IN THE BELLY OF THE BEAST




One man's odyssey through the bowels of the Medical Industry




Quiescent Benevolence















Copyright 2022 by Quiescent Benevolence














For Ashli and Derek






















For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.

I Timothy 6:10










There is no such thing as 'the health care industry'. Perhaps there once was, but no longer. Health care consists of caring for one's physical self in such a way as to maintain good health and avoid illness for as long as possible before age has its way. It has been observed there is no money to be made from dead people (other than the relative pittance for the funeral industry) and none to be had from healthy people. The profit is in between. The profit to be had is enormous, and there is no shortage of parasites to collect it. Like the floating body of a dead whale, surrounded by creatures large and small, gnawing at any accessible area with larger ones taking the chunks their maws enable them to consume, the smaller ones taking the scraps. The vulnerable population of any highly developed society provides a vast herd of hosts for the parasites of the Medical Industry. And they do not hesitate to create customers, whether by using advertising to create fear in the population to drive them to the doctors and pharmaceutical providers, or conspiring with the government to create medical 'emergencies'. But those matters would require a separate examination. In this case we look at the little parasites. Those who operate medical facilities and provide the supplies and services to operate them. Each of them, like a small fish nibbling at the deceased cetacean, takes as much as it can get from the feast. The smell of the rotting carcass troubles them not at all. And their hunger is never satisfied. They are little more than eating machines, blind and unreasoning, consuming as much as they can of whatever is available. Why? Because it is there and they are what they are. In the animal world such organisms are described as opportunistic feeders. But how do human beings become as them? To paraphrase Sir Isaac Newton 'I can calculate the movement of the stars, but not the evil of men.'


Quiescent Benevolence 1657069186






The title is probably best known as that of a book written by a convict and published to some acclaim, probably due more to the author's collaboration with the late unlamented (by me at least) Norman Mailer than any intrinsic value. In a more general sense, the phrase refers to being in an unpleasant and dangerous situation. I have certainly been there, and unlike the criminal author, I did nothing to deserve it. But I survived, despite the best efforts of the Medical Industry and some of its most corrupt minions. Which is what this story is about. It also revealed to me the reality of what a friend (RIP Frank) told me. "People are no damned good, Alex." He said a lot more, but there's no need to go into it here. There is certainly a temptation to think so at times, and I know too well why. Jack Henry Abbott was a criminal and worked hard to get to where he got to. Guess I'm just one of the unlucky people things happen to, but the beast doesn't care. Or maybe it does, and deliberately torments us a little more.

I have little experience as a writer, and have no intention of attempting to make this a scholarly work or impress with my intelligence and wit, even though I have a great deal of one and am reputed to have a good bit of the other. I wrote some technical manuals in my past life, and was considered to be quite good at it. The purpose of this writing is to document the appalling behavior of these predators of the Medical Industry, and to call out the two main perpetrators in this case - James Cox (CEO of Arkansas Continued Care Hospital) and Jeffery Copeland, technically a doctor but in fact one of the the lowest sort of avaricious cretins I have ever encountered.


Quiescent Benevolence
Thu 18 Aug 2022 01:10:40 PM CDT : 1660846240















The first sixty-something years of my life were, if not completely normal at least unremarkable. Part of a working-class family (OK, we were upper working-class, but my thrifty family sometimes caused me to think we were poor) my only major handicap, not discovered until I was an adult, was having Asperger's Syndrome. I have a few other mild ASD symptoms such as social awkwardness and obsessive-compulsive behavior, but eventually learned to suppress or conceal them most of the time.

My intelligence and ability to apply it saved me from the worst consequences. Beginning in junior high, the classes were segregated by ability, and I spent the last six years in a cherry-picked class of twenty students, all at or near my level intellectually. I was still a country bumpkin with a bunch of high-class kids (children of doctors, lawyers, bankers, etc.) so there was some resentment, especially when I was one of the honor students, the other being one of the aforementioned elites. So I got some grief from classmates and some of the teachers, because that is what happens in such situations.

