I’m considering a sex change. I have thought about that since I was rape. I ‘ve been exorcised, maybe twice. The thought was that another’s semen planted in my anal canal might be DNA that somehow transferred. The black interracial porn is all about ‘breeding the white sissy’. I’d been bred. It was a ‘demon’ idea. In a parallel universe or somehow inside me there was this unseen ‘idea’ growing. I was changed and changing. Perhaps I’d been impregnated by the ‘other side’. It all seemed to begin with homosexual anal receptive sex. It was painful. I felt linked and unable to fight back. I tried to get away and then I was penetrated and the pain was excruciating. I bled for days. I blacked out at the time, dissociated, saw my life pass. It was horrific. It’s just ‘bursting the cherry’, as the guys later said. No big deal. Just like a little girl losing her virginity. But I changed. I felt weaker and less daring and less courageous and careful. I felt the world wasn’t a safe place. I felt that ‘no’ didn’t mean ‘no’ when I said it. I’d always been polite, raised well, and here I was leaking blood and sperm and poo out of my anus. It was frightening.
I didn’t talk about it. I kept it a secret. Now I wonder if my DNA was reprogrammed because after years of robust maleness, a consummate lover with great praise and much demand and no complaints till I grew weary of the sameness, I didn’t think about it. I had enjoyed being stoned on pot and drunk and having an older man perform fellatio on me. The sensation was exquisite. It was as close to riding on a barge down the Nile being fed grapes as a person can come. Effortless orgasm. I’d even enjoyed penetrating a man before that fateful day, all that happening in the first month or two that I’d smoked marijuana. The summer of 69. And I’d gone home and my family had taken me in while I took a job to pay my way. I wanted to be an artists, had friends who were homosexual, didn’t think of myself as such. I loved girls. I masturbated to images of naked women. I loved sex with girls. There was no choice. I forgot about men except the night my girlfriend went out to have sex with another man and I had the thought I’d like to know what it was like to have oral sex. I’d done everything else. It wasn’t anything. More like mutual massage. No semen. Bodies enjoying. Then a decade of heterosexual life and not a thought about men or homosexuality or oral sex or anal sex. I was doing a lot of cunnilingus. She’d told me she’d never had an orgasm with intercourse with men and rarely with me, so needed to do manual massage and best was oral. So I served for years and hours and saw a chiropractor for the neck strain and enjoyed the experience except the ‘dismissals’. Then the movie ‘deep throat’ came out and I asked if she’d do that and she said “That’s dirty. That’s gross. No woman would like that. It’s disgusting”. And here I’d been years between her legs and felt humiliated. I was loathsome to her. Real men don’t care for their women. Real men treat women like accessories, throw them aside when they’re finished with them, like she’d dismiss me and want me to finish quickly. As long as she had her orgasm that’s all that matter. And I knew. Her mother talked about men as owing her for very very presence and I felt the nightmare close in. I had wanted children and there was no children but all the talk about how her perfect body would be ‘deformed by childbirth’ and how ‘women who have children’ are ‘ruined’ phusically. It was a time when women were chanting that a man is as useful to a woman as a bicycle is to a fish. I was listening all day year after year to women complaining and criticizing their men viciously, collectively and individually. And all she wanted to do was go home to her mother who was certifiably insane. She tried to kill the father and had to be stopped physically with no charges and everyone understanding that ‘women get distraught’ and I saw that the ‘victims’ were the victimizer. I saw good men and bad men but ‘identity politcs’ said ‘men are bad and women are good’. That’s when the first female judge found 320 cases consecutively against men. I was studying cooperative behaviour and realized that people didn’t want cooperation. The ‘people carrying signs, mostly say hoorah for our side’ just wanted to be on top. I had fucked and been fucked but a whole lot of people just wanted to fuck. When they weren’t fucking they wanted to fuck you over too. I loved the angel that night in the hot tub on the trip I’d begged her to come on but she’d wanted to go with her mother instead. I was drunk on champagne , celebrated by all my colleagues, loved for my presentation and participation. I’d never had any praise at home. It was all about her career and I’d spent nights helping her while working my three jobs and here I was alone and everyone was praising me and she turned to me in the hot tub, that utterly gorgeous brilliant beautiful woman with old pockmark scars by her ears of adolescent acne, the crack in the Japanese cup, the imperfection in an otherwise perfect being. And we kissed. And she said to me. Have you ever had deep throat? I