May God and the Angels shield me and my cars

Long before I was abducted from Germany and kept in the USA against my will, I knew being in the USA would do nothing but visit catastrophe on me. My ESP was correct; the beginning of my disability was before the age of 18 when the driver of a GTO was playing with his rearview mirror instead of watching the road. "Daddy" , being an ignorant control freak, settled a matter which left me with constant ligraine headaches and arthitic spurring and disc degeneration in my neck by the age of 25.

When I was 19 years old, I was staying at a friend's house in the Watchung Mountains (New Jersey USA), nowhere near my Thunderbird which was parked in front of my abductresses house.
I came "home", so to speak, to a car with the front end crushed from the top down. The next door neighbors identified the culprit, so I knocked on his door. He gave some story that he was coming down the hill and his car became airborne. Actually, I think he was towing withou a license and misjudged grossly where to place the towed car on the old winch & hooks trucks. I never parked there again/
In 1972 I had loaned my VW "Bug" to a friend who chose to shortcut a traffic light, ending up in an accident which broke her arm, left her with some facial stitches and minus a few teeth. Thankfully, their baby son had been dropped at the sitter's and her husband, as passenger, was unhurt. But the car was totalled. The Ouija board had kept going "accident, accident", but did not define who or where. I said to my partner "Maybe it means "accent", at least I hope so. But my partner and I were so close at the time, the channeled energy in the universe was dead on right.

In 1974, my then-fiance and now long my ex-husband, "bought" (he hadn't paid for it) from a friend a Pontiac Firebird. I was in the bedroom of the pseudo parental home when I heard the crash. I turned to the female parental unit and said "That"s my car." Her reply was as usual when it came to me. "No, it can't be."

I walked out to find the Firebird up on the lawn of the pseudo-parental abode with not a straight line or pane of unbroken glass. The driver was drunk, had come around the corner, pushed my car into a telephone pole and up onto the lawn, goetting out of his van slurred "I'll give you 15 bucks to fix your tail light lady."  Hello, Police Department? You're not going to believe this but...."The driver was drunk? We believe it." So drunk he was handcuffed and arrested, his van towed, even though the drunk driving laws of that time were not a primary concern of General Public.

Then came two fender benders and the revelation that the insurance agent had absconded with the premiums, being at the time employed by a grant of the Federal Government (USA), pockets were too empty to repair my car. We tied the car to a telephone pole and pulled the fender/bumper til the headlight was once again pointing where it should.

Working as Project coordinator at Princeton Plasma Physics Lab on thr Tokamak Fusion test reactor projects, I was assigned to pick up a car for my immediate overlord from the airport for him. Within 24 hours, he wasn't paying attention and slammed into a car stopped in front of him. Because I had checked the car out of the airport, this somehow got on my records although I was 5 miles from the scene-the distance from my office to the front gate where the collision occurred. Of course RPC Industries, the subcontractor I was working for paid the damages, but the damage to my reputation.......I got a 99 on my driving test, and very upset that said overlord acted like it was nothing. He also acted like it was nothing after he put his name on the Baseline Configuration Report I had compiled while he was in California. I tendered my resignation. One of the VP's wanted to discuss it. I was in massive pain from a dislocated shoulder blade which froze in place and after speaking to the VP, he said I did not have to wait til my quit date; the culprit would have to handle matters which staff handled beforehand. Within days of said events, my friends Brian and Richard, who had come to work there at my request also left; I later learned that two of the other engineers left without giving any notice, they simply stopped coming in. It is heartwarming to know that I am worth something to the people who matter. It is those persons and thse like them who do not let the culprit continue coddled when I get mad at the USA in General. As the Lord said before the destruction of Sodom & Gomorrah, "For one righteous man, I will not destroy it."

The next calamity did little damage to my Mitsubishi Tredia L but toalled out my spine. I was at a Yield sign when someone came flying off the egress, slammed straight smack directly the rear end of my car, sounding like a Mack truck hit me, me thinking "Oh God. I'm dead." and propelling me into traffic. The culprit didn't stop. After the white flash of light I found myself looking at something grey and realizing I was looking at the carpet on the floor. I had a tremendous pain in my head and could not even pull into the driveway og the Holiday Inn. I had to stop wherever I was. I didn't know immediately. Then I wondered why there was water on my head. I put my hand up and what came back was red. "Why do I have red water on my head?" Then I realized it was my own blood. Cars by this time were blowing their horns. I decided it was best to get out of car and find help. For some reason, I was trying to catch my blood in my hands. The car behind me, who had been blowing his horn, jumped out to yell at me that I couldn't just stop my car and walk away when I said But could you help me? My head really hurts. Fortunately, Police were right behind him. There is no way I can sufficiently praise Carteret Police and the Rescue Squad. I had total and caring assistance and was able to turn my life over to their expertise. One officer explained that inertia reels don't lock in rear end impacts and I was flopped back and forth like a rag doll despite the lap and shoulder belt. I was 36 years old and considering having a child. That accident ended any thoughts of that.

In 1997, I was stopped  for a red light in a bright red Dodge Daytona when the car moved as though I'd run over a railroad tie in the road. Nope. The girl behind me jumped out of her Jeep, saying "Oh my God, are you all right? Are you all right?" I got out to see the back of my Daytona folded in like an accordion. I asked her what happened and she said "I thought you went."How do you not see a big bright red car which is not moving? Again, car totalled. Her insurance, based in Texas, paid me the maximum Blue Book amount plus and I finally found someone who would fix the car for the money at hand.

Next calamity occurred when an 88 year old man swerved to avoid a garbage can in a construction zone. The flagman waved me though and though the traffic had been stopped at the other end, there he was. He caught my bumper cutting into the metal and and tearing open the side of his car, not stopping for 2 full blocks, and then had the audacity to demand an apology from me and on to the point where police threatened to arrest him. Without consulting with me, my insurance company paid for his damages. I learned this when my policy renewal came. I had already gone through the actual physics of the thing with the police and the Department of Insurance; trying to get in touch with my insurer, they told me they didn't need that, they had taken care of the matter, and it wasn't anything major anyway. I changed insurance companies.

