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Once again, this is a catch all blog page, as was the last page.  Something deleted the last, very pertinent page TWICE.  I had the worst luck with that once.  I saved some of it, but not all of it.  I was too upset when I was writing it out.  Anyway, I was writing about Susan Rvachew, trying to come up with an explanation of what made her tick.  Such a strange woman.  We had a lot in common with regards to background and personality, which made me trust her, at first.  Really, the only thing that really struck me as a major difference was our taste in politics.  Throughout my life, I have voted consistently Reform/Tory.  I am a good Western Canadian.  If I hadn’t voted Reform, I would have voted NDP or Green.  Never Liberal.  Liberal is the party of the Ontario’s wealthy.  They’ve spent the last century trying to rob Western Canada blind, while slandering Western Canadians as bigots, and using these smears to play Western Canada and Quebec off each other.  Upper class Anglo Ontario spent hundreds of years abusing the Quebec French, then did a complete about face, and blamed all their sins on Western Canada’s farmers, loggers, and fishermen. Some members of my Western French Canadian family vote Reform/Tory, while some voted NDP (before the NDP all turned into Gucci Marxists).  However, no-one ever voted Liberal.  Never Liberal.  Voting Liberal gives you snob cachet, and makes life much easier in an academic setting, but I could never vote Liberal.  I think I was the only person on the Island of Montreal who voted Tory in the last Federal election.   I have never tried to hide my politics.  I don’t want to live in a country where I need to hide my politics.  Susan Rvachew was a die-hard left-winger – she told me so herself – but really, if an intelligent, educated woman wants to vote against her own best interests, that’s not really my problem.  Of course, as it turned out, we had completely different ways of viewing people.  I think her world view was linked to her politics, which is why I brought it up.  She thought she had the right to manipulate people to her advantage, and wrap it in the guise of “trying to help people.” I don’t know.  It’s an infinitely complex subject.

 

This was the problem I encountered at Schulich medical school.  Since my thoughts have led me to Schulich, I’ll write about that for a while, and rewrite the information on Susan’s questionable lab practices later.  I mentioned in part of the post that got deleted that Susan constantly played Pi-Yu and me off one another – that she was merciless in that respect, and that I thought that part of the point of all this was too keep me quiet and in my place.  I also said that I didn’t know why she was using Pi-Yu in this manner.  Pi-Yu seemed largely inoffensive.

I don’t know whether I mentioned that the doctors at Schulich also played the students off one another, to much the same end.  I wrote about my Clinical class with The Lizard/Nadeem Hussain, a long time ago, in my other blog on DeviantArt, under the name FridgeLogic.  I said that Nadeem Hussain had made a fool of himself, even though I was the only one who recognized that fact, and that he had publically punished and humiliated me for outsmarting him.  There was a student in the class, whom I didn’t like, and whose name was Sophia Nastis. (I’m including her real name.  Why not?  I included the names of all the Speech Pathologists I didn’t like, and there wasn’t much of a difference in age back when between the Speech Pathology students, such as Pi-Yu, and Sophia Nastis when I had my run in with her. I think I’ve subconsciously bought into the idea that medical students are special little butterflies.  I can see why Susan Rvachew spent so much time bitching about doctors.)  In any case, Sophia Nastis was an evil little shit, and probably still is.  (Again, doctors are not more special than speech pathologists.)  

