May You Never R.I.P.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
An incident from my past that I have never got over and never will.

Submitted: July 07, 2016

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Submitted: July 07, 2016

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May You Never R.I.P.

Those of you who have read 'Appearances' may know some of the background to the event in this essay. For those of you who haven't here's just what you need to know; when I was fourteen I suddenly went temporarily blind, which happened more and more frequently and I was diagnosed with having Multiple Sclerosis. The doctors didn't all agree and so began their lengthy argument. The incident in this essay took place about two months before the diagnosis disagreement was resolved.

I never accepted the diagnosis, that is essential to understanding just how much damage this caused. For years, I had spent up to four hours a day doing gruelling exercise regimes or on an exercise bike – when I was physically capable of doing so, that is. I never made a diagnosis; the medical professionals did.

I was offered an appointment with an 'eminent neurologist' in one of London's top hospitals. I really want to name this person but have been advised not to. Anyone who wishes to find out will probably be able to work it out by the end of the essay. It was an hour and a half's journey on train and tube but, what the hell, let's give it a go.

That was such a bad choice.

First off, an appointment with a neurologist is one thing; this was an appointment with a neurologist and all of his STUDENTS and it was to take place on this STAGE in a lecture hall. If I'd have been made aware of that I would never have gone in the first place.

What I should have done is walked away. I would have had more dignity if I had crawled on hands and knees, licking the floor and barking like I dog, than this PERSON left me with. Perhaps he had a particular hatred of semi-starving teenage girls, or perhaps he has a whole host of other victims out there who have just kept quiet.

The physical examination was bad enough, being pulled around, poked and prodded. Do this, do that. Imagine an appointment with your own doctor for a thorough physical examination. Now, instead of it taking place inside a private room, picture yourself onstage with an audience. And this audience is intent on following their hero, the one person they want to become – the top neurologist.

What is an audience there for? An audience is to be played to, and didn't he just give them their entertainment. Me, I was there to be pulled apart. Called a fake, a time waster, a seeker of attention. This was all carried out with a good dose of humour to get the laughs and to keep the interest of his avid watchers. I wonder, did they all enjoy it as much as he seemed to? And all because of a label his fellow professionals had given me.

I was already a pretty broken person but he finished off the job. Any remnants of confidence I had, he crushed in his hands for the delight of his audience. I left that hospital in total humiliation, to be called back for further tests. I vowed I wouldn't go but I did in the end and those tests showed both him and the other doctors to be wrong. It was a viral infection of the central nervous system that travelled around for about four years attacking when and where it felt like.

Did I care? No. This 'eminent physician' made me feel as though nothing about me mattered at all. I retreated in to my own world. I existed, but I also dropped out, and to a large extent that is how I have remained.

Now this was a long time ago, over thirty years. The pain of that total humiliation has not faded one tiny bit. Many people probably would be thinking 'forgive and forget'. Like most people I have done this many times, but I simply cannot do so for this! I hate this person with a passion. I want them to suffer.

I had believed this person to be dead but according to Wikipedia that is not so. He was a record-breaking athlete in the 1950's, and is now apparently a 'Sir'. He destroyed what small amount of confidence I had at 18, what small amount of self worth.

I have only one thing to say to him: “May you never rest in peace.”

 


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