The new insurance. Allstate, despite all their "We're the good guys" advertising, are far from it. To begin with, one of their clerks entered the wrong information of my checking account and listed their screw up as me having bounced a check. Oh, and they couldn't change it because it was already in the computer. But on my record.

In 2009, a tree fell on my car, crushing the roof and breaking some windows. They decided to "low-ball" the car. A car which since it's initial purchase had been "Saturn Pampered". Every maintenance interval was faithfully met, it was hand washed and polished only and maintained by Saturn dealership only. It was in pristine condition. I had one hell of a fight with Allstate over their assessment. It turns out they hadn;t bothered to look at my car, they used some phony computer generated trashed out car as a parameter to evaluate mine. Even worse, someone slipped me the information on what was offerred for the broken car. It exceeded what Allstate had offered to me. I again sent my report to the Department of Insurance. Next thin I'm seeing is Allstate mimicing and acting out and broadcasting, after twisting it in their favor, the items in my complaint to the Insurance Commission. I'm not really sure what they do except collect reports and exist; it seems the Insurance Commission has no power over the insurance companies. My mechanic found someone who fixed the car. There is a why they did this: GM had taken over Saturn. GM closed down the Saturn factory, no doubt bevause they were making great cars with staying power and cars that last are not a good thing for these Capitalist Pigs.

I got a letter from another insurer at Allstate renewal time. I had the check in my hand but chose to call Farmer's/21st Century before going to the mailbox.  As aforementioned calamities go, shortly after switching companies, some woman who probably was trying to retrieve something from the floor of her car started rolling toward me making a left turn with a full on green light. Instead of hitting the brake, she accellerated. She had the audacity to attempt to blame me and used some seriously disturbing disparaging words against me. However, there are times when I am as tough as tempered steel. One of those times is when someone tries to intimidate me or force me to committ wrongdoing when I did nothing wrong. I tried to get her to pull her Chevy Impala over to a safe area under an overpass, but she just kept cursing at me, and pulled across the intersection into the opposing lane of traffic. My call to T-Mobile 911 in fact states "Ohmy God. I hope evrybody is paying attention. She just pulled into the oncoming traffic lane." Fortunately, nothing further occurred.  It didn't seem like much damage, though it sounded really bad. It was over $2,010.00 in damage to my car. It was only then that I learned my car is made out of a certain type of plastic, and except where the plastic was cracked, it seemed to have regaine it's own shape post-impact but the front fender was pushed forward also making my headlight askew. I have to give thanks where it is is due. My insurance company, Farmer's/21st Century for holding my hand all the way and GEICO, the insurer of the Impala's driver, for their rapid and friendly handling of their responsibility. Nothing like Allstate, who acted all-in-all not as insurer but my adversary.

Now if someone hits the hood or the passenger side of my car, I will have a completely rebuilt all brand new outer vehicle. I have to maintain the rest, but for some reason, insurers usually don't care how rotten the mechanical parts of the car are as long as the "window dressing" looks good.

So, everybody, if you see a little Saturn Station Wagon, stay as far away from it as you can-I'm not selling it, so you have no reason to be by it. And no one I know who owns a Saturn wants anything else. That's how I felt about my Mitsubishi, but US mechanics had a major prejudice going against any "foreign" cars. Never mind that it was a Chrysler product.

I keep getting a survey question about when will I buy my next new car. Sad to say, but I must answer "never". Please leave me and my Saturn in peace.

Medical Malpractice or Obsession- Part II

To condense, my Dad now sits in a rehab center as I don't dare take him home with such a gross wound and still on intraveinous drugs.

After having brought him back from a stroke only to have a greedy little girl nearly kill him, the nursing home he was in was succeeding in stealing his will to live. I changed the door locks on his house to exclude the greedy one who still had a key and with an aide and without his son's knowledge, took him home. It took us 3 days to get his body temperature back to normal from them having him on an air mattress with no warming  barrier in between, merely a thin sheet; no top sheet, just a thin thing they called a "blanket".


It took us two weeks before we were able to get him strong enough to help us get him in and out of his wheel chair, bed and lift-up recliner. Within the month, he was walking again, so traumatized however he does not to last discussion remember any of this.

What led to this was "Miss Greedy" feeding him God knows what combination of drugs after I had already taken him to the doctor and he was already on medication.With guidance from the wound care center, I healed 3 large wounds and by myself, 4 small ones he had endured from collapsing when "Miss Greedy" forced him to get out of bed after I told him not to get out of bed til I came back. It was Septmber 3, 2009. just days before his 75th birthdayI had found an empty house, calling the police station to ask if the ambulance had dispatched. I got all sorts of disavowals of knowledge. One man called me back and siad he thought that the ambulance had been sent earlier but wasn't sure where they went. I called his doctor, who at that time still cared about his patient. I guess my Dad was making a lot of money for him considering that "Miss Greedy" managed to get my Dad stuck in the hospital nearly every two weeks.

When the aide and I took him home, a nurse from VNJ was ready to call in hospice services. Her exact words: "This poor guy can't take another hospital stay."

So if they were trying to kill my Dad, they failed at that time.

We had just celebrated his not having been hospitalised for 2 years under my supervision of his care and caregivers. I was told by one that I was very strict with her. I was able to tell this one I didn't have to be, she was strict with herself, but I am no more strict with anyone than is required or I would, being able, do myself.
I insist on all surfaces to be steam disinfected, no dust, no residues, garbage emptied every night, medical supplies, bandages and the like seperately triple bagged and immediately disposed of. My Dad's home was cleaner than some hospitals in the USA.

The aforementioned aide left because the State of New Jersey refused to renew her Certifications unless she worked through an agency or in a Nursing Home. My, my, how they bleed us dry.