In any case, Nadeem Hussain viewed an instance where I made it clear that I didn’t like her.  After my dust-up with him, in which accused me of unprofessionalism for interrupting him, I went to see Michael Rieder.  (I called him the Gladhander in my FridgeLogic blog.)  I wanted to make sure that there was no carry-forward, that there would be no problems with my next teacher in the clinical programme.  I had an ego-boosting talk with Rieder (for both of us! It is what doctors need to do even the very little that they do), but he was not able to offer me any substantive help.  He wrote an email to me, which he said that, officially, there should be no reason to worry about carry forward, and that the classes were independent of one another.  However, there was nothing to stop the teachers from talking to each other unofficially.   I considered writing a letter of complaint to the Head of the Programme, or some such person, but I dropped the idea.  I considered reviewing Nadeem Hussain’s class through the evaluation software provided to the students, but I could never find his name listed, even though all my other professors seemed to be there.  (Incidentally, this is why I bypassed Michael Rieder entirely when I quit Schulich in December of that year.  I wanted my comments on record, especially as they related to Dennis Humen, and the Pathology Resident who pimped the hell out of me in his class.  I’m sure my comments gave him a very bad two or three days.  Can’t remember his name, though. I called him a sociopath.  That I do remember. Good times, good times.  I laughed all through Christmas vacation.  I also submitted my evaluation comments for the Path Resident on an (anonymous) written form. I was definitely covering my bases.  Although, I suspect that my evaluation of the Pathology Resident may have been disallowed on the grounds that I quit school that semester.  I wish to God I could remember that guy’s name.  I would definitely post it.)

(“Pimp” is a word I learned on Student Doctor Net, which I strongly recommend as necessary reading for anyone interested in learning about how a doctor thinks.  It’s a specific type of bullying. Apparently, it is common in medical schools.  The instructor singles out one student and asks him or her question after question.  Hard questions, that the student cannot possibly know the answer to yet.  Maybe “hard” is the wrong word.  It’s really just information that the student hasn’t been exposed to yet.  Normal people, when viewing this kind of bullying would consider the questioner an idiot.  How could the student possibly produce an answer that he or she has not been taught yet?  I suppose it comes along with the doctor’s mentality that they have been gifted by God with special intelligence, and that only the select few can master medical knowledge.  I always wonder, if doctors are so interested in educating the public, why do they not put medical school lectures free online for anyone to use?  The government is paying for all this stuff anyway, in Canada.  Of course, it would be largely redundant.  Wikipedia is already free.  In any case, I did not know the answers to the Pathology Resident’s 8-9 questions, because I’m not that interested in dead people, (and because the questions were far beyond anything we had covered yet), and I told the Pathology Resident that I did not know the answers to his questions. Again and again.  Actually, that wasn’t quite true.  The first question he asked me I did know the answer to – it was a softball – but I said I didn’t know.  I was exhausted.  I had just come off a course of being bullied by Nadeem Hussain, and another course of being bullied into the ground by that fool Dennis Humen, who really should not be practicing.  I was starting to get the feeling that, whatever answer I gave at Schulich, it was going to be the wrong one, even if it was the right one.  Just like McGill Communication Sciences and Disorders under Shari.

