Everything is well here. I have a place in time and space. Now what i am sensing is freedom from the abortions and right away i am taken back in time. At the risk of my anonymity i need to mention Jim McCormick, PhD in Psychology, and Dr. Philip Rodenbger, Psychiatrist, whose ill will towards a helpless, suffering young woman cost me the lives of two children. Dr. McCormick worked at Wernersville State Hospital when i knew him. From there he went to Hershey Medical Center. From there i believe he had a practice in Wyomissing, PA. Dr. Rodenberger worked at the Reading Hospital in West Reading. From there he went to Oregon or another of the northwestern states, i located him but i dont remember now. He got terrible ratings there.
These two men are better off dead if they arent already because, while i forgive them, i stand here now as an Advocate for the girl they bungled and abused half to death. Through them I was ashamed to be alive. They swept a massive brain trauma under the rug: 10, 15, 18 i dont know how many hours of sexual torture from the catheter in the ICU. They put on a clamp to stop me from trying to pull it off. “Her mind is gone,” a patient on the psych ward said when i returned there. “Its us they care about.” “Youre going to Wernersville!” Dr. Rodenberger exclaimed.
I don’t even want to talk right now about what Dr. McCormick did, its tiring to go back to these times. It has to be done though. He publicly humiliated me in a community meeting, im going to have to come back to this. The lives of two children were lost through serious malfeasance by Dr McCormick in the wake of Dr. Rodenbergers malpractice in THE AFTERMATH of the overdose, when i became physically violent towards my mother when i stopped taking the medicine after getting out of Wernersville. “You assaulted your mother,” he said. And washed his hands of me. He handed me over to the “crazy” doctor who handled difficult cases. There went 4 years of my life. I was trapped in the local system, a suicude case and violent, and sexually active with men at the state hospital. And nobody even knew me. Oh the loneliness of those years. And how lost i was, and how broken. All i knew was that i wanted to get back to Boston. Yet how far away from it i had fallen! And then i met ny husband, and the doctors’ dirty work proved through. I had not 1 but 2 abortions with the father of the child i was going to raise a son with, one on top of the other. I was a sick mess and i knew that the babies were sick and i feared for my born child.
All these years later i am finally finding some peace. Each of us in his or her own fashion is praying for my son. I am daring to be hopeful.
Hosannah in the Highest! Hallelujah! Amen!