The next aide was initially conscientious, then became acquainted with "Miss Greedy" who under yet another name was being "The Avon Lady". That aide, just like "Miss Greedy", was also discharged for neglect of her duties, negligence of the patient and direct as well as indirect insubordination and lieing about it, as I discovered when once again two wounds which could have been easily averted by a simple baking soda footbath every two or thee days and daily foot checks and ointments. How hard is that when putting on another person's socks? I had not been able to get there for a few weeks due to having to wait for an engine to be built for my car. When I discovered the wounds, ergo the lies, I didn't do what I wanted to do - I am not a physically violent person - but did not immediately throw her out of the house and render her homeless.
So I began to heal my Dad's feet. The wound on his heel, which had gone to the bone, was healed, the other in the process of healing, but she was banished to her quarters the moment my car pulled into the driveway.

Around his birthday, my Dad started having asthmatic bronchial spasms. I should have treated them myself. Instead, I took him to that doctor in question. The doctor's secretary was on the phone cancelling appointments and told us she had just called to cancel my Dad's but there was no answer.  The doctor didn't feel like staying in his office to write prescriptions, so told me to take him to the ER. No problems there. After two days, my Dad was cleared to go home and the foot doctor couldn't contain himself over the care I had rendered to my Dad's wounds. We spoke for a good ten minutes; his cardiologist just said to him to tell me he's fine, he can go home.

Enter the villain.

Apparently, he had gotten greedy and refused to release my Dad. He had him on an alarmed air bed that if the man so much as moved an alarm went off. Since the cardiologist and the podiatrist and the hospital had declared my Dad able to be discharged, his docotr was unmonitored except for the nurses who for some reason are fearful of countering the doctor or goin to administration. Seven days of these shennanigans and I told the nurse to have my dad ready for discharge at 4PM the next day. At 2:30 I finally got a call from what they refer to as his "primary care" physician ("his doctor") opening with the statement "Your Dad is in very bad shape." He wasn't when he went in there, just couldn't stop coughing, went through my head. Then came a string of lies about this and that and this test and that test (which upon learning later what medication my Dad was being given would have yielded a false positive reading for kidney failure and liver damage). I told him "No. I'm taking my father home".

I called the hospital and spoke to the nurse about these sudden alleged tests. The nurse (a man) called the doctors who were on staff in their field of expertise and neither had been called at any time during the week for blood or urine tests and "primary care" had called not ten minutes before he called me begging them to set up tests for the time I said I was taking him out of there.

My Dad was shaky and could not walk without leaning on me to get to his walker. Later that day when I changed his pull-ups I saw balck and blue marks on his belly. I asked him what that was and he said he didn't know, they weren't telling him anything. I called the hospital.

The black and blue marks were fro injections of Heparin, which my Dad's cardiologist who attended his quad bypass 12/2001 had very clearly dictated a letter stating that blood thinners were not to be used on my Dad.
Interim, the wound had scabbed over. That in treatment of diabetics is a great big NO! In addition, while my Dad had an open diabetic wound, the charlatan stopped ALL of diabetes medication. It is my belief that the intent was to kill my Dad.

We ran about to do all the tests demanded by the culprit, every trip out undid the healing which appeared to have begun. The tissue was patent, the scab had disappeared, but the wound, although not appearing infected; looking at them with jeweler's glasses, the appeared clean. So also agreed the foot doctor, but since the wound was widening we switched to saline dressings from alginates. The wound had been healing so well I didn't bother to order more alginate dressing. It appeared they would not be needed. But we were setting my Dad up for hyperbaric treatment and were in the process of doing all the clearance tests required for that. He was seen at the Hyperbaric center, they looked at the wound and said he was definitely a candidate for it, it would speed the healing and lessen chance for infection. That was a Thursday.

That Saturday, I put my Dad in the shower-there had been a lot of seepage and I did not want to tear the bandages off, so let the shower water dislodge them. When he came out of the shower, he left puddles of blood as he walked. I stopped the bleeding, cleaned the wound and dressed it with saline wet-to-dry therapy. I inistsed he not walk, but made him use his wheel chair.

On Sunday, my original aide came back on duty except for his foot care. Being a CNA(Certified Nursing Assistant), she naturally was standing by to help me. She came close to nearly having to revive me after I removed the bandages from my Dad's foot. I told her to look at it. She said "It wasn't like that!!!" I said "No, it wasn't." I was in shock. And I remain in upset beyond description.

What happens when a blood thinner, Heparin is specified, is administered with the presence of a Reactive Oxygen Species Bacteria (the hospital x-rays & MRI's showed the wound clean and no infection in the bone), the podiatrists having thought my Dad was discharged, nobody bothered to clean or keep the wound from scabbing over; administering Heparin against the directions from my Dad's cardiologist and my objections, Dr. Tusharkumar Mistry decided nobody knew anything and he was going to load my Dad up with Heparin, never having taken a bacterial culture or given any attention to the wound and just disregard everything everyone else said be cause HE was smarter than anyone else. And the bacteria had really high blood sugar levels to feed on; the Heparin causes the scavenger cells (phagocytes) from locating dead cells and engulfing them, in essence, making like pac-man and eating them up. While the wound had externally appeared to heal, there was all this dead tissue from them letting it scab over undisposed of because of the Heparin. The thin tissue which had looked patent was covering a pool of clear yellow exudate mixed with blood. When that oozed out, what I saw was a cavern with tendon and bone exposed.

Perhaps without the delay in the Emergency Room, the surgeaon might not have had to cut out 1/3 of my Dad's metatarsal bone or flesh the size of an ice cream scoop through the full thickness of my Dad's foot and they would have succeeded with IV antibiotics. The surgeon said there was no time to waste. He did say he didn't want my Dad to lose his foot. He called to say he had successfully removed all the infected bone and tissue, which was really difficult. I was still stunned from what I saw, how long the delay was, and having been told the previous night that no one was considering surgery. I'm glad he didn't tell me the mortality rate from this is 73%. I didn't know what to say to the man but "Thank God. Thank you."

I will have to call him to find out what we do next. Later I have to meet with my Dad's prior to 2008 physician and fill him in on the horror show my Dad, his son, and I have endured under that other man, who presented himself as the rescuing night in shining armor but houses one of the blackest, most rotten hearts I've ever encountered.