said no. I experienced bliss. I died and went to heaven. Champagne sated, in a hot tub with such heavenly relaxation and the most gorgeous voluptuous dark haired angel sending me over the moon. And she smiled, a big smile of pleasure and accomplishment and skill and just delighting in my obvious joy. And I’d felt good giving women pleaseure. I’d thought that the idea was mutual pleasure. I’d later serve her and she’s serve me and we’d miss the final day of the conference and love our time in the fine hotel room with room service and sex on the hour. Heaven on earth. And she didn’t ‘dismiss’’ me when I gave her pleasure. I didn’t feel like I’d just been ‘dismissed’. I didn’t feel inferior or superior in sexual relationships except the one time I was ‘used’ and ‘raped’ and screamed ‘no’ as I was been torn inside and thought I’d die from internal trauma. Rapists often say that ‘you’ll never forget me.’ It’s nothing to do with the size of the cock. It’s the violence and threat and lack of lubrication and speed. Today I imagine I might like him. I’d take all his anger and hate and transform it to love. I’d not be disgusted. I know women who do that and men who like the men beaten down by life who pound their women and men like they punch their fists in the wall helpless against the authorities that have abused them. I know that feeling. Pinned down and ploughed. Not at all the way to introduce a virgin to the world of sex unless you are an insecure little psychopath with a little dick and a need to cause pain and in my mind his cock was huge but now I know it wasn’t. I was threatened by a little man I’d stopped beating up his pregnant wife, a real ogre, a satanic spawn and he turned on me and I was ready to fight. A show down in the obstetrical unit. Me in my white lab jacket, all set to go into my old street fighter movement watching his eyes, ready to react. And he ran. When the police asked for a description I’d said he was my height 6 feet. He was only 5’4” by the description of all the other observers. So we know rapists dicks are little but they feel bigger like the four inch knife we say was 8 inches. The damage is done. The pain is great.
And I told my secrets to my mentor and told him how the woman had punished me and rejected me and how I was persona non grata and I was in my final days and told him all the failure and shame and pain and the rape and deep throat and the hours of cunnilingus and chiropratcters and he told me it was all spiritual and drunk and stoned in his house after dinner and sadir dinner with his wife and children he’d undressed me like a fly in a spider web and I kind of smiled as I lay unable to move and he sucked my cock hard and ten turned me over and penetrated me with oil slowly and sensuously and I loved the feeling. I didn’t say no. I was shocked. I’d trust him and shared all my secrets and realized I knew nothing of him except his title and his home and he’d promised me a spiritual sexperience and I supposed I was healed in a way. He filled me with his cum and I felt truly bread like I was impregnated with knowledge and love. He was a kind man in many ways, spiritual and Fay like me. I sensed his connectedness. I had spent years in meditation and days mediated dawn to dusk with monks and he’d done some spiritual proactive himself. I felt I was in training to be a Druid and accepted this was part of the arcane training. I talked to a woman in my program and her mentor had had sex with her and she was as confused as I wondering if this was necessary for graduation. We’d never been told. There were several of us. The good looking ones, the sexy ones, and the top of the class and we saw that the uptight Christian wasn’t included, The married ones seemed not have had to do what we did. And I wanted to die. I didn’t want to be his receptacle. Because I felt now that when I said ‘no’ he didn’t listen. He ‘d come to my home and I felt used. I’d begun to feel dirty and ashamed. He spoke lovingly about how we’d be able to work in the same department, I’d been offered a job as a head and he was a department head and our offices would be in the same hospital and he’d try to thrill me with the thought of quickies and he loved risky sex, it thrilled him to fuck me in the car or in an alley. I was terrified of exposure and still married though my wife wasn’t having sex and saying she never could forgive me and I left and it was a nightmare and I just wanted to get through and get out. And the other girl came into my life and she knew him and they would go on to be lovers and there was this whole group of people , men and women into sex and drugs and they all studied the drug addict satanist ……..I liked the feelings. I felt like Rosemary’s Baby. I missed the normalcy and respectability. I left the insaniety and forfeited the much coveted position because I didn’t want to be a ‘quickie’ bum boy. I loved women.I dreamed of women. When I masturbated rarely it was too women. But I’d liked when he asked me in his wife’s black lingerie and ‘d looked in his eyes as his filled me with his cum and I’d felt safe in a way and loved. But I knew he was crazy.
