Diary of a Marked Woman

Diary of a Marked Woman


Paris, December 2005


Fri. the 23rd: With my mother's call earlier today I just got another proof , or rather the proof was already there but I just identified it as such, that it was she and nobody else who has been covertly ordering the doctors I've seen NOT TO TREAT ME:

Here is the logical reasoning:
1) During the past few months she has shown repeatedly and abundantly a total contempt for my privacy as a patient and for the doctor-patient privilege.
2- Ordering a doctor behind the patient's back not to treat the patient is also (if nothing else) a sign of contempt for the privacy of the patient and the doctor-patient privilege.
3- THEREFORE, since she has been doing it openly, and somebody has been doing it covertly, the probability that she was the one doing it covertly is quite high.

Here are a few examples of what I mean by 1):
Last summer she tried repeatedly to prevail on me that I get myself operated on in Evreux by a surgeon from Togo. Why an African? Why a surgeon from a third world country? Is the machete his favorite instrument? I didn't see why I should let a foreigner do surgery on me when there are many competent French orthopedic surgeons. So to get her to stop bugging me with her Togolese I finally told my mother that I was concerned that if anything went wrong the doc would hightail it to the jungle and no international arrest warrant or extradition treaty would be able to dislodge him. "Why are you always thinking about the worst case scenario?" mom asked reproachefully. (Why, indeed! Because I'm a crime magnet, that's why) I suspect this is exactly what she had counted on, to have the doc -IF he was actually a bona-fide M.D. and orthopedic surgeon, not just a machete-wielding savage costumed in a lab coat- botch the operation and leave me mutilated if not dead, then return to the wilds of Togo without a care in the world, and not to the hospital in Rouen where mom said he was in residence, (visiting Evreux only twice a month or so, like a benevolent star-healer bestowing his gifts to underserved areas.); So she quit talking about that "remarkable surgeon" after I hit the nail on the head, but only after driving me to the limit of exasperation.

Soon thereafter she tried another tack: she wanted to accompany me to the doctor of my choice. She said that I must be doing something wrong that turned the doctors off and made them not want to treat me. Maybe I had the wrong attitude? So I asked what more was expected of a patient who walked on crutches and asked for help to walk again. Was there a secret password? Amagic formula?/p>

I had been told that I needed a Social Security card to get my expenses paid by the state, so I filled out an application (and God, did she bug me about that too, while I was still in a state of shock from the psychological trauma of everything that had happened to me between Dec. 31-04 and Jan 5-05. Do you think she would have shown some... patience, maybe? Some understanding? Some compassion? Some empathy? Not on your life! First, the day I returned from the hospital -no electricity in the apartment, nothing to help me move around with my leg in a thigh-high cast, she lambasted me on the phone like a fishmonger because I had refused to be operated on by this juvenile-looking surgeon and she never stopped accusing, blaming, reproaching, threatening, extorting, withholding since. So I got my social security card and even signed up for a complementary health insurance to pick up the tab for the 30 or so percent that the state insurance does not reimburse. I got all these forms filled out, all these papers to read in return and I thought I was all set, neither mom nor any social worker said anything else was required. And now mom was telling me that there was something missing in me that made the docs unwilling to practice their art, do their job, and for that reason she was going to go with me to the doc.

I remember the first time she was saying this I interrupted, and said: "So they do not obey me but they will obey you?" and she had hung up the phone, as if I had caught her -which, indeed, I had, but not intentionally: I had only meant my remark to be bitter and sarcastic because I found so ridiculous the idea that a 53 year old woman would need her mother to talk to the doctor for her. But this is the reason she gave for wanting to go with me to the doctor.