So you may wonder why I didn't get rid of him before. My Dad made the mistake of writing a dual Power of Attorney wherein his son and I had to agree before any action could be taken. And at the time, he was so enamored of "Miss Greedy" he couldn't see the harm she was causing, much  less any idea what the doctor was talking about or listen to me. It was more than an entire year wherein we did not speak.

I am enraged inside that someone came along and destroyed all the sometimes excruciating work (I'm disabled-sometimes my body is a total mass of pain, my sleep is whenever it comes, I eat when I rememeber in between making sure my Dad is cared for, his medicals are in order, his finances are in order, his house is the optimum of cleanliness and attempt to do the same for myself.

Everyone keeps saying I have to put myself first. In a convoluted sense,the effort I put into keeping my Dad  well is putting myself first. Because keeping him well, I don't have to heal him. But the nurses and aides and too many doctors don't care about that; how bad a diaper rash has gotten (so bad Dad needed IV Mitronydazole) or even tell the doctor that the man has had feces running out of him for a week (I told the doctor-he took a culture-it was a stomach virus and required oral mitronydazole). Yet they tell me that they had to change his pull-ups 6 times in 7 hours.

God help us. More needs changing than just the financing of health care in the USA and I hope this writing will prevent someone else from losing a limb or their life.

Prinzessin Hohenzoller 

Medical Malpractice or Obsession?

We keep hearing things about the greatness of the US medical care system.

It's "great" allright, in the senses that it's large. But "great" in the sense of "good" it isn't.

I've been going through hell this past week. Why?

Because an obsessive/compulsive/Napoleonic Complexed physician nearly succeeded in causing the loss of my diabetic stepfather's foot.

For two years, I've been doing daily wound care nursing, rain or shine, well or ill, for my "Dad", who unfortunately, has become diabetic. The wounds on his feet have not been properly diagnosed or treated since day one. They come from restless leg syndrome, wherein he "doggy paddles" his feet in his sleep and from a bad habit he has of propping his legs into a "v" by leaning them on his heels. These developed in my absence while he was under the care of a delusional person who first called herself a homemaker, then a home health aide, then thought she was a nurse and finally thought she was a doctor. She was anything but an actual caregiver, the position she was hired for. My stepbrpther, his own son, is not the most observant or astute person when it comes to well-care. Between their shennanigans, they almost killed my Dad.

In the hospital, his already severe diaper area wounds became so severe his buttocks were bleeding. No attention was given to the wounds on his feet. The docotr was pumping him full of blood thinners and Vancomycin, which did nothing for his wounds. He was moved to a nursing home where I took control and demanded they allow me to take him to Wound Care Center at St. Peter's. They were reluctant; I was adamant. I got my way. Coming in to the nursing home to do the wound care daily as prescribed, they finally got on the ball and seeing me come in with my little pink medical bag, they finally got panicky and started doing the wound care as prescribed. (I had complained to the attending physician that they were failing to do so.)
That was 2009. I healed 9 wounds on the man in this time frame. On October 17, we celebrated that under my supervision, he had not been hospitalized in 2 years. Prior to this, he was in and out of the hospital like it had a revolving door set up for repeat patients. I couldn't get my brother to see. After October 17, 2009, I changed all the locks on the house and basically kicked all but my Dad, myself and a real Home Health Aide out. It took us 3 days to get his body temperature back up to normal; 2 weeks for him to be able to get himself out of his wheelchair and into his chair and bed. He was unable to do so when I "sprung" him from the "nursing home". This country has few true "Nursing homes"; they have "sick & elderly storage" facilities, where they put you and wait for you to die.

The first encounter I had with a "Socail Worker" at one place my dad was erroneously sent left me stunned. Her first question was "What are your wishes in regard to your father?" I said "We'd like him to come home as soon as feasible." She said that wasn't what she meant. What were our final wishes for my father. I told her we didn't have any "final wishes" at this point, we wanted him well. If he was going to die, the hospital would have kept him. I learned that isn't so anymore necessarily. They ship them off to nursing home. Which accounts for a lower mortality rate at any given hospital. Who knew?

After they refused to let me take him to the hospital when he was obviously having a stroke, as soon as he made it clear he was planning to escape on his ow, I was going to take him out on  visitation and get him t a medical facility. They called 3 days before and wanted to know if we had gotten him a caregiver as they were going to release him on that day. They released him, saying, he'll be back or he'll be dead. Well, with 20 medications, some he should never have been on, keeping his blood sugar at 90 or below to keep him quiet, no wonder they thought so.

Within 5 days, my Dad was clearly not himself. I called my contacts who advised we bring him to a facility which was both medical and mental health. We did. His heart rate had dropped to 32 beats per minute and that was why he was acting as though in dementia, in conjunction with being heavily overmedicated. He was in for a week, out for 2 days, and back in again. This time for so many weeks I lost count. Epinephrine shots directly into his heart. The only person he recognized was me. He thought he still lived in a home he hadn't lived in since he went into the army at age 18. He was going to go out to the corner and take a bus there. He got confused and hallucinated a toilet next to a sink in the hospital hallway where there was none. The bathroom in his room looked like part of the wall, even I couldn't figure out where it was.

He finally got out and I got the psychiatrist to take him off the Depakote Sprinkles. She switched him to Abilify. I fired his Home Health Aide for refusing to take his blood pressure when I knew there was a problem. Her comment to me "I took it at lunch yesterday." I asked her, "Do you know what a nitroglycerin tablet is?" "NO.". That did it.

My dad was improving, recovering from the stroke when Miss I Am Everything decided to push her way in, and in the process first get my best friend not only to leave her caregiver position, but never speak to me again. Then she succeeded in forcing me out. And proceeded down the path of nearly killing my Dad.

My Dad and I have a very close paranormal connection. I always know when something isn't right. if not for that, he would have died in 2007. I'd had a bad couple of weeks with my own illnesses and trusted his son to watch him. I spoke to both of them, daily to my dad. They told me everything was fine. I had that awful feeling and dragged myself to his house. There he sat in his shorts with all these holes in his legs which were filled with decaying matter. I talked him into going to hospital. He stood up an colapsed. I told him not to move. I called the emergency squad.