Luckily there were a couple of other misfits, and I palled around with them and somehow got through it. A couple of years later I decided to enlist in the Air Force. I aced the ASVAB tests, and the recruiter told me I could choose any job I wanted. What I chose is somewhat irrelevant, because in basic training they had more tests, and for people like me there were even more. They were looking for special skills, and apparently I had a lot. Eventually one of the interviews intrigued me sufficiently that I volunteered to train for a linguist job. I was told in a general way that I would be sent to a school in Monterey, California for up to a year (depending on the language) and then be assigned to an intelligence-related operation. Listening to radio traffic in foreign languages like Russian. In places where you hear military radio traffic like that. Try to find interesting things to record for later analysis. Flying around in converted cargo or tanker aircraft usually, with other operators, usually a couple dozen or so. Anyway, for the remainder of my six years that is what I did.

I was more interested in computers by then (early 1980s) and when my enlistment was up returned to civilian life, intending to finish college. At that time though, the technology was moving faster than the colleges could stay up with. Unless I went to one of the big high-dollar ones out east or in California. So I went to work for a small software developer, and found my multiple talents in that area well rewarded.

Transitioning from mainframes and minicomputers and COBOL and RPG to micros with Unix and C (I was involved in creating one of the first, possibly the first, Unix-based banking software systems) and eventually ended up building the infrastructure for a very successful company. A mom and pop operation, but made them a few millions, and did pretty well myself.

Working in an office, especially 50-60 hour weeks, isn't good for you health no matter how hard you try. My last day of work I did what I had been doing for years. A hundred push-ups first thing, usually repeated later that day. Try to do the diet right. But still that blocked artery happened.

Sudden, no warning. Feeling bad, go down a a friend's office and tell her I think I need to see a doctor. By that time it was almost too late. No memory of that happening, or anything else for several months. With one exception, which I'll relate later.

They called an ambulance. We're in Paragould, Arkansas. Decent hospital. Well, a fairly large hospital. Big place, hundred something beds. Can't handle the big stuff though. Heart surgery. Which I apparently needed, so it was back in the ambulance and over to Jonesboro. Got a couple of big hospitals over there, serious big-city stuff. Heart stuff, cancer stuff, all that.

I didn't know it then, but I was about to learn the hard way just how thoroughly evil the beast I call the Medical Industry is.

The Arkansas Methodist Medical Center in Paragould is on Highway 412, a relatively decent four-lane road. It's only about a half mile to the intersection of Arkansas Highway 49, an even better road. Four lanes all the way to Jonesboro, even at busy times the 15 miles or so to the nearest (and best, if you have a serious problem like I did) hospital is a quick drive. In an ambulance with people getting out of the way, it should be quicker.

Uh-oh. We're not going there. That's NEA Baptist, big new modern hospital, part of the Memphis Baptist organization.

Maybe the Methodist hospital in Paragould didn't like the Baptist hospital in Jonesboro?

No, of course not. Those names don't mean anything these days anyway. Perhaps they should stay though, as Big Religion is pretty bad, and Big Medicine is an ideal bedfellow.

Anyway, we were going to St. Bernards, the other big hospital in Jonesboro. Not as big as NEA, or as modern. And it's downtown. If religion was important...

It's another five miles or so to St. Barnyards, as some call it. These days it seems to fit. You see, that additional five miles is narrow, congested streets. The right turn off Highway 49 and a short distance to the emergency entrance at NEA was out. Instead it was negotiating the crowded area and eventually getting into the ambulance unloading area.

Good thing I wasn't dying or something.

They didn't manage to kill me with delay, so they did the routine bypass surgery. Should have been it. Back at work in a few weeks. Only that didn't happen either. Couple of days later I for some reason stopped breathing. Heart stopped. Twelve minutes I was told. Still looking into that to see what happened.

