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Date Posted: 20:47:17 09/03/02 Tue
Author: Rita
Subject: Chapter 16


The Walk-Over Page 1 of 2
Chapter 16 Words: 475
June 11, 1996

Home from Clinic









On June 11, 1996 I had drove to the Fox Psychiatric Clinic in my husband's Uncle Jack's 1989 Pontiac Sunbird. Bill's Uncle Jack died in May 1994, and Bill was the estate's executor for the two heiresses: Maxine and Virginia.

After returning home, I noticed that my husband was sitting in the family room demobilized. My thoughts were wondering what the connection was between his swollen feet and ankles and the difficult to detect bacterial-produced heart disease Endocarditis.
I tried to shift through the remnant items of reality that I overlooked. Those tiny details could hold information or directions as to where to go or what to do at the time of a real sickness.

Then Bill asked about my Fox Clinic visit. "Well," I replied, "it's a place that makes its money with human occupancy at $126-per-hour. They, too, work like human parasites, feeding upon the human brain. I was given the impression that their subjects are drained of money and life with drugs, if they don't smarten up and leave! The Clinic claims to do with medication what some people used to do with meditation."

When Stacy returned home, she walked over to her dad to whisper: "The therapist said that mother should have begun psychiatric treatment yesterday."

I was standing at the kitchen sink, doing dishes, and listening to my husband and daughter. Bill replied, "Well, we'll just have to put it on hold. I have to have somebody give me those IV's."

"Gee-e-e, dad, I can learn how to do that."



Home From Clinic Page 2




"That's all right, honey," Bill said while flipping his wrist and motioning with his hand for Stacy to calm down. "I'll let your mother do it. Thank you for the offer."

All of a sudden both Bill and Stacy stopped talking to look my way.

"Yes, I hear you two whispering. The next time you make an appointment for me, make it with a real psychologist. Don't make it with a scavenger who feeds upon human stupidity. Make sure the person knows something about medicine and how medical lies affect people!"

Bill condensed the complete situation: "Your problem is that you're hung up on Dr. McCutcheon calling you crazy."

I believed that when a medical person lies, they should be called "A Medical Liar." The Michigan hematologist was using the prescription drug law to deliberately withhold antitumor/antiviral antibiotics. By 1983 both the hematologist and the pathologist knew that they were transfusing tainted blood, and they were deliberately producing a contradiction. Somehow there was a relationship between the 1977 medical lies and the hematologist's 1983 medical lies. If the lies were noticed by the educational, medical, and psychological world in 1977, they had to be noticed by 1996 at the Fox Psychiatric Clinic.

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