The emergency room left him sitting in a wheelchair for multiple hours before I finally wrangled a guenry from them. That was the last time he was conscious for 5 days. He had MRSA. sepsis, pneumonia, subdural hematoma and internal bleeding from collapsing on to his walker. He had been afraid to go to the hospital because he thought they would cut his legs off. That was before the first nursing home where he had his first stroke. He already had a heart attack years before and a quadruple bypass, but was still a normal, functional human being.

Everyone refused to allow his usual doctors to attend him. Everyone refused to transfer him. Along came this nice little man who asked to be put in charge of the case. He gave me his assessment and it made sense. Initially, in my experience, there was no physician who was more attentive to his patient.

But my Dad had been put on Abilify. One night I missed a dose and my Dad seemed normal the next morning.
I gave him the prescribed dose and he was whacked out again the next day. I researched it, told the doctor. He had to put him in the hospital to observe this himself before he took him off the medicine. It escalated. More and more hospital emergency room admissions, and my dad getting sicker and sicker. When I took over, I fully researched everything. If the medicicne was stopped, I told he docotr at next scheduled visit. He'd get mad. Under my care, my Dad didn't need him much, just the right medicine. Which it turns out he wasn't getting. He was given medicine for high blood pressure when his BP and heart rate were low. He was given Lipitor when his strength and muscles began wasting away. He was given blood thinners contrary tohis cardiologists' orders. He was kept in hospital despite all other docotrs having cleared him to go back to home care.This one refused to discharge him, telling "Your father is in really bad shape." I asked what was wrong. In reality, there had not been any reason for him to be in the hospital, I was met with a barrage of lies and excuses. I took my Dad out of there after speaking to everyone who had cleared him to go home two days after admission. When I took him out, he was barely able to stand on his own. I learned that they had been giving him shots of Heparin in his belly, taken him off all diabetes medicine, and given an IV drip of Vancomycin. On admission to the hospital, his foot wound was examined, x-rayed, MRI's, scanned, re-examined. The foot doctor was beside himself with praise for the condition I had his wound in. By the time I took him out of the hospital, no one had done anything but run a 4oz syringe of saline and putting a gauze square, unsecured, on it. the wound had expanded and begun to be infected.

Under home care, he began to improve, but I wanted to be sure I was moving in the right direction. I took him to a foot docotr whose group had previously healed a serious wound on my Dad's foot, wherein the flesh had detached from the foot itself. The doctor opted for slaine threapy and heperbaric treatments. In process of getting the tests needed for hyperbaric treatment, the wound had begun oozing exudate mixed with blood, with slight infection. I use jeweler's headgear to examine the wounds. It seemed to have cleared enough for my Dad to have a shower. I left the dressing in  place and let the shower water soak it off so I wouldn't cause it to bleed.

When he came out of the shower, the wound was puddling blood. He was somewhat "out of it" and I had to holler at him to put his foot up, it was bleeding a lot. I stopped the bleeding, checked for infection, cleaned it with saline and dressed it. I put protective quilt batting and the booties on him to protect the wound. When I changed the dressing on Sunday, the wound had collapsed from the inside out and his bone was clearly (to me)visible. I got him to the docotr Monday and told him I didn't think this could wait for Bariatric; he agreed-the toes and heel were cold, but the instep and above were pink and very warm. He said to go to the emergency room, he needed immediate IV therapy.

The ER was a nightmare. They didn't triage, they just took names. Despite the docotrs having called ahead to have my Dad admitted, we had to wait with a bunch of people who were there simply because they hadn't gone to a regular doctor and felt it convenient to go to the ER now. After 3 hours,, due to muscle wasting from the Lipitor, my dad couldn't stand any more. We had to leave.

I called the doctors the next day. They said go back tothe same ER. We got there at 4PM. Finally at 11PM someone attended my Dad-despite having given the admissions people all the information, that he had a severe infection with an exposed bone and emaceration and was oozing blood and exudate from his foot. 
Thursday AM I got a call from a surgeon whom I had never heard of telling me they were ready to go into surgery to "debride" the wound. I told him I wanted to call someone else. He told me there wasn't time. I asked him, are you telling me this infection is moving so fast you can't wait?" He said "Basically". I asked him a couple more questions, like "You are only going to debride the wound, nothing further? etc." He said he really wouldn't know for sure til he got in there and saw it, he only had 10 minutes to get into the o.r. and I had to talk to the anesthesiologist, who wasn't in such a hurry and listened carefully to what I said. My Dad came through fine, and seemed to be recovering by 2PM when I got to the hospital (his Home Health Aide had been bedside the whole time). That is until we saw what this debridement consisted of. Like someone had taken an ice cream scoop and chopped out a piece of my Dad's foot. The surgean had taken 1/3 of the metacarpal bone, but the tendons were intact and said it was difficult because the infection had gone into the joint.


The discussed the whole thing with the cardiologist the other night. I gave him the whole history. I don't remember the medical name, but the heparin injection which had been ordered by my dad's "Primary" while in RWJUH had somehow disrupted the oxygen supply and the infection began from the inside out.

It's a good thing I have a lot of self control. I am very careful around my Dad not to cause any cardiac issues or stress him into a stroke. When I saw the flesh gone from around the tendons and the bone that Sunday night, I wanted to scream with all my might. I couldn't believe what I was looking at. With and without my jewler's workbench glasses.I packed it with saline as the last pack of alginate composite had disappeared. I told my Da, "It's really bad. I don't know what happened to it, but it is beyond anything I can take care of.

We left the ER, I changed the dressings with saline. Before leaving for the E.R. the next day, I found the Fibracol Plus I had left. The wound nearly swallowed up a four-folded piece 2"x2" Fibracol. By the time the E.R. took us, it was satuarated, as were his bandages. They never removed the Fibracol and left the wound open. Finally they wrapped some gauze around it. While he was in a hallway with all kinds of people going back and forth, a wound down to the bone exposed. Why? Maybe because he said he wasn't in pain. He has diabetic neuropathy and no feeling in his feet. He had no idea what was going on down there. The doctor asked him why he was ther and he said "Because my doctor said I had to be." They wouldn't have cared even if he was in pain. They didn't care about the lady who was in severe pain. I told her she did not have to stay there, she could go to another hsopital, which was what was going to happen if we were not seen within the hour. I was on the phone to another ER when they called us in.