I escaped in an old Volkswagen bug with a bag of Thai weed and smoked it all before I head south to California to do my American exams and take the job at Stanford or perhaps the one at Berkeley. But my car broke down in Vancouver when I came that way to see the Holograph exhibits at the World Fair. I’d concluded that god and our relationship was best described as holographic and the DNA and holographs and all that idea of the idea of god and the word I’d held since days of monasteries and had never changed with electron microscopes and nope I was ‘bisexual’ having lived and loved a woman who was sexually fantastic and cute and sweet but I’d taken to wearing women’s clothes when she was away. I’d not done that since childhood and now I like to dress in skirts and leotards and walk in the woods. There were rapists and I imagined that I was playing bait and that if they tried to rape me I’d kill them. I was smoking a lot of ‘sesamia’ then and thought it would be okay to kill a rapists so I walked in provocative clothing at night where rapists were sited. I imagined beating them and killing them. Getting back at them for hurting women. I know it’s about me and who knows maybe I wanted to be raped. All that Stockholm syndrome stuff and identification with an aggressor.
I’d see a psychiatrist and talk to him for two years about his colleague and about the rape and all the feelings and the sense of demoralization and I drank then. I’d been betrayed by a colleague, a liar who’d killed a patient by mismanagement and tried to displace the blame on me. But I’d made a copy of the records showing he’d given the orders that lead to the patients death. Naturally the records disappeared and only when it came up and he was denying any involvement pointing the finger at me in public meeting did I pass around copies of his notes and his orders. He lost his position as head and I was scarey. And I saw a psychiatrist because i was scared. My life was being threatened phone calls at night. Lies and lies and I was with this nurse who’d admitted to working at night in a massage parlour for money, no sex, just hand jobs for tips and she was the most beautiful incredible sexual and exotic woman but it unfolded she was doing coke on the side and that’s what she needed the money for after she took mine and I escaped but I told all this sexual stuff all the feelings and all the betrayal and the ambivalence and wearing women’s clothes comfortable at night to come home and shut the door and put on a black negligee and smoke a joint.
But when I stopped drinking and sought help the addiction doctor said I needed to report the doctor who fucked me. I did. Those silly men didn’t know how powerful he was and how many there were like him. The death threats again. Phone calls in the night. And the psychiatrist said ‘he’d never talked to me about sex’. Weekly sessions for years and I’d come back and discuss them with my psychologist friends and they were saying I was psychotic and making up the story about this great man…..and my psychologist friend wrote a letter saying I discussed our sessions weekly and they were all about the sex and I wondered if I was losing my mind and I was clean and sober and now the lies were lies and more lies and all my journals had been stolen by my ex wife. She was smoking pot and doing coke. I was in the divorce and all my money was taken and I just wanted to get away from her. She’d tried to kill me that last year when the drugs got bad and she was insane and refused to go to a treatment centre….so I stopped everything. I needed all my wits about me. I was smoking pot and drinking a bottle of wine a day but I was in that last month smoking a couple of packs of cigarettes.
This is an anniversary of that time.
The psychiatrist said he was sorry he hadn’t kept notes and he wouldn’t speak against a colleague. He told me he was a coward. He told me he was weak. He’d asked me why I’d seen him and I said I thought he cared. He did. He was a sweet shallow man. A failure. I read the Bible and thought of Peter and the cock crowed.
