Posts Tagged With: Bad Doctors

Roger Starner Jones, M.D. – Letter Writing 101

The Man I MUST Avoid In An Emergency Situation!!!

What If He Was Referring To Gold Toothed, Tattooed Immigrants?? Oh... But They Would Have Ricky Martin Ringtones Instead of R&B!! Nevermind!

I have read many blogs and comments about this letter trying to defend it as not being racist because he never says specifically the girl is black.  With his choice of descriptive stereotypes he wants the girl’s race to be known or he would have made better choices in describing the situation.   This is where I will offer my assistance to edit the letter he wrote to convey the same message without racially charged descriptions – while still conveying the heart of the message.

While working the night shift in the ER, I was evaluating a patient.  This patient caught my attention for having exceptional dental work, contemporary clothes & shoes, elaborate tattoos and a first-class cellphone.  Noticing these items, I felt they were extravagant for someone listing Medicaid as the payer status.  Following through on the patient’s evaluation, I also discovered this patient was a smoker and may also have an issue with alcohol, both costly vices.    My concern was not only the patient’s health, but the commentary of how this situation speaks to societal woes.

As the President and Congress address health care issues, using our tax dollars to finance them; I hope that education of lifestyle choices could be also addressed.  I understand many have not had the advantages in life I have had and feel education of how to make healthy lifestyle choices could help to begin addressing some of these cultural issues that concern me as a health professional.  Living in a state with high poverty and unemployment; making these educational and life skills training mandatory with accepting government assistance could begin to improve our nations health as well as societal conditions as a whole.

John Doe, MD
Anytown, USA

I feel that my version is not only racially unbiased but also is even gender nonspecific but most importantly offers a possible solution instead of just complaining.

Second – is Dr. Roger Starner Jones’ original letter with my interpretation injected as a narrative in red showing how I perceive what he really wanted say based on the attitude in his writing:

I Would Rather Take My Chances With This Guy!

Dear Sirs: (Anyone that will listen)

During my last night’s shift in the ER (I did not want to work last night), I had the pleasure of evaluating a patient (and I actually had to do some work with a patient while there.) with a shiny new gold tooth, multiple elaborate tattoos, a very expensive brand of tennis shoes and a new cellular telephone equipped with her favorite R&B tune for a ringtone (She was a stereotypical black girl.). Glancing over the chart (To confirm my prejudice,), one could not help noticing (I stuck my nose in her business to see her payer status.) her payer status: Medicaid (It was MY tax money giving her medical attention and no one else… just my tax dollars alone.). She smokes more than one costly pack of cigarettes (She has a perfectly legal bad habit that is really none of my business but I will comment on it anyway because it adds to my point because she does not smoke those generic less expensive cigarettes but smokes something high-end like Virginia Slims or Benson & Hedges) every day and, somehow, still has money to buy beer (and she still manages to use alcohol to escape the misery her life must be.). And our Congress expects me to pay for this woman’s health care? (As a medical professional, I am supposed to help someone like this?  I should care about someone like this?) Our nation’s health care crisis is not a shortage of quality hospitals, doctors or nurses. (Our nations heath care crisis has nothing to do with me and is all to be blamed on poor people like her.) It is a crisis of culture (In this culture I never have been a part of,)—a culture in which it is perfectly acceptable to spend money on vices while refusing to take care of one’s self (this 20 something attitude, I never got to experience because I had Daddy’s money and chose med school. I was studying and never got to have any cool life experiences.) or, heaven forbid, purchase health insurance (My Dad always paid my health insurance until I had a job that covered me and I never had to worry about health insurance so I cannot understand why poor people can’t just buy health insurance of their own.). It is a culture that thinks “I can do whatever I want to because someone else will always take care of me” (I am jealous for never getting to feel carefree because I am soooo responsible and no one has ever helped me.). Life is really not that hard. (Again, I have had an easy life and have no concept of a life of poverty so I feel free to condemn it.) Most of us reap what we sow (As I say this sh*t I hope there is no such thing as Karma). Don’t you agree? (Are there other narrow-minded jerks that can only think of themselves and validate my hostility about those less fortunate whom I can blame all of society’s problems?)

Jackson, MS                     (Aactually I live in Mississippi also)

I am attempting to be sarcastic, but he was not – that is what is so sad to me!