I'm sick over it. And that's not even the end......

more mistakes and overstepping report tomorrow-like why is the infectious disease doctor prescribing cardiovascular drugs when ON THE RECORD the patient's cardiologist's partner was in attendance....

Prinzessin Hohenzoller

No Fiddler on This Roof

First time in my American apartment in 3 months, and "Fiddler on the Roof" is on the tv.

As I watch, I see the miracle of love can still exist amidst the demonizing essense of prejudice and hate. Hope can still exist even when all seems lost. For many, the human spirit is strong enough to move forward, not look back, start afresh, or simply clean up the rubble of destruction. People can unite and therefor, survive.

It is not a thin most of the USA has learned. They are seperated, relying on money, kissing up to the rich and powerful, or just plain expecting someone else to do it. It is a place of selfishness, of phoney definitions of success, of egocentricity and self-aggrandizement with no basis in fact. And it is an unfortunate fact that those mst arrogant are those who, with the help of governent money to put them through scholl and their background of color and heritage has given them a position which allows their arrogance. I am a recent victim of this. I thought I would not see the day where a black person would be prejudiced againts me. But it happened, by one of the chraracter above described, over a stupid traffic ticket for nothing mor ethna not having my inusrance card in my possession.

The prjudice was obvious from the man saying to me- being the age of 60 - "You can come in
in just a momen, young lady." I hadn't even knocked on the door jamb yet.

Then came a tirade about his wife and him being in an accident in Detroit and being hit by someone, thank goodness they had insurance; he'd hate to be hit by someone with no insurance.

Being the vicitim of several cars slamming into mine, mu response was " I wouldn't like to get hit by anyone."
I have learned that most of the insurance companies are a scham and they get away with their scams, are never brought to justice and never pay for the extent of the damage caused. In the long run, what they pay makes little difference at all.

I told the prosecutor, I simply did not have the card in my posession. It was obvious he had already made up his mind that I am many things which I most certainly am not. Beginning with "Young Lady". Moving on to his unsaid assumption that I had no insurcance in effect because I stated that the document was not in my posessions because I had left it at home with the intent of changing companies.

He apparently also assume the ticket existed because I had committed some kind of infraction.

Fact is, there have been numerous females with long blonde hair reported missing all over the television. Having fallen down the stairs the forenight of this day, I tried to realign the vertebrae in my neck which was interpreted by the officer going southbound (i was going north) that I needed him to pull me over. I commend him for that, for obvious reasons. Obvioulsy, I was not speeding as I had sparained my ankle in the fall the fprenight previous and had the cruise control set at 40, relieving the pain in my lower extremeties. However, he had to follow form and request driver license, registration and insurance card. I had two in my possession, both expired. He had to write a ticket on failure to present document after asking if the insurance was in effect.

He wrote it as a "court appearance required", most likely with the same certainty that once insurance was established, it would be dismissed, asis the normal course of action. That is not what happened.

I listened to the prosecutor's litany about the legislature has set mandatory payment of $150.00 for not having the document in possession. He continued to list the fiens for no license, no registration, that failing to have registration in possession
carried a more pubitive fine that not registering the car at all. He stated the fines were mandatory due to action of the NEW Jersey Legislature. I asked who do I pay the fine to , you? No, he aid, I had to sdee the judge first. The judge was stunned when the prosecutor said he was asking for the maximum. The judge had some questions for me. I told him, I simply did not have the card in my possession. Apparently, the fine being mandatory, mitigating circumstances were ireelevant. The judge was clearly upset, except that he established no one had coerced me into pleading guilty and I agreed to pay the fine. What choice did I have?

The judge's ruling or the ticket itself without this so-called legilative ruling was a $5. fine and $33, court costs.

So  I paid my $189.

I am waiting to hear from th prosecutor the exact particulars, statute number and content which he cited, as I intend to file a redress of grievance with the legislature. I am awaiting a reply.

I have spent my life making certain I drive within legal bonds. I have been ridiculed,beeped at, screamed at, given the finger, cursed at, derided for "driving by the book" my entire life. I have been permanently disable because other drivers slammed into me while I was driving within the bounds of the law, yielding to traffic  and pedestrians as mandated. Yes, there may be accidents listed on my driving record, but none of them were any wherein I was outside the bounds of the law. In fact, I dropped one insurance company because they chose to settle a claim without my knowledge wherein clearly the man had swerved into my car and kept going. He was near arrested by police for disorderly conduct (and most likely drunk). The Inrance Board and the Police Department, after I submitted the scientific evidence of events which proved I could not have hit him. My bumper was torn forward and not pushed in as it would have been had I hit him. The scientific proof showed I could not have hit him. My insurance at the time made light of it. It wasn't major; less then $500., not even reportable. But it was major to me. I simply do not create accidents. On 3 occassions, I was nowhere near on my. On one occasion, I had been sent by my employer to pick up a car at Newark Airport for my supervisor. It was to go under the compnay's insurance. My supervisor, as typical, wasn't paying attention and ran into a legally stopped car in fromt of him. It went on my driving record.

I'm waiting to hear that the prosecutor's decision was based on my age and that particular record.  I am not a current member of ACLU only  because I could not at the time afford the dues, but I did recently connect with a local Political Action group.

Justice in the USA? Liberty for all? It's been nothng but one big lie and becomes more fascist with every minute that someone isn't blowing the whistle on the government ot challenging their right to enact unconstitutional legislation. This particular item is both cruel and unusual to a driver of my age. I have been driving since 1968 with zero infractions.

I am alone. I am in non-stop chronic pain with acute episodes in between, trying to care for a stepfather who chose to drink himself into oblivion which did not kill him but left him brain damaged
for the balance of his life. There simply is no brain tissue in certain areas. It was destroyed by alcohol and the brain cells will never grow back. He is on of the most major scoff-laws I have ever encountered, especially whn it come to driving. So is 50% of New Jersey, judging by what I have to endure while I am upholding th law.

