Exit Screaming

I went out of Crouse Hospital against medical advice after 104 days in isolation.

I went to the Upstate Medical Center ER. My glucose was through the roof and I have a UTI. They wouldn’t listen to me about what my CFIDS/immune dysfunction does when I take drugs. They said I was “noncompliant.”

I was put in Observation for two days. I kept trying to get immunology, neurology and endocrinology consults. The doctor said I was a liar.

Today he discharged me to DSS. I was supposed to go there and get sent to a shelter. I was given no discharge paper work nor was I told who to see at DSS.

I am supposed to be in a skilled nursing home but Upstate is sending me to a shelter.

I remembered that I had a judge’s order that the Iroquois has to take me back, so I went there. They refused to re-admit me. I called 911 and they sent a state trooper. After studying everything, he said it is a civil matter.

There is absolutely no place for me to go, so I went back to Upstate. I asked for a glucose check, insulin, and to see a psychiatrist. My glucose is over 400.

The head of the Upstate ER is discharging me BECAUSE I RAISED MY VOICE. He will not give me insulin or call a psych consult.

I am going out on the streets alone in my wheelchair in the dark and freezing cold.

Maybe all my blogs will be collected as witness to how a moral, witty, articulate activist got totally screwed by the union of medicine and big government. Let it be a lesson to the country of what it means to be poor and sick in America.

Call it “Exit Screaming.”

About annecwoodlen

I am a tenth generation American, descended from a family that has been working a farm that was deeded to us by William Penn. The country has changed around us but we have held true. I stand in my grandmother’s kitchen, look down the valley to her brother’s farm and see my great-great-great-great-great-grandmother Hannah standing on the porch. She is holding the baby, surrounded by four other children, and saying goodbye to her husband and oldest son who are going off to fight in the Revolutionary War. The war is twenty miles away and her husband will die fighting. We are not the Daughters of the American Revolution; we were its mothers. My father, Milton C. Woodlen, got his doctorate from Temple University in the 1940’s when—in his words—“a doctorate still meant something.” He became an education professor at West Chester State Teachers College, where my mother, Elizabeth Hope Copeland, had graduated. My mother raised four girls and one boy, of which I am the middle child. My parents are deceased and my siblings are estranged. My fiancé, Robert H. Dobrow, was a fighter pilot in the Marine Corps. In 1974, his plane crashed, his parachute did not open, and we buried him in a cemetery on Long Island. I could say a great deal about him, or nothing; there is no middle ground. I have loved other men; Bob was my soul mate. The single greatest determinate of who I am and what my life has been is that I inherited my father’s gene for bipolar disorder, type II. Associated with all bipolar disorders is executive dysfunction, a learning disability that interferes with the ability to sort and organize. Despite an I.Q. of 139, I failed twelve subjects and got expelled from high school and prep school. I attended Syracuse University and Onondaga Community College and got an associate’s degree after twenty-five years. I am nothing if not tenacious. Gifted with intelligence, constrained by disability, and compromised by depression, my employment was limited to entry level jobs. Being female in the 1960’s meant that I did office work—billing at the university library, calling out telegrams at Western Union, and filing papers at a law firm. During one decade, I worked at about a hundred different places as a temporary secretary. I worked for hospitals, banks, manufacturers and others, including the county government. I quit the District Attorney’s Office to manage a gas station; it was more honest work. After Bob’s death, I started taking antidepressants. Following doctor’s orders, I took them every day for twenty-six years. During that time, I attempted%2
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3 Responses to Exit Screaming

  1. maieliiv says:

    Anne!!!!! Prayers for you. Maie Date: Fri, 27 Dec 2013 00:09:28 +0000 To: maieliiv@sympatico.ca

  2. Jack Joe says:

    I was glad to hear you had some place to go, although not warm.
    Will you Please keep my number just in case. I get SO many (you wouldn’t believe how many) telemarketing calls to my cellphone every day so when i don’t recognize the number i don’t answer – but i do then check the message (if there is one)
    So if you call please leave a message and i’ll get back to you.

    Peace be with you dear Anne.
    This was the first year I can recall that January 1st was an observable feast day
    – I’m taking that as a good sign for the new year.

    • annecwoodlen says:

      Thanks, Jack. I have kept your number–almost called you tonight just to meet and greet. My area code is 315. There are many good signs in my life that this will be a good year for me, and I hope for you as well.

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