I wouldn’t today denounce a colleague. The government police are so corrupt and evil that nothing a colleague did short of murder and continued murder and pedophile warranted involvingly the despicably evil corrupt doctor police in the matter. I’d lose years of my life being punished by one woman after another for saying the ‘word’ fuck.
The other psychiatrist said I was schizophrenic and bipolar and told me I should drink and smoke dope and he turned out to be a friend as well of the doctor who fucked me. They were all friends. A close knit group of sexually liberated men who had wives and children but had sex with students and patients and didn’t share the same boundaries and morals. I learned about the history of the department and the field from senior colleagues in years to come. No longer drinking and smoking dope I began to know the doctors who didn’t drink and smoke dope and they were by far the majority but they knew the sex addicts and drunks and gamblers in high places in the department and in the college and in the courts and parliament. I was trusted and sane and vetted and now welcome in a world of stability. “Yes, we always knew he liked the male students but no one came forward.’ “He was in the military and a drunk but he had family and was good in his work. If he hadn’t drunk so much and run around with women he might have risen higher’ they said of another. “He was always weak..spiteful…nice….did you know he only saw 40 people for 40 years. …you were probably the only real psychiatric case he’d seen in twenty years.’…..he’s a member of the government….they gave him his house….don’t you remember the CIA mind experiments….he was the one who did it …he left Toronto and the partner took the rap…..of course he had sex with all those women….that’s why he hired psychiatrists with perverts. Thank God for the new head ….he’s just a researcher and doesn’t like all that nonsense so the department has benefited for the last 20 years , none of the drugs and sex that was there when you came, at least not in the open. The majority of people just want to go to work and not have to deal with that drama. Remember the day when they stopped serving alcohol at the faculty and people had to buy their own….that was a major fight in the back rooms but that was then.’
It all goes on. Scandal. Top dogs and bottom dogs.
I was uncertain what to do today. I thought of getting dressed in a wheat coloured linen skirt and cute sheer summer blouse. I thought of putting on my armored sweat jacket and riding the Vespa with the dog on his back to Commercial, sitting outside and writing. I like to sit in a skirt and blouse and write on the side walk. I like to sit in a suit and write on the side walk. I like to write and I like to sit and watch people and drink coffee. My dog likes to sit at my feet and smell everyone that walks by. When I travel I like to do that too. I have the fondest memories of Laura leaving me in Ireland while she went to shop and I sat in an outdoor cafe plucking away at keys. I have another memory like that in Italy. I have such fond memories and so enjoy her companies. We’ve been together over 20 years, not married, but intimate. I have some of my fondest best sex greatest nights of sensuality with her, she’s gorgeous in a bikini and a wonderful lover. I don’t want another woman. I liked strap ons. A woman switching roles. I liked a woman who liked to be on top. I so enjoyed her. I liked a woman who wanted sex desperately and took me. Laura is traditional feminine. I wish I’d met her and had children with her but I expect she was a wholly different person and might well have killed me or I her when we were younger if we had kids. Her husband and she fought. He was an alcoholic. She left. She raised her children and often has nightmares. I wake her , calm her.
I don’t have so many nightmares now. I had them for years. There was such violence in my work. I was held hostage, I was in plane crashes, I went through ice on skidoo and thought I’d die walking across the winter freezing. We left the skidoo at the bottom of the lake and I could only trust the lost guide as we couldn’t see trudging for hours to the reserve unable to see in the blizzard, clothing frozen like boards, I save two lives that day. In addition to my own.