And now this. And I say to myself "Why do I bother?" It was a desperate fight to keep my Midnight cat alive. A fight we lost. I had to let her pass out of this world after 15 years of loyalty and love. Do they really think I give a damn about thier little hissy-fit over some dumb-ass card which does of itself do absolutely nothing at at all? Which are easily forged and passed off as legitimate while the driver is actually not insured?

I've know for some time that the government doesn't care about anyone's constituitonal rights, about victimizing people and treating persons as though thye are criminals when they are anything but? They gave me no justice. They deprived me of 4 hours of liberty travelling to, from, and waiting in court, and $189. which I intended to use for physical therapy.

Do you call this justice? Cause I sure don't. And if this is the place-and I truly believe it is-where Armageddon is to be invoked by the Almighty, it is because they deserve it. I believe so. Based on these things they call "Natural Disasters"..........well, befor they ruin the entire thing and the rest of the world with it.

Prinzessin "Pegi" (Regine Hohenzoller, von Vater Nikolaus)

Gato Noire-A Sad Part

My little Midnight cat, the subject of my poetic tribute in "Rock My Soul" for some reason decided to stop eating. My initial remedy was to buy two of everything on the market to tempt her. No success. She was, however, drinking water. No defecation except a couple hard little rabbit pellets.

Next stop, veterianarian. God love her, she has been the best thing for my animals and me. They love her. I tell Midnight, "we go see Dr.K_ _ _ _ tomorrow. Midnight allows me to put her into the carrier with no fuss, no fight. It was not always so. I had to trap her, even with a top loading carrier, in a corner where the only escape was into the carrier. And she cried. And she vomited. Never pleasant, but she has formed an affinity to this doctor. She knows shw will feel better afterward.

We're not thru this yet. It seems Midnight has had kidney failure. Dr. K gave her an antibiotic injection; sub-cutaneouos rehydration, and blood work. By the time I got Midnight home, she had perked up and was eating. Finally.

Next day was insane. My stepfather's home care person's incompetence left me dealing with multiple issues-trip to cardiologist, lunch, bank, to his home, moving his nebulizer so the air intake ports were not blocked and making it fucntional again (his lips were cyanotic at lunch). Ms. I-don't-have-a-brain-in-my-head-cause-I'm-lazy finally saw fit to tell me something was wrong with "his big toe". I took a look. There was something wrong with the entire foot. From the color, I panicked for a moment, saying "Might have to go to hospital." On furhter examination, I noted two injuries which had occurred a few days earlier and most likely in that yellow spectrum that broken blood vessels get in the process of healing, though very swollen. I ordered ice packs for the next several hours and went home for a nap. I was woken by the awaited timely call from the vet. She said the kidney "values" were very elevated, that I would continue to give the antibiotic injections for the next week and I was to bring Midnight in so the vet tech could show me the actual procedure for subcutaneous rehydration. Midnight was a perfect little lady thoughout the entire process. She has always been a super-good cat, with some of the endearing qualities of normal cats, like scratching the furniture and walls, but always responding immediately to my voice. I have never had to yell at this cat.

Midnight's rehydration complete, I brought her home and made a "soup" of her food-she drank it, plus water. She finally defecated while I was out on part II of covering caregiver slacking-picking up medicine for Dad, rechecking his foot, and rebandaging his hand which she now claims she dow not know how to do (after bandaging my stitched hand for a week last year). The pharm tech dropped the new nebulizer filters outside my bag. The pharmacy called and I had to go back. And forgot to pick up my own asthma medication. Contrary to rumor, cats do not give people asthma. My asthma was uncontrollable until Miss Midnight decided to move in.

Miss Midnight came with two who were left of her first litter, who were adopted out. She then presnted me with four more. I knew the night she was going to have them, I left early despite having some songs to sing still. I went to sleep. In the morning, I checked the closet I had cleared for her delivery. It looked like she had four sets of rolled up little socks next to her, two fully black, two fully white. The two little black ones were in demand, the two little white ones I kept. As they grew, they developed "points", one short haired, the second for a time looking like a fuzzy little caterpillar. One turned out Tonkinese, the other Balinese. Miss Midnight herself is a Bombay. I told her, I have no idea who you were with, but you certainly have excellent taste. She was a good little mommy cat, and I made sure she knew that. She gave me the biggest, longest lasting joys I have ever had in my life. But the pollution and carcinogens took their lives when they were 12 years old. I thought I would die, that my heart would explode. Miss Midnight wasn't faring much better. Much support from my vet for me and what to do for my little girl. But it wasn't the same. Even now she looks for them. There was a beaver "out back", who from a distance resembled my Dusty Kitty. She'd call to him from the window. One day I saw one dead in the road. Our beaver came back no more.

They say there is little hope for cats with renal disease, that it is always fatal. Something always is. My Midnight cat is 18 years old by the vet estimate; I thought 17. She came to me 15 years ago and has been a very content and sweet companion except if her litter box wasn't pristine clean. Then I wouldn't hear the end of it. She insisted I immediately clean after her use of it.

One winter after I lost my "little guys", there was a cat in distress in the ice & thaw cycle. I hadn't planned to keep her, but Midnight, I thought, might want the company and the cat seemed well behaved. Then there came a jealousy. So today, after I heard a hissing from the bedroom where I had put Midnight for peace, Kawasaki Kitty got chased out of there by me. We had a twenty minute conversation. This cat answers me! There has been peace since then. A really good kitty. She always finds the part of me that is in pain and lays across it and the pain goes away, like she is absorbing it into herself. I hope it isn't hurting her.

Meantime, I was down all Saturday from exhaustion:physical, mental, emotional. I made the cat "soup" for both cats. Kawasaki isn't eating Midnight's food anymore, but is also not eating if Midnight isn't. That's a little extreme compensation, so I'll have to remind Kawasaki that she is to eat her own food.