She proposed the same thing a few more times, even writing me in a tone of command to give her the date of the docotr appointment so she could come with me and we would take a cab to go there and she cut off all financial help until I get myself treated to give me an incentive to get a move on.I replied I knew my phone was being tapped, I had positive proof of it, so she replied that I should buy a phone card and call the doctor from a pay phone and consult the phone books at the nearby post office. So now she treats me like a real retard, as if I was unable to think about this kind of thing. But I replied to her that it is even less illegal to eavesdrop on a public phone than on a private line. (And what about consulting the phone books at the post office? The postal and phone services and have split many many years ago and there are no phone books at the post office) and, uh... it strikes me as very insensitive to advise someone who can't walk to go make calls two floors down to the pay phone.

Finally to get her to stop trying to force herself upon me I had to explain to her the concept of privacy and of the doctor-patient privilege. "But I'm your mother!" she exclaimed as if there was a de-facto exception for mothers. So I said that indeed she was, but that the decision to give up the privilege, to accept a third party in the consultation with a doctor, was entirely at my discretion, and that I had a perfect right not to give up this privilege. I also explained that her parental rights were terminated the day I reached my 21st birthday and that she had to respect my decisions and not try constantly to influence me, and also that she has no right to punish me, because as long as I do not violate her rights she has no grounds to complain, and that as my mother she had also -by French law- an obligation to provide for my living expenses. But she really hates to be reminded of her obligations. And obviously she abhors any suggestion to untie the purse strings. But nevertheless she has several times terminated this meager allowance to coerce me into doing something I do not want to do. And since I don't do it even then, she should stop using this ploy but still, it saves her money, and as the (French) saying goes "there are no small savings". Oh God, does she know that one! I think it's her entire life's motto, basically.

Today she tried yet another tack. I was surprised to hear her talk about my health after I had made it clear several times that she was not allowed to meddle, but hey, someone's life is on the line, and I mean HERS, so she just has to get involved to make me do something that she will say is for my own good but which in reality is to save her own neck. Same old, same old. She said that the reason I'm not getting treatment for my leg is because I enjoy people being sorry for me. Now I would like to know who is sorry for me? To the contrary I have been harassed and made to feel miserable because of my handicap, so I have even more of an incentive to get my leg healed. Besides I have told her several times that I am being harassed mercilessly (and I swear I'm sure she is the one who told people to harass me). She even said once that she understood the people who were doing it, because, according to her, they thought I was "overdoing it" or "making it last for fun". To which I had replied: "On what basis do they determine that I am overdoing it? Do they have any medical knowledge? Do they know my patient file? Do they have any right to form an opinion on my medical status?" So on the one hand she paid people to harass me because I am crippled to give me an incentive to get treatment, and now she says I'm enjoying people being sorry for me. Well, I don't know anybody who is sorry for me, and certainly not my mother to begin with!

And of course, today we also spoke about money, and as is her habit every time I ask for my inheritance, some 150,500 approx. euros plus interests for the past ten years, she switches the subject to the allowance she gives me or doesn't give me and we switch from a six figure number to a two figure number. She started by saying that she had put fifty euros on my bank account:
"... but not in cash, I'm sorry, it's a check I put in your account. "
(She wants me to be desperate and check every day if the check has cleared in time for Christmas.) -"Fifty euros, for Christmas? You've got to be kidding!"
-"But it makes a total of 185!"
-"185? What do you mean?"!"
-"Well, there was the twenty I asked someone to slip under your door, then there was the forty I put in your account...!"
-"But the forty was last month, you said it was for my birthday! Oh! I see! You mean 185 euros over three months! And maybe you expect me to send you flowers! Mother! Stop torturing me with minuscule amounts! You owe me 150 500 plus euros and ten years interest, so stop torturing me with ridiculous amounts."!"
-"But the forty..."!"
I hung up.

Yes, there was the two ten euro bills someone slipped in an envelope under my door after I called her saying I had no money to buy food. And seeing how little it was I called her again. She knows that I go out shopping only once every ten to fifteen days and that I buy food for two weeks at a time, which I get delivered. She knows, I told her. So about the two tend euro bills she said "Well, you can buy yourself enough food for two days;" That was at the end of last month.


DROP ME A BYTE

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