I have started to read the hospital records (if you can call them that)... I am in no doubt at all that my lovely husband was killed by an operation he should never have had.
So where do I start. What am I hoping to do? All I know here and now is that when I think of the depth and level and length of his unnecessary suffering, and know what was done to him...just didn't happen...that those wonderful eyes which shone at me and smiled with love and that the mouth which for years called me "Spider" a term of endearment ...and "honky Tonk" which was just cheeky...will never do so again in this life fills me with a dreadful despair...how does one bear this?
How did he bear the constant assaults carried out upon him? No choice...but still those smiles he bestowed upon us, through it all were like diamonds of love. He deserves that at least I get some Justice for him... for our two girls, who know, who knew and still grieve so much...and for me.( last birthday with his new leather hat and scarf and jumper...he was born fourth of July and that is cold here in Australia)
His life was sacred and should have finished when his body wore out...as is intended...not by this grotesque parody played out in his GP's rooms, the Operating Theatre and the filthy wards...which all masks as medicine... "first do no harm"... but which cuts, mutilates, infects, drugs and kills and takes and expects to take no responsibility at all and bleats when confronted with the disgusting outcomes of mistakes, negligence and arrogance.
So I have started..even half a page a day...
I will get there and I will do my best to ensure they know that we know...(stupid pricks)...and all I can hope for really...is that when they die they go to some kind of hell for their actions...Can live in hope? I am really angry... along with my grief.
I was sure blessed I reckon.