I didn’t like being shot at. I never liked being stabbed. I’ve only been injured by the car crash and motorcycle crash and ATV crash. My back hurts. I don’t like to have sex on top because my back hurts. I feel badly saying that. I’ve used viagra. I’m in pain alot but I don’t trust doctors. The police read everything and punished over and over again their women and their junior doctors coming into torture me. I staggered from one bludgeoning celebration to another my lawyer protecting me from death. Pulling me from the room when the doctor police doctors screamed ‘Women don’t lie about sex’. I’d fired the secretary doing crack at the office stealing and she retaliated by demanding $5000 dollars extortion money and when I refused and paid lawyers tens of thousands of dollars and exposed her using my computer for pornography on the job, nothing was done and the women banded to get her and her boyfriend threatened to kill me and smiled as she claimed then that she was afraid in my prescence , retaking of drugs once working as a street whore and they said there’s only one victim card and you’re white and a man and a doctor and ‘women don’t lie about Sex’. She was laughing and lying and there is a special place in hell for these women who lie about sex. The new industry …..I was fucked and I told the truth and I was fucked over and I was fucked over and over and over again and all I did was say ‘fuck’. “This is fucked’.
I’d written a blues song ‘Hey man what a fuck up “ in my teens and was physically attacked by a pastor when I played it at a coffee shop and expelled from school when I was asked to play my music and recite my poems at the school. The doctor police said “You should have learned by now.” I was told I couldn’t say ‘fuck’ . The Prime Minister lies. Fuck yes , the book made million but the whole bureaucracy and years of my life and a time and hundreds of thousands of dollars and lawyers forever because “You can’t say fuck” she said, he said. The doctor police didn’t care that I was fucked . They didn’t care that I defended the falsely accused repeated. They didn’t care that children were killed. It didn’t matter that the patient died. Just make sure the chart is pretty. You can do anything in a suit. Just don’t do it in jeans. And don’t say the word ‘fuck’. I learned years later how many other doctors were persecuted men and women. The corruption in government was unprescednted.
I kept hearing from one source after another ,”you’re the best clinician I know….you’ve treated the most complex cases I know…..you’ve had the toughest practice…you’re the best doctor…you went where no doctor would go….you served in the most dangerous places …..’. My colleagues and patients and all the referring doctors were so kind…….I just heard over and over again…..’you can’t be a professional and use the word’fuck’……a gentleman wouldn’t use the word ‘fuck’…..you musn’t speak like you do….you mustn’t ask questions of patients….you must turn in your colleagues…..you must watch them…the other doctors are dangerous….and I did turn in the doctor who was killing patients and tried to blame me…I’d not have if he didn’t try to blame me….all my most illustrious colleagues stood by and were mum when he was killing….his assistant told me the damage and deaths and injury he caused and that I was the only doctor who had said anything….she thanked me …said she was afraid she’d have been thrown out of her university position if she’d said anything. Her family was poor. The rich have infinite resources. I know. I was fucked by a man from the wealthiest most powerful family and no one dared speak out against him, even my psychiatrist. It’s a clique. Trudeau paid off his victims. The Judge finally got caught in Prince George. The Epstein Island got exposed and the media turned away from the scandal . Of course Epstein committed suicide, no doubt with a little help from his friends.
I went sailing when my wife was insane and I had nightly threats of death, phone calls telling me that I was going to pay for going against the powerful. I thought it was best to leave. I never wanted to come back. I had a job in Tennessee. She wasn’t so crazy when she was not at home in the mausoleum, and she had no dealers.
I don’t know.
