Who should I be angry at?

I don’t know which one I should be angry at, my friend or that damn doctor.

My friend didn’t take care of herself. On the surface she was a laid-back, easy-going person, seemingly without a care in the world – everyone’s friend. Yet very few of the people who knew her really knew how sick she was… and how depressed she was.

Several years ago she had heart related surgery. I don’t remember exactly what.

She didn’t didn’t take care of herself the way that heart patients are supposed to and had to have another operation.

She still didn’t take care of herself. Her health deteriorated.

We had met her and her husband when we joined a mixed league for bowling. They were also just starting and ended up being our partners, and friends, for years.

As her health deteriorated, she was no longer able to bowl. Her husband stayed on the team, but another lady took our friend’s place.

Our friend developed diabetes, and didn’t take care of herself.

She was everyone’s friend, but very few people really knew her.

Part of the reason she didn’t see a doctor was that she knew she would be told that she would have to have more surgery. They still had debt from the previous surguries. Her husband was self-employed and they didn’t have insurance.

She didn’t want to build up more debt.

She didn’t take care of herself.

She had suffered for years from depression.

A sore, a blister, developed on one of her feet.

She didn’t take care of herself.

The sore didn’t heal.

After several weeks she finally decided she had to see a doctor.

The sore had developed into something worse. She was a diabetic. She had not taken care of herself.

The doctor was not a doctor she had seen before. It seems that whenever she would go to see a doctor, it would be someone different than she had seen before.

The doctor – I don’t know his name, and I’m not sure that I want to know his name – apparently really laid into her when he saw the condition of her foot.

He asked her, practically accusing her, if she was an alcholic, an addict, if she was on meth.

He told he that the sore had deleloped into gangrene and that they probably wouldn’t be able to save her foot or her leg, and, oh by-the-way, you might lose your other foot, too.

Years ago, a lady that our friend knew had been hospitalized from complications arising from diabetes. She had a lot of problems, including the loss of both legs, before she died after a lingering illness. Our friend didn’t want that to happen to her.

Our friend disappeared.

She was missing for two days.

Two days was the waiting period for a hand gun.

I miss my friend, especially on Wednesdays, like today. On Wednesdays we go bowling.

My friend didn’t take care of herself. I miss her and I’m angry.

I don’t know which one I should be angry at, my friend or that damn doctor.

This post was recovered from a retired blog – Skedaddle’s Log– recovered from Internet Archive WayBackMachine 2/26/2011 – page

This was my second blog post, which was posted, again, later, on October 8, 2007, with some afterthoughts added at the end.

blog, commentary, health, people, perception, Uncategorized, writing

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