I think I am in the Twilight Zone, I think I am lost in a Time Warp, I have nightmares about Dueling Banjo Police chasing me through forests at night, I have nose bleeds, I have been assaulted and slandered by people I have never seen before but they have similar brow ridge lines and buck teeth, it's hell and I am stranded in West Virginia. I keep hoping I will awaken in my apartment in Old Town Alexandria, Va. where I had a great job but instead I open my eyes and I see more of the same, I go out and am harassed by wierd short men and fat women with teased hair who wear too much blue eyeliner, I had my shoulder almost jerked out of socket, I was harassed at the Alter of St. George's Church. They aren't mafia, they aren't MS13 they are
Hillbillies from Appalachia, Hicks from Hell.
I had the opportunity to take an extended vacation last June, it was wonderful timing. My 97 year old grandmother was very sick and making frequent visits to CAMC hospitals Charleston General and Thomas Hospital in Charleston WV for an incurable and age related illness. My parents moved from abroad where my father was a US Diplomat and later a publisher of tourist related materials in five languages to be near my maternal grandmother in WV she was being cared for by an elderly aunt who also had serious health problems. They moved to WV and planned to return overseas to their residence of more than 30 years once or twice a year, my Dad is nearing retirement, my Mother hoped to spend time with her family. So I thought how wonderful, I could take time off and visit family. My visit was not comfortable, when I first arrived I wandered in the small and empty downtown area with an eerie feeling, there were no people. In fact WV has been steadily declining in population since the 50's, only 4 % of the population between 25-65 yoa have college degrees, WV is among the lowest in per capita income in the USA. I was frequently harassed while downtown. It was strange, particularly by a raving lunatic woman who had a fake TV camera and chased me down the street asking if I had murdered my husband. It made me sick, I was widowed in 1998. I nearly died from grief. It took me a long time to pull out of it, my late husband died on a Vessel at Guam Navy Base. For a long time I thought I too was dead. I complained to Charleston Police about the incident. Then there were others, strange short men who screamed at me in a wierd dialect, "You don't got no yunguns' you aint nothin" I didn't know these people, they shoved me on a sidewalk. I complained to police again, the police officer in Charleston said, "Did you have an abortion?"
My family doesn't associate with ignorance and had no disputes, my parents joined some of the local associations and meet well traveled educated people, my grandmother and aunt have maintained friendships with the same neighbors and friends for 80 years. I thought at first I was mistaken for someone else, but the police were mean and angry when I told them about these incidents. I don't have a car, in the District and Alexandria I use metro, have a driver through work and bus or taxi, my fiance rented cars for trips when we wanted to go someplace.
So I was at the hospital, Charleston General Hospital (CAMC) on Oct 26th 07 ready to go home to Virginia. I'd been with my grandmother all night and heard rumors from a nurse that the reason she wasn't well attended, her IV wasn't flowing and she had not received food or beverage so I brought some in - she wasn't well attended because drugs were missing from the pharmacy an the police were coming the next morning to check lockers. I thought this was distressing. The next day my grandmothers medical team had not appeared and it was around lunchtime. I walked into the hall to look for her doctors. I began to speak with a man who wore a green shirt, a name tag and had a stethoscope on his neck. He said they were investigating some problems at the hospital, something about him made my skin crawl. As we spoke a woman in a pink smock approached me and pointed a gun at my head. She forced me to beg and pray for my life, two more women walked around a corner where I stood and distracted her, she was disarmed. I was in shock. The green shirted man led the woman away and when he returned I was still shaking He screamed at me, "Get out of here, don't make a big deal out of this." I had the phone number for United States Secret Service on L St. in Washington DC in my cell phone, I had earlier made inquiries about Press Passes and had spoken to an Agent for information. I somehow persuaded the man to call Secret Service on L Street. He gave the serial number of the gun to the Agent. I verified the Agent received the call and tapped a text message to him. The man in the green shirt said he too was a police officer. He said not to go away, they would contact me. I wrote a letter to my grandmother's doctor, then waited for a family member to relieve my shift. I wrote an e-mail to the hospital and telephoned the hospital, I wrote an e-mail to police and telephoned police. The hospital returned a call which was very threatening and I was reminded to "mind my betters." The police told me to call back and continued ignoring my mail, as did the hospital. Eventually five weeks later I was "gifted" by the police with a case report number. The Detective to whom I was assigned walked up to me at a bookstore in town and asked me if I had murdered my husband and if I had an abortion. This is sick, they can easily call the FBI on Guam, Guam Navy, or other officials who know the entire story - My US Senator Jim Webb in Virginia knows what happened, so does Senator John McCain's staff and so too does Senator Hilary Clinton, our Former Secretary of State Colin Powell and many people my husband and I knew overseas. I realized immediately my tragedy was being used to hurt and me and cast suspicion on me, I don't know to this day why they ask if I had an abortion in 1984, I wasn't in WV in 1984 . The question itself brings to mind the novel by George Orwell. I did not have an abortion, but this is backwoods America where single women my age aren't respectible unless they have babies, and it is a hog chase for all of the hairy Mountaineer Men when a single woman is sighted alone on the city street, smoking a cigarette at a sidewalk cafe no less.