Later today I will be making my first attempt at subcutaneous rehydration. Midnight is very good. I'm very good at giving needles; one of the little ones I lost took seven years of insulin shots from me. And he'd come to me when it was time for his next dose. Wish my stepdad was the same when it came to his. One night I had already drawn his blood and given him his shot and he was sitting there with his sleeve up, telling me he wasn't going to wait all night that way. He pitched a fit that I'd done it without him "knowing." That was the point. It only hurt him because he knew what I was doing, not that what I did was hurting him. I had to leave the house. His whining and howling was unbearable and beyond absurd. I don't think it'll be that hard to give my Midnight what she needs.

So we return to the vet next Friday. Meanwhile, some research revealed that a commonly prescribed antibiotic by the name of Gentomicin is suspected in contributing to kidnay failure. Yes, Miss Midnight had some for an ongoing eye condition she came to me with when she first became "my cat". Another interesting item is that a drug called Tresaderm is also used. Tresaderm contains Merck manufacture thiabendiazole, which contains significant level of nickel and/or zinc as it's effective ingredient and it was working on the site which manufactures this during the manufacture time that nearly killed me. The Merck Index claims there is no lethal dosage level in this primarily agricultural substance, but further independent sources do list and LD level on it. Why is that? It's their biggest money maker and the will blame anything they can rather than admit their product is not only a potentially lethal substance, but has also in fact intensified the funguses it is supposed to control. And we get to drink the milk from the cows they use it for instead of rigorous cleanliness and correct lighting.

Making the entire thing typical of USA's failure to keep up with modern medicine, a drug was developed which everywhere else prolonged the lives of cats with renal failure. Novartis got the rights to it by purchasing the division of Saankyo Lifetech which manufactures "Kremezin". I do not know if the FDA has finally gotten around to approving it yet orif it's hung up in their capitalist machine as with most things. The most expensive drugs have the trial periods waived and sometimes kill people. They've had since prior to 2004 to test and approve Kremezin.

Meanwhile, all I can do is what I have to do and hope my little Miss Midnight (she is only 7 lbs. right now) has the will and strength to get through this; that I have the blessings of God once again to effect through me the healing which I am about to undertake this week and probably the next few years. Having had this cat for so many years, I'm far from ready to let her go any time soon. I put a Miraculous Medal on her collar because when I wore it andprayed over my stepdad's diabetic wounds, they healed within two weeks after not responding for 18 months. The docotr at the outset then told me "You are doing the Lord's work now." Yes, I guess I am again. I pray Divine Providence be with me to heal this little cat.

Prinzessin Hohenzoller
July 3, 2011

Drei.

There were three children. Apparently, USA "Human Rights" don't include stopping someone from bleeding to death internally bevause he was too sick to have the means to pay for his care.

Rest in Peace, Harald Franz Gango
Born 16th August 1952, Tomorroe, Germany
Died April 25, 1999, New Brunswick, NJ USA, after many years of abuse and neglect at the hands of "Amerikans"

The only one who has anything is the one born to the American on the US Base in Augsburg.

Truth.
Pegi

Another Cruel Hoax

Hillary Clinton is once again spending money to lecture another Continent about what she herself failed to deliver to Citizens of the United States of America. And sees no problem with spending money which could be used to secure those human rights in the United States. The USA is a failure, politically, economically, and especially in human rights.

If people can actually afford a doctor, they cannot afford the surgeries, medications or follow-ups to go along with that. Many go to sleep at night and spend each day in hunger and pain. And she is going to tell a continent of which she knows nothing about human rights. Were there any, I would have been home in Europe first off in September 1959, secondly no later than Christmas 1971. I have not been able to escape their failure to grant me the right to be even who I am and live where I choose to--not in the USA, at home, on my Germany, at my house, with my people, with my Human Rights and dignity intact. The ways of the USA and their so called Democracy which is nothing but a guise for Capitalist tactics, refuses me that and has so refused me for 52 years.
So don't lecture Europe about Human Rights, Hillary. You have gangs in the streets here demanding theirs even if it means taking a life for the sake of surviving in this mess you promote worldwide. Hallary Clinton is no one to be talking about Human Rights. Especially given the ongoing prejudice against anything not "Umerikan". Do you really think prejudice against Negroes ended ? It hasn't. Not on the street, not in the courts, and certainly not in business. Don't let her deceive you and cause you to follow that which brings nothing but heartache and lifelong enslavement.
I lived in Europe for 8 years and 5 1/2 months. Never was there a day when I did not get as much food as I wanted, the medical care I needed, the heat required to keep me warm. Not so in the USA. I received cardiac care in Germany from the age of 4 to the age of 8, when I was forced to stay in the USA. I never again got care for my cardiac condition until I got a doctor who was trained in in Indida. That was from 1959 until 2005. My condition is such that I could have died at any moment. 46 years to get medical care?

I never had kids becasue of pain in my lower right abdomen. It turned out there was a massive cyst which had swallowed my right ovary. The pain began in 1965. It was not treated until 1994. That is 29 years without proper medical care. It could have burst. Had I become pregnant, it would have burst and cost not only my life, but likely that of any child in my womb. I always said "If I EVER get pregnant, I am leaving for Germany IMMEDIATELY." I already knew I couldn't trust the USA to do the right thing. And Hillary Clinton thinks the US and she herself have some right ot lecture Europe on Human Rights? Not by my life.

And the USA has another problem. The people aspiring to higher office are icapable of differentiating a period from a comma. The preamble of the Constitution is a compund sentence. Yet everyone reads it with a period after "the commonf defence" instead of the comma which there stands, which commands, "to ensure the general welfare and domestic tranquility";none of whic they choose to include in their abridgement of a compound sentence to what they always accuse the media of "Taken out of context". It has repeatedly been taken out of context to deprive other nations of their Human Rights, their Sovereign Rights, and the right to maintain their own heritage and identity.

Comes another wolf in sheep's clothing to you. Do not mistake it for anything else. The USA is a failure. It cannot stand without you. And it should not stand, period, until it accepts the fact that the only thing it has over the rest of the developed nations is more weapons than anyone else. Human Rights? They haven't given a hoot about that in years. All they want is more fodder for theor failed and fallacious capitalist regime.

Prinzessin Hohenzoller