randolph Hospital, they had a responsibility to stand up . . . to speak out . . . . and to STOP it. 

But they didn't.  I might as well have been one of those proverbial mugging-victims-with-a-disinterested-audience in a New York City alley . . . as opposed to the girl who came home to the place with all the "small town values".

These physicians know I'm still out here (as do all of the right upstanding city leaders who were honored as guests at the church where I tithe), and they know I have irrefutable evidence that their hospital CEO and his left-hand man are guilty of multiple FELONIES.

But "Mary's tough and she can take it" you see, so these doctors CONTINUE to ignore their responsibities when it comes to accountability and credibility/integrity . . . and the untouchables-in-suits keep raking in their phat raises under the pretense of charity, and dancing right along with the Randolph County stars.

I have about as much use for it as I do for blogger-king-local-journalist, Edward-Cone-of-the-Cones, trying to re-write history now.  But that's a whole nuther story.

And I want to say to these doctors-who-most-likely-could-not-have-endured-what-I-have-without-putting-a-bullet-in-their-brain, why yes, I may indeed be a "free spirit" . . . I might have been able to absorb and or beat off every ugly/nasty thing that was thrown my way . . . and making lemonade from lemons may be my unique gift . . . but PLEASE CUT THE CRAP with the self-serving rationalizations . . . and DO NOT EVER DELUDE YOURSELVES that everything worked out for the best . . .

. . . or that your role in it . . . most notably your apathy and cowardice . . . both individually and collectively . . . went unnoticed or is excused.

I SURVIVED.  No thanks to you.

Pray about that until Easter.