So months went by, I continued to regularly take my grandmother to her recurring visits to ER where the behavior of the staff toward me constitutes retaliation (I worked at a District Attorney's Office, studied Criminal Justice at Southwest Texas State University, was assigned as a journalist to Harris County Criminal Courts and also worked with a very well known lobbying firm in Washington D.C. for nine years as a Research Associate.) So I know retaliation and I began to document the incidents, each time e-mailing the police and CAMC and the WV Attorney General's office and eventually the National Institute for Health, Department of Justice, FBI, Gun Control, and Agencies established to monitor hospitals - I was always polite to staff and my grandmother's MD's. Staff was horrible to me. I have many incidents which were witnessed.
I began to compare this hospital with those in Houston, Coral Gables, Annapolis and Virginia - I found some strange things, such as the direction of funding appropriations, such as the policies which did not meet industry standards for security, such as records management, such as not having random drug tests of staff, and also of hospital expenditures on construction and
television commercials. Many of the MD's I met were livid they had not been informed of the act of violence against my grandmother and I, after their initial disbelieft wore off, they told me of many incidents involving faulty equipment and cases where the hospital equipment did not meet industry standards but the money went elsewhere, and how the hospital administrator has no degree in hospital administration but graduated from a small private college which might not have been accredited when he was admitted, and how the Board of Trustees are very deeply indebted to the Mayor's Selection Committee and how last names in Charleston in positions of authority are almost always from the same small and elite gene pool. I began to think I was in one of the foreign countries where my father was posted overseas. I began to think I was trapped behind an Iron Curtain, a Bamboo Fence, in a Dark Hole in the Ground Surrounded by Mountains and Twisting Roads which lead to nowhere other than another mountain and another
twisting road. I mentioned to a nurse my grandmother had several broken bones in the past two years but the bones had not fused, therefore her blood pressure should best be taken on her left arm, and that her collar bone had not fused so she could not be lifted without a pillow behind her neck as her MD had exhibited to us during a visit to his office. The Nurse said "She does not have a broken bone, she does not!" I asked her to telephone my grandmother's MD, she refused, I asked her to read the ER record where we always give my grandmother's history. She said it wasn't her job. She hurt my grandmother, my grandmother cried. On another occasion I could not stay with my grandmother through the entire night, I had the flu. When I returned my grandmother was in her hospital bed with the sides down, no blanket and no sheet, just a think cotton hospital gown and a wet towel on the bed. An MD whose name I had given to police because his name was on a tag worn by the man in the green shirt wanted to speak with me on one visit to the hospital. He said he was going to sue me for making allegations against him and for slander and libel. I suggested that he request specifically copies of what I had written and that he was not the only person in the hospital with that last name. I also told him I had attempted to identify the man in the green shirt but had eliminated the MD so worried about his reputation by process of elimination after viewing photos of staff on line. I offered the MD the phone number of the Secret Service Agent who has the serial number of the gun, which was loaded. The MD was mollified, but he sent my grandmother back home without her usual regimen and treatment. The next day we took her to her regular doctor who returned her to the hospital by ambulance requesting her usual treatment. This time a Social Worker said he was going to remove my grandmother from her home because although I may have "gotten away with abuse in the past I couldn't get away with it anymore" I had to remind him I lived in Virginia and was not present when she fell, that I did not live with her and all of her MD's whom I contacted agreed I am an excellent caregiver, not to mention my grandmother has help who spend 4-6 hours a day in the house, an aunt who lives with her and neighbors who drop in daily.