Today my mind jumps back to those days. It’s like this every June. June I stopped drinking and smoking dope and tobacco and walked into a church because I’d always felt safe in church. I’d been always feeling good with God and felt I’d turned my back on God. I felt that smoking and drinking had eventually become more important than prayer and meditation. I began to devote my life to Christ again in June. She’d not wanted to go to church.. I’d married two women who didn’t like God and ‘church people’. They were both party girls, liked the ‘party’ , liked night clubs. I danced. I liked to dance but I’d always been in spiritual places, churches, ashrams, monasteries and i began to read the bible again, I spoke with men of God….I had studied theology, I’d felt a ‘calling’ to practice medicine , left my study of theatre and instead ended up with a scalpel cutting flesh and delivering babies and eventually curious about non cooperative behaviour and non compliance and addiction when a boy lied and died because he lied and his family lied and he wasn’t on the medication he’d been given. I learned that 80% of pscvyhiatric patients don’t take their medications and 30 to 50% of normal patients don’t follow the doctors advice. I saw millions of dollars of drugs in the cabinets on native reserves because mothers don’t ‘force ‘their children to take pills so the multi million dollar assumption fort the multi billion dollar pharmaceutical industry was they needed a more expensive treatment. Then I found the revolving door detox was just that. I’d moon lighted as acting head of detox to pay for residency and the fine things my ex wife wanted, my wives demanded I make money for them and I always made 2 or three times the income and did the ‘wife’ jobs and ‘husband ‘ jobs and was ‘grateful’ and they made it clear that I was a loser, “Do you know that I’m a better woman than you are a man….I’m better looking and smarter than other women..I’m the A…I’m the hostuff…you’re a B in the mating game , B plus at most but not in my league….I could have had anyone I wanted…men and women worshiped me for my looks and brain so don’t think you’re okay…you’re lucky to be with me….I’m out of your league.” I missed something . I never thought like that. I liked her . I liked she fucked me….I liked she married me and then she began to talk just like her mother…that was the mother…she’d said the same to the father but I wasn’t a failure. I was being applauded, top of the class and she was struggling and I was helping her all the time. I was always helping women. Intellectually , emotionally, financially. i think women see men as tools. We’re the drones and they’re the queens. as long as I was fucked I was happy but then the witholding and rationing begins. Sex as a reward. The female game of marriage.
I’ve raised dogs. I know. But I don’t like the game and I fart. And you point one finger and three are pointing back. And she was perfect and I wasn’t . I bought her a house and her sisters’ husband bought her a bigger house and the house I loved now was no good and my dad and I had worked on the house and my friends had worked on the house and she didn’t want a psychiatrists. She wanted a surgeon. She didn’t want to work except in the university and wouldn’t go to the country and wanted more and more and more and I was working all the time and she just loved fine restaurants and clothes and this whole stifling world. I liked to camp and canoe and fish and hunt and it was the day she painted the walls pink and told me she didn’t want any of my photographs of bears and moose in the house , I had to get rid of that and she didn’t like my parents and my friends and her mother didn’t like my friends …..what a nightmare. But she was perfect and I’m a man, men are scum.
A day doesn’t go by that CBC doesn’t tell us about ‘toxic masculinity’.
So I thought to fix my dinghy.. I’ve got a set of wheels to put on it and a security light to go in. It’s dark now the sun has gone behind clouds. It’s cool. I have cleaning to do. I think of male task, and female tasks, what we called ‘blue jobs and pink jobs’ on the sail boat. I fixed Diesel engines and cleansed bilges and climbed masts and faxed a countless array of fears and was always dirty but I gained skills and also I cooked. I don’t ask women to do anything. I ve been yelled at so many times just asking to pass me the wrench. I’ve had a million lectures from x wife’s and spent decades hearing women complain. They compare men who go to work and come home and pay the bills to Hitler. The news is a constant scream of the failures of men and no one is allow to question the performance. I watched a woman doctor permanent disable a child and my ex knew her, a political doctor, no one said anything. My wife cried one night.She ‘d worked with the nurse later found to be a serial murderer. “I want to report her but I saw what happened to you. I need my career.” She felt even worse when weeks later the story hit front page and she had seen the nurse poisoning the person. “I saw her. I could have stopped her continuing.” I comforted her. I told her it was past. She was caught. She’d probably seen her last victim. She was getting sloppy. You don’t criticize nurses. I worked in a hospital with 28 perfect nurses and one psychopath. I was in terror when I was on call with her because she lied all the time and went for coffee and left patients to die. I’d saved several patients and repeatedly reported her but she was married to an important man.
Politics and connections.