I’m back at Dennis Humen.  I was in his class with Sophia Nastis and two of the most boring male medical students I’ve ever met.  Dennis Humen started dressing me down, giving me shit about being fat.  I was fat, of course, because of the medication.  He kept on saying, “I’m a plain-spoken guy, who says what he thinks." I thought his words had been chosen with malice aforethought.  I definitely had the impression that some people at Schulich found me a little too plain-spoken.  For one thing, Michael Rieder brought this point up when I went to see him about Nadeem Hussain.  I thought it was interesting that this was the place that Dennis Humen chose to pick at, my being fat, that is.  (Dennis Humen also complained that I wasn’t looking after myself properly.) A few weeks earlier, we had had to write and submit an essay about our medical school experience thus far.  I talked about how I didn’t like medical school, and that I’d rather be taking ballet classes.  I also put in a mildly embarrassing anecdote, about getting some ribbing about being fat at one of my medical school interviews.  I put it in as a probe.  I wanted to see how the authorities at Schulich would react.  I set them up, but I set myself up, too.  I had seen Susan Rvachew try it out on me, and I had been under Psychiatric care long enough to have some idea of how the game was played.  Like I said, Susan Rvachew was much smarter than just about any doctor.  So am I. After dealing with Susan Rvachew, watching the guys at Schulich trying to manipulate their students was like watching monkeys throw their faeces around.  So I put the mildly embarrassing anecdote in.  I also warned them in my essay that the essay was a trap. They walked into it anyway.  I’ll post the essay.  Dennis Humen (verbally) slapped me around with the effortless ease of a man who has trained his women to the point that he only needs to beat his wife up once a week.  However, he was not much good at teaching the course material.  It was Intro to Clinical Skills, or something like it.  We were learning the preliminary exam, the one that every doctor has supposed to have done a million times.  Humen was definitely out of it.  He didn’t prepare for classes.  (He was great at the bullying, though.)  His student came and subbed for him a couple times.  S/he was just great.  S/he had a nice line about the people at Schulich.  S/he said that the people at Toronto had their own way of doing things, and thought that the sun shone out of their ass, and the people at Schulich had their own way of doing things, and they thought that the sun shone out of their ass, but the truth was the sun didn’t shine out of anyone’s ass.  S/he knew how to run the exam.  Humen didn’t.  I spent the entire course being slapped around by him, and was thoroughly cowed by him by the end…. Sort of.   I had figured out I was in another no win situation.  Hussain and Humen taught me that talking got me in trouble.  A little later, the Pathology Resident taught me that staying silent got me in trouble.  My main thought, though, was that these people were a bunch of fucking idiots.  Humen had been trying to train me, like I was a bad dog, or something.  This is such a messy paragraph. But it is an interesting paragraph.  Humen was slapping me down.  Of course, after that, they needed to prop me back up again.  I think my grand rehabilitation was supposed to happen in the Spring semester.  I was scheduled to take a PBL class (or what passed for it at Schulich) with Sophia Nastis, yet again.  I was supposed to take it with a bunch of Asian students.  The Asian students at Schulich were a lot more likeable that the white students at Schulich, with a few exceptions.  I had taken part of a Mandarin class at Schulich with an Asian girl, second year medical student, quite nice.  I was absolutely sick of Sophia Nastis at by that point – she was treating me like a drooling idiot – and I would have quit medical school just to get away from that woman.  I had done well in the Fall PBL class, with Mary Eisenhauer, and I think they knew I would be comfortable in that environment, and that the Asian students would be less likely to be impressed by Sophia Nastis’s garbage.  I was to turn into a clone of Mary Eisenhauer, saddened by the weaknesses of humanity, but filled with clear-eyed resolution and determination, hoping for the best, and filled with the bemused wonderment that comes with the special privilege of being a doctor.  Mary was funny.  I’m going to write her up.  I thought these people were as obvious as hell, and I was bored out of my mind.  In any case, by the end of Humen’s class, I had been slapped down thoroughly.  I decided to go along with the game for the moment.  Humen’s class came with a series of youtube videos demonstrating how to do the assessments we were learning.  I watched them all carefully.  I was trying to learn the material.  I borrowed equipment – a blood pressure apparatus, maybe – to practice in the evening.  I kept it overnight, and gave it back the next day.  I had watched the videos.  Humen had not.  In the last class, after over a month of abuse from Humen, I

Doctors are not special.  What about Pi-Yu and Diane Pesco and Andreanne Gagne? ---------? She was fine, but she will be hurt by this.  They are REAL PEOPLE.  Doctors are not real people.  They certainly don't treat other people like real people. You get what you give.

Yeah, just as I thought, Susan Rvachew didn’t do anything that the guys at Schulich didn't do, and she did it better, but the guys at Schulich get off scott free.  Susan Rvachew learned this manipulative behavior from watching doctors.  So did I!!!