The Social Worker backed off. He snarled something about how he would teach me what it was like to be smeared. Gee Whiz, he said he graduated from a college in Chicago which no longer exists. Like maybe hospitals and professionals in WV do not really exist, they are playing doctor and tacking up shingles on large buildings resembling hospitals, but nothing works inside.
And another thing about CAMC. I think the employees had the right to know about the crime, I think they might want to contribute information for the investigations, they might want to avoid people who associated with the woman in the pink smock who made me "Beg JESUS for Life".
She was standing at a rolling table with a computer screen used by nurses. I think some of the employees at CAMC might want to find a better job away from crime and violence. The administrator says they don't have crime on their premises, everyone saw it and the hospital is located just around the corner from Crack Alley - now cigarette smokers have to stand on the corner near the drug dealers where the security guards warn women not to stray. Gee, you can't have a cigarette in the parking lot of the hospital because it's bad for your health, so the next time you have a family member in surgery you can get shot in crack alley, I'd like to show you a photo of this place.
And so I wrote to my landlord who said he would sub let the apartment to my friends who had to move but moved my furniture to Bethesda and my boss said he had to fill my position, and I don't have health insurance and I need dental. I am broke, and still the prosecutor and police are confused about who has the case number and the incident number and no the prosecutor says he hasn't seen the report and the police aren't sure if the case is closed, BUT I SAW THE WOMAN AND THE GREEN SHIRT MAN AGAIN at Thomas Hospital and I thought I would have a nervous breakdown, I had to fight the ambulance at my grandmother's house to take her anyplace but Charleston General , finally they took her to Thomas. At Thomas I was shoved out of a room by two men who accompanied the man in the green shirt and the woman still wearing pink as I tried to call police, I crawled into an empty suite leaving my grandmother alone with a woman who had undergone a radical masectomy I banked on the fact the woman would soon have family present and I could find a phone. I called an attorney who actually spoke with one of my assailants I just nodded when he told me to cooperate. He told the attorney what he wanted me to do, she said she would call police but does not want to represent me. What sort of gang scare off an attorney.
So I need help, and I continue to write to the Governor, to Federal Agencies, my grandmother died last week. We had trouble at the funeral. I have text messaged the Secret Service again.
It is suggested that I criticized the power structure in WV and sniggered about Senator Rockefeller among his friends. One doesn't slight the local dictator in WV, so I am really convinced I am trapped in a wierd and deviant anamoly where the good old boys waited to see if I made any money on my grannnies life insurance before they would consider my case against CAMC for premises negligence, or against the police department for witnessed harassment of the prosecutor for failing to tell me date of arraignment, plea or trial and name of defendant. SO if I do all that I really shoot myself in the foot. SO I am searching for an out of state attorney.
And I had more wierd experiences last Wednesday, my boyfriend in Virginia said I should return home and live under the radar, leaving locals here with a PO Box for me, a cell phone and I should talk to US Marshalls in Virginia. I think this is a good idea. I lost $40,000 in the last six months while I was a target for goons and deviants. My job, my apartment, my furniture everywhere else but with me, my insurance and on and on. WHY DOESN'T THIS WIERD TOWN WAKE UP - Oh Please God send my case to Federal Court, there could easily be a wierd judge too. Somebody Pray for me, I have to escape from West Virginia and Senator Rockefeller's Feudal Territories. The American Taliban exists in WV, those wierd Snake Handling Religions and Snake Oil Medicine Men who call the shots, they aren't really all they think they are, Just white men from West Virginia. Dangerous white men,