I wonder if it’s sex addiction. I think of wearing a sun dress and walking along looking ‘pretty’ . Having children is what makes women women. Their capacity for child birth is what is the number one differentiating factor in biology but the most ardent feminists are the greatest abortionist. They call ‘women who have kids are cows, breeders’. I have lesbian friends, a couple of nurses I knew for years, cared for them as a doctor but first as a friend. They were not. Like this. Two beautiful older women who worked for decades in the north because there they could be lovers. They’d stay with me. They loved everyone. Several of my lesbian friends today had children first before they left their husbands so they’re mothers and don’t disparage families. Yet there’s these young angry women who are offended by everyone and looking for a fight and dangerous to be around. I had some in my practice and I felt my tongue was always on egg shells. They ‘re like the violent bullies looking for an exude to hit you. I’ve looked in the eyes of a hells angel ready to die, “are you disrespecting me’. No. I said Looking him back thinking as I have ‘it’s a good day to die’…..I’m aa predator. I fight and bullies are always looking for easy prey. But I don’t like big egos and walking around on eggshells or being with people especially in the LGBT community looking for a slip of the tongue. A teen ager just last month secr3eamed at me that I was. “Racist …you’re racist…you shouldn’t be allowed to be a doctor….doctors like you hurt the natives….you’re a disgrace.” She’d responded like that because I said ‘when i worked for ‘Indian Affairs’……she was a very rich priviledged special smart kid who’d never served spent years working with aboriginals where they couldn’t get doctors to go because it was too dangerous or too ill paid. I got TB , always remember running from a gang of natives drunk ‘screaming kill the whitey’. But that’s not what stays with me. It was the aboriginal nurse, I worked with a couple, this time this little nurse screamed at me to run to the chief ‘s cabin and then turned an ran head first into the belling the biggest fastest knife wielding young guy who I thought was going to kill men. The chief took me in and told the drunken guys with knives and broken bottle, ‘don’t kill this whitey….he’s the doctor….if we kill the doctor we ‘ll never get another doctor…go kill some other whitey’….he was very drunk and naked children were all around on the floor with naked women but he saved my life……I’d been the first doctor to go to that reserve in years. I was there and saved an old ladies life giving her digitalis for congestive heart failure. Many of the reserves I worked on , the drunk ones, the RCMP wouldn’t go, and doctors had stopped going. I asked the incredibly brave nurse why she’d done that. “He wouldn’t hurt me….I have family here… I didn’t want him to hurt you or you’d never come back and we need doctors and you’re a good doctor.”
Now I’m a toxic masculine racist….and I’ve been crying a lot because my native friend died and I can’t get over it . Too many of the people I most admired have died these last few years. It’s like the “Rapture’s come and gone and I’m stuck here on the ground”. I’m cried out. I miss them so.
I think if I’m a woman I can’ start a new. I feel I ‘ve not been ‘good enough’. I ‘ve never been ‘good enough’. I didn’t give her a big enough house. I didn’t keep covering for her drug abuse…I didn’t do this….I didn’t do that. I shouldn’t have let him rape me. I shouldn’t have spoken up ….I should have taken the fall…. I should have trusted. I should have stayed and cared for my parents. I gave them the city, her and him. I went away. I just want peace. I let her have the house. I left her millions and took my boat. I have enough now. I’ve a trailer and motorcycle and a truck. It’s more than I need. I’m blessed but I don’t know what to do. I work. I miss church. I miss meetings. I miss friends who now have died.
I used to fish when my boat was here.
I could be bear hunting right now. I could be hauling my trailer and truck up into the mountains. I’ve shot moose and bear but I’m older now and the trouble getting them to the truck afte I shot them. The elk took a whole day. The bear took a whole afternoon. I’m so tired these days. My back hurts so much. I’m tired of lifting and carrying and fighting with wrenches and axes.