Doctor Roger Starner Jones is a seventh generation Mississippian and his extracurricular interests are golf, hunting, fishing and college football. He specializes in emergency medicine at  The University of Mississippi medical Center. (

He is a doctor that plays golf from Mississippi, that enjoys hunting and fishing!! lol  He is such a stereotypical cliché himself!!  lol  😀

Categories: Life | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

The Shell of Man

Most of the Fam Eating Out

“If you want to see your Dad alive, come home as fast as you can.”  is the call my sisters and I  received at the end of June.  We were all in South America. My sisters were in Brazil, and I was in Medellin, Colombia.  My sister’s were already scheduled t take the red-eye that night, but I went into high-gear changing my flights.  The trip home for me was hellish, not just for the reason I was traveling, but truly a horrible travel experience.  Dad was alive when we arrived, but all that was there was the shell of a man we once called Daddy (pronounced Deady).

For over two years Dad has battled with breathing because of Asbestosis from exposure to asbestos when he worked for the federal government.  This condition also made him susceptible to pneumonia.   For the last two years, he had been hospitalized several times because of pneumonia.  When I found out why Mom & Dad were not answering the phone, because he was in the hospital with pneumonia, my thoughts were “No big deal, I will be home in 6 days anyway.”  For Dad getting pneumonia was like anyone else getting a cold.  He would go into the hospital, have a round of antibiotics and go home in a few days.

With all three of her kids, her son-in-law, and one granddaughter out of the country along with the other granddaughter living out-of-town; Mom was alone with only Trace, my nephew, to deal with this situation.  My father has a living will and Mom had already had to invoke that to prevent him from being put on a ventilator.  Dad said his good byes to Mom and to Trace.  The last I talked with him before his condition changed so drastically, I told him I would be home in 1 week and he said, “I hope I am still here that long.”  That is the night things went downhill.  We were called to get home A.S.A.P.!

Traveling with MS (Multiple Sclerosis) is difficult enough….but this was my travel agenda home: Bogotá, Colombia to Medellin, Colombia; Medellin to Barranquilla, Colombia; Barranquilla to Fort Lauderdale, FL; Fort Lauderdale to Atlanta, GA; Atlanta airport was closed due to weather so we landed in Augusta, GA to refuel; then Augusta to Atlanta; FINALLY Atlanta to New Orleans, LA.  With little time to prepare, this was one of the most difficult traveling experiences I have had.  The airlines were a big assistance for me.  Once I arrived in New Orleans, I had to wait more than 2 hours for my ride to arrive.  Then the 1.5 hour car ride home.  I was only able to see Dad for a moment before I fell into a coma in my old bedroom at home.  For days I was physically paying a hefty price.  The actual financial cost of changing my flight was higher than the original purchase price and as noted involved more connections.

The doctors explained that he now had only 25% use of his lungs, but was stable.  They said he could live 2 weeks, 2 months or more than 2 years…. there was no way to tell.  But to complicate matters, he had developed dementia.  The night things turned, he wandered out of the hospital and was trying to get into their car (yes he had found the right car).  The doctors were amazed he had the strength and ability to do that.  When security brought him back, Mom asked, “Where were you going?”  He replied, “Tommy (my childhood nickname) is trying to get home, so I was just going to pick him up.”  His confusion continued and they began treating him with psychotropic drugs.  The doctors did not consult with one another and we left the hospital with him (moving him to a swing bed unit) on 3 different psychotropic drugs.  We were so exhausted, and trusting the doctors had not paid attention to this.  At the swing bed unit, another doctor added another psychotropic drug.

He was not sleeping at all at night and we were taking turns staying the night with him.  My MS limited how much good I was, but I did my best.  He wanted to go to Homecoming at church.  They allowed us to check him out. We came by the house and he fell asleep in his recliner.  We checked him out permanently from the swing bed unit.  The next day we took him to the hospital in Jackson where he stayed for 4 days while they ran test.  They determined the biggest problem was the four psychotropic drugs.  We left the hospital with no drugs except for one to help him sleep.  Which also helped us also get much need rest.

Now, we function day-to-day with Dad not even recognizing he is at home , knowing what day it is, asking where his bedroom is (this is the same house he grew up in), and sometimes not recognising who we are.  He mind is good for moments, but it is only briefly.  I have heard the horror stories, of parents becoming the children and now we are living it.  He is an elderly child.  Sweet and innocent at times mixed with aggravation and frustration because he does not understand what is going on.  Sadly, sometimes combative.  He sits in his recliner looking lifeless, the shell of the once strong, powerful, active man, I call Dad.

Categories: Life | Tags: , , , , , , | 4 Comments

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