Denis Humen also complained a lot about one of the patient actors who had volunteered to be prodded at by medical students.  I don’t know if the patient actors were paid at all.  He said that one of the female patient actors was too fat, and he had trouble showing the students where the liver was.  I think it was the liver. He was upset, because he thought he had been made to look a fool in front of his students.  He brought this anecdote up once or twice.  “You’ve got to throw me a bone!” he kept on saying.  After several weeks I was thoroughly fed up with being humiliated by this guy, and I thought it was about damn time someone threw ME a bone.  So I asked him about one of the Neurology tests -  the one where the patient holds an object in one hand with eyes closed and names the object.  Then, the patient does the same thing with the other hand.  I think in the video that patient started with the right hand, then switched to the left.  Of course, I know the test well. I don’t know what doctors call it, but I know how it works.  When the patient holds the object in the right hand, the information travels by contralaterality to the language centers in the left hemisphere.  More than 98% of the population, male and female, have language represented in the left hemisphere.  I know this because of the experiments conducted by Brenda Milner, using the Wada test.  When the patient switches to the left hand, the linguistic information must travel over the corpus callosum in at least 98% of people to reach the language centres in the left hemisphere.  Switching to the left hand will tell you how well the hemispheres are communicating and sharing linguistic information.  I don’t know if that’s why doctors do it, but that’s how it works.  Besides, in the videos we were supposed to watch, the ones with Shannon Venance in them, that’s how she did it, with both hands.

I wanted a chance to show off, because I was completely tired of being made to look like an idiot just to bolster some fool’s “confidence”.  But that’s how the Canadian medical system runs!  Humen didn’t oblige. He told me that the assessment only needed one hand, the right one.  When I pressed him, he looked me straight in the eye, and started making up some bullshit about women have different linguistic lateralization than men, and on and on, which was neither true – having studied under Paradis, I could have quoted chapter and verse – and in addition, completely irrelevant.  I wanted to slap that moron into next Sunday.  Why the fuck had I gone to graduate school, anyway?  I kept on telling people at Schulich that I had a PhD in Speech Pathology, and I think they thought I was bragging because I was tone-deaf.  The reason I made sure people knew my credentials, though, was because I wanted to avoid precisely that situation.  I had not spent all those years in misery just to play bimbo so some fucking idiot could look smart.  It was definitely a step down from Shari Baum and Susan Rvachew.  Both those women would have memorized the videos, and they would have walked into that classroom completely prepared.

But I didn’t slap Humen into next Sunday.  I nodded vaguely, smiled, and went into my little happy place.  Arguing with Nadeem Hussain had gotten me absolutely nowhere, which was the point that Denis Humen had put so much effort into trying to train into me.  I had been efficiently silenced.  They didn’t know the science, but they were good at humiliating people and shutting them up.  The thing is, I know a lot of my area of expertise well, and I knew they were teaching much of it badly.  Some of what they were teaching was old, and some of it was inaccurate.  And yet, my area was only a small part of what they had to teach.  How were the teachers at Schulich doing in areas I knew nothing about?  Nadeem Hussain had been a disaster, and so had Dennis Humen.  Was there anyone in that school who could teach a clinical class well?  Even Elin Thordardottir had been much, much better than those two.

November 9, 2014: I swear that I am the writer of this blog, and of the DeviantArt blog under the name FridgeLogic, and that, to the best of my knowledge, the information in both blogs is true, saving some information relating to an employer in Japan. Jennifer Mortimer, Victoria, British Columbia, Canada.

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"And if you think I didn't have my share of suffering -- look here, when I went to give up that flat and saw that damn box of dog biscuits sitting there on the sideboard I sat down and cried like a baby. By God, it was awful ---"

I couldn't forgive him or like him but I saw that what he had done was, to him, entirely justified. It was all very careless and confused. They were careless people, Tom and Daisy --- they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness or whatever it was that kept them together, and let others clean up the mess they had made...

- The Great Gatsby
- F. Scott Fitzgerald

"A man is whatever room he is in."
- Japanese proverb (according to Mad Men).

"Mo ii janai. Arigatoo."
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a bit late 'thank you' for faving my cake :dance:
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thank you so much for faving :sun:
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:) (Smile)
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Pleasure :)
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Hello I used your Frame Stock here , thanks so much 
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thank you for fav of Reflecting fugue
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