I like putting on lipstick and cooking and even cleaning. I cook all the time. I formally trained as chef, worked part time as short order cook. I loved raising chickens. I loved butchering. I’ve butchered thirty or more deer. I’ve plucked hundreds of chickens. But I’m not good enough .I’m the ‘worst man there ever was’. I’m the ‘worst doctor’…I’m the worst. The problem is bad people and mad people say a lot of bad and mad stuff and good people don’t praise. It’s most ly a Canadian things but there’s also no time for praise. We learned to do our best and keep doing it. And yet says the word ‘fuck’ and you are a terrible doctor. That’s the joke, I”m Gisuppe, the greatest architect of Grecce,…I made that building, that building…alll my life I built the greatest building, I was known all over Greece as the greatest architect and one goat just one sheep, do they say there goes Gisuppe the greatest architect, no, they all say there goes Gisuppe the goat fucker.
Women don’t get it. The whole world hears that Trump liked women, had sex with women, had sex with a prostitute, had two wife’s, cares for both of them, but he’s republican. The main contender was of a religion that long supported men have ing many wives. Kennedy boys fucked everyone. Hillary fucked everyone. Clinton fucked everyone and probably everything. Meanwhile Kamala the new VP is the ‘blow job queen of California’ who fucked Governor Brown and fucked over his wife but it’s okay he’s Democrat. Demcrats fuck goats even but it’s not okay to fuck even your wife if you’re a Republican, while maybe it’s okay to fuck your wife, but only missionary style.
The doctor police have told the doctors not to talk about sex with patients as it might upset them. My gynaecologist friends almost dies laughing telling me about the college police and their perversion and cernsorship and what they expect of her , a gynaecologist, can’t talke about sex and it might upset them.
i save the sight of two babies because the mother told me her husband was seeing prostitutes and his dick was dripping and her old doctor was offended that I’d discussed sex with her as he didn’t think Doctors’s should talk about that and it was all very disgusting that this pillar of the community and his wife pregnant should be spreading gonorrhea which he as a very upper classs doctor felt was dirty….so i gave the wife penicillin and we made sure the kids eyes didn’t go blind from gonorrhea and the man got penicillin for a disorder his wife ahd developed and no one meantioned sex but I was frowned at. Leper doctors are as stigmatized as lepers.
I’m a dirty doctor. I tried to visit a patient on the surgical ward and she sneered when I told her I was the patients psycchiatrist, ‘You’re only the psychiatrist. Not a real doctor like a family physician . We only let family physicians and surgeons see patients now.” I ‘d not heard that ‘you’re not a real doctor’ since my wife mocked me and pschiatriy. She and her family weren’t crazy, alcoholics and suicidal and insane, “but we’d never see a psychiatrists…..psychiatrists are as crazy as their patients….you’re not a real doctor.’ She sneered. Now here I was thinking the nurse and walking away
“I’d rather see a psychologist but I’d have to pay for them because they’re so good but you’re free so I came to see you.”
I did a step 4 a couple of times and laid out the long lists of resentments and prayed and surrendered and let go and know that it’s perception. I know life is a road and there’s roses on the right and manure on the left and that the road floods with shit but that i just have to keep on trekking and I don’t need to go over there and watch the shit because it dones’t help to know it’s coming I can’t get off the road…so it’s better to walk over on the right hand side and focus on the flowers. There’s also enough shit now that I don’t need to look at past shit. it’s done. The psychopaths and sociopaths won. Maybe one day w’ell get better leaders, but now they like sock boys with pretty hair. What’s with the celebration of stupidity in the world, stoner and stuttering dement. They made Trump do an MoCA but I don’t think either the US or Canadian guys could consistently pass. Where’s the drug tests too. If we had the minimum standards that pilots or even school bus drivers have to meet for guys who drive the country it probably would be better. I didn’t smoke dope at work or drink at work. That was for vacation. Now I wear women’s clothes and turn off the phone or get out of Canada. When I’m overseas I go to churches and sit…..it doesn’t matter if I’m au femme or au drab…I just feel safe out of Canada and in a church. Mostly I feel safe in the woods and in wilderness or off shore at sea.
All shall be well . All shall be well. All manner of things shall be well.
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.
God, I offer myself to thee
Our father who aren’t in heaven
Be still and know that I am good.
Thank you God.
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