Of writing, resistance, and civil and human rights. (2011-2016)
I looked the Rat Bastards in the eyes, and I told them,
"You are up to no good
 |
| Pervaiz "Are you really not a felon" Akhter ASH psychiatrist, 1999-2014 Punjab, Pakistan |
"You are up to no good
and you know it.
But know this, too.
You won't get away with it."
HOW IT WAS DONE.
A story by PJ Reed.
A story by PJ Reed.
There was a man
who saw a problem.
A suffering of innocents,
a brutality of evils.
Who, as a patient, recognized therein a need even while he was still in critical need of reasonable medical care in a state managed mental hospital;
who followed the protocol as published in the patient manual, asking as per that document for the medical staff- doctors- to in turn abide by said protocol and do the right thing;
who, finding those doctors unwilling to do the right thing, took the issues to the Hospital's "patient advocate", always as per protocol, always in good faith;
and finding that person unable to respond in kind, who went past that level of consideration and directly to state officials obligated by law to in turn abide by said protocol;
who then, finding those state officials unwilling to do the right thing, took the issues to the feds, always in accordance with protocol as per provisions of the Americans With Disabilities Act and other like conventions;
who, finding even that degree of governmental authority unwilling to do the right thing, realized it would be up to him, the patient himself; because there was a problem, there was a need, and nobody else was going to do anything about it.
who followed the protocol as published in the patient manual, asking as per that document for the medical staff- doctors- to in turn abide by said protocol and do the right thing;
who, finding those doctors unwilling to do the right thing, took the issues to the Hospital's "patient advocate", always as per protocol, always in good faith;
and finding that person unable to respond in kind, who went past that level of consideration and directly to state officials obligated by law to in turn abide by said protocol;
who then, finding those state officials unwilling to do the right thing, took the issues to the feds, always in accordance with protocol as per provisions of the Americans With Disabilities Act and other like conventions;
who, finding even that degree of governmental authority unwilling to do the right thing, realized it would be up to him, the patient himself; because there was a problem, there was a need, and nobody else was going to do anything about it.
Who began writing about it, as a method to resist in defense of his own needs and interests, and those of his patient-peers, in order to do the right thing.
But there at the Hospital, it was like shooting rubber bands at stars, fighting dragons with a paper sword, shouting into a vacuum; demeaned and abused to a point of near panic, that's how it felt. So, instead of asking for help anymore, he just continued to write about it.... Writing it all down, all of it... He began to keep records, and found good staff willing to make copies of everything...
Before long he took to just watching. And waiting.
The brutality was rampant, the administrative corruption omnipresent; so common all he had do was sit and observe... On the unit, on the grounds, in the dining hall, outside the patient bathrooms, everywhere, all the time... It was easy for him to take voluminous notes. About all he saw and all he experienced. Names, dates, times. All details, all sense of happenings as they played out.
Before long he took to just watching. And waiting.
The brutality was rampant, the administrative corruption omnipresent; so common all he had do was sit and observe... On the unit, on the grounds, in the dining hall, outside the patient bathrooms, everywhere, all the time... It was easy for him to take voluminous notes. About all he saw and all he experienced. Names, dates, times. All details, all sense of happenings as they played out.
Everything.
After thirteen months of very real staff abuse, negligence, and overt administrative retaliation for speaking up about it, he took everything away from there, contained in two file boxes full of data, with all notes, all documents; and all copies of all letters going, and all letters coming back in response; and his running thoughts about everything, as he witnessed and experienced it all.
Then he went home, shook off as best he could the worst impacts of the abuse, which had only exasperated his own illness, and which was stuck in his heart like shit on shoes, and he continued to write. It all down. All of it. Everything.
Then shared it with the world.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Hate to say I told you so.
But I told you so.
paoloreed@gmail.com
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I would really love input of any kind from anybody with any interest whatsoever in the issues that I am sharing in this blog. I mean it, anybody, for I will be the first one to admit that I may be inaccurately depicting certain aspects of the conditions
at ASH, and anonymous comments are fine. In any case, I am more than willing to value anybody's feelings about my writing, and I assure you that I will not intentionally exploit or otherwise abuse your right to express yourself as you deem fit. This topic is far, far too important for anything less. Thank you, whoever you are. Peace and Frogs.