At any rate things went south pretty fast from there. I neglected to mention earlier that the folks at Arkansas Methodist back in Paragould did some exploring before they ditched me, stuck a needle in me and poked one of my kidneys with it. Dye in the needle, known to cause kidney failure just by being in the body. Mainlined it.

So now they got a guy they're already assuming is a vegetable (someone told my next of kin that) and the presumed vegetable is having kidney failure.

What do they do? Hmmm, they're already billing Blue Cross over a quarter million for a couple days work. Expensive I'm sure, heart surgeons and all, but still...

As it happens, there was another hospital in town, just the right place for that sort of thing. And that's were the bowels of the beast become really putrid.

*       *       *      

Many years ago there was another hospital in Jonesboro. Smaller than St. Barnyards, but a decent facility. That was the Methodist Hospital of Jonesboro. It was fairly new, built in the early 2000s I guess. Its history is rather murky, having been sold a time or two, but it had been closed by 2010 or so.

Not that it matters. It was used by NEA Baptist while its new facility (the one that the ambulance passed on the way to St. Barnyards) was being built. It was closed afterwards, for about three or four years.

Then in 2018 it was again in operation, this time as Arkansas Continued Care Hospital of Jonesboro. Big fancy name, big fancy sign. I'll call it ACCH for convenience, since it's likely to come up occasionally. Not much else new, except for one or two things which I'll get to later. Same old building, having spent much of its life decaying, opened up as a "Long Term Acute Care Hospital". An LTACH as they're called. Quite the thing these days, in the field of human exploitation. One of those federal budget carve-outs about twenty years back created the business opportunity. And so...

Someone decided to turn the old place into a profit center. Clean it up, get set up to start stuffing in patients. Minimal care, people going in there are in bad shape to begin with, harvest the insurance and Medicare revenue as long as they last.

St. Barnyards just needed to get rid of a problem (me) and here was the perfect disposal facility. So after about thirty-one days or so, I left St. Barnyards for ACCH.

Now, I had been unconscious (drugged) the entire time. Remained that way as I began my sojourn at ACCH. They kept me drugged. Never let me wake up. Never tried to see what condition I was in. Now, they had a feeding tube in me. Obviously. I couldn't eat, and they needed me alive. At least for a while. Had to get the drugs in somehow.

You see, one of the requirements for LTACHs (to maintain their profitable status) is for the average patient stay to be at least 25 days.

So I was a bonanza, as long as I didn't die prematurely. Brain-dead, just keep the systems running for as long as you can, raking in the money. Try something like sixty thousand a week. That's what Blue Cross was being billed for my "care". And of course the 25 days is the average. They get someone's granny in there with pneumonia, she expires after just a few days, not good for the numbers. So people like me come in handy.

I might as well mention the doctor here. That would be one Jeffery Blake Copeland, MD. More on him later, for now note the spelling. I never saw him the entire time I was there. Did you catch that last bit? I never saw him. A hundred twenty four days. Now I was drugged unconscious most of that time, but once my family members convinced him to reduce the drugs enough for me to wake up, I remained fully cognizant for the remaining three to four weeks. Each day I asked to see the doctor. Each day I asked, early in the morning, please be sure the doctor sees me when he makes his rounds.

Silly me. Doctor making his rounds? That's what they do in actual hospitals. I never saw this clown. Haven't seen him to this day. Seen pictures, fat guy. What I do know is that he is a low-life scum-sucking piece of human debris, and that's an insult to debris, human and otherwise. How do I know that? The way you know what any person is, by their behavior. So no doctor. Just tied to the bed. Hand and foot. Tight, with wire that looked like an old clothesline my mother used when I was a kid.

That's what I said. Tied to the bed. With wire. Because I (allegedly) pulled out my feeding tube, and they didn't want me to do it again. How do I even know I did it? I was unconscious, effectively in a coma. Maybe that big psycho orderly did it, and blamed me. That would be about right. The staff there was the dregs of humanity. Anyway they tied me up, left me with my arm twisted in an unnatural position, so bad I was making noises even unconscious. My visitor asked them