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A Victim of the N.S.W. Government Medical Office Writes....

Anonymous | 23.04.2007 00:15 | Repression

I hope you don't mind if I publish this here; after all, your Queen is still our Queen so we are still, in a way, a part of Britain. The N.S.W. Government Medical Office, called HealthQuest, has for years been certifying public service whistleblowers insane. Any who dare to speak up against HealthQuest are the persecuted by the N.S.W. Government for years.

Pine tree in winter
Pine tree in winter


Ten Years

It was ten years ago this year.
I did nothing wrong; I harmed no-one

I was innocent of any crime

Yet they sent me to the government medical office
HealthQuest
And certified me insane.

The day the letter came
A sunny winter day
With snow melting under the pine trees in the shadows
Smoke from the chimney, ducks quacking somewhere

Do the trees remember us still?
The hills turn white and the grass fades…

Two children feeding bread to the cows
A new calf on the way
But we only had a week to admire him
Before we had to leave this place in the bush

Ten years of terrible flashbacks, fear and persecution.
Ten years of never being able to forget, not for a minute
Not even during the night

I opened the letter with hands shaking.
I thought, “Soon I can go back to work!
We can keep this stone cottage, these cows
The children will grow up here on this windswept hill….”

I read the words once, twice, fifty times.
“The worker is suffering from dementia
And can no longer carry out their duties of office.
This condition is not the fault of the worker.”

Dementia. The government medical officer said
I have dementia.
She would know, after all she is a person holding
A very high office. She wouldn’t lie – would she.

So now will I die? Will my memory disappear and
I won’t even know who I am?
My children will grow up without me…..
I am going to die.

I wondered if I should get my gun right now
Not to shoot the stealthy fox
But to put to an end this head that is diseased
With “cognitive dysfunction”.

A little girl runs up to me, a winter rose in her hand
And says “Mother, come and see
We made a little snowman
With the leftover snow from last night….”

A little boy comes dancing
Throws his arms around me and says
“Don’t be sad Mother, it’s only a silly old letter!”

With no job, and diagnosed with dementia
I cannot make the payments on our hundred acres
Ducks are still quacking somewhere….
Did I remember to give them lettuce?

I turn on the tap on the rainwater tank
And splash freezing water on my face

Try to make sense of this evil piece of paper.

Somehow I make it inside and sit in front of the
Stanley Waterford wood stove
That I brought from Ireland
I think how I’ll never afford another one.

My mother says “What’s wrong?”
I show her the letter. She cries.
Then she says, “But it’s all lies!”
How do I prove that? They are all powerful.

But I did nothing wrong.
How did this happen?
Surely this only happens in places like
Russia, China, not in Australia!

Now I must tell the children we are leaving.
We are leaving everything behind, the ducks,
The hens, the peacock, even our furniture….
How do I tell them that I am not allowed to work?

Ten years. Ten years of my life are gone.
Now we live in a town. The children grew
And went away, leaving me with ducks.
I worked again, but it was never the same.

I have been persecuted ever since.
The government has persecuted me, right here
In Australia, the land of the free – allegedly.
Only last year they did it again to punish me

For daring to defy them. For daring to call them
Corrupt and evil
Because that’s what they are.
For writing the truth
They certified me again. This time I had
Personality disorder.
We don’t like how you think
So you must be mad.

I get the lettuce out of the fridge
Tear it into little pieces and throw it
Into the duck pond
And remember that ducks are beautiful
They don’t send evil letters about madness.
But my hands are shaking.

I try to carry on, ten years later. Try to forget.
If they hadn’t done it again maybe I would be all right.
Or maybe not.
Soon it will be fifteen years, and twenty

I had to start counting again last year
Because they did it again.
So this is the first year and the tenth.
Why didn’t I just stay silent and be left alone by them?

I am not free. My mind is a tangle of barbed wire
And confusion
They have wrapped my brain in wire and pulled it tight
I don’t want my own mind any more, I want it to go away
Because they say it’s faulty.

The day I die, I will still be thinking of this
I will still be remembering the letter, the sunny day and the cows
Snow melting under the pine trees
And a letter saying I am mad.

Anonymous