Doc Awck

The problems I'd been having with Doctor Stone culminated today.
"What is it you want," he asked while searching through his front coat pocket for a sliver of paper.
"I want some recognition, some evaluation about my progress. I want to to go home instead of spending my nights with "sitters" and idle nurses. Ever since my brain injury, these nurses and this doctor has been unwilling to rethink the arrangement.

"How do you propose doing such a thing," he asked.

"I think I can come in during the week, and the days I can spend my time writing and doing the things that I love doing."

"I can't do that," Doc Awck said. "It's not our policy."

"Well, I want out then," I said. I don't want to be a part of this anymore. I have a life I want to live."

I told the doctor I no longer wanted his services. The bureaucracy created by health care, from frontal head injuries is massive, swelling, and mind numbing. This is no longer a system set up for the patients. It's no longer a system I feel a willingness to fight for. After a brief discussion, Doc Awk, left the room, agreed to sign off as my doctor. I agreed to a departure date of October 20.

Coming up, a departure date of learning to live with a brain injury, luckily without the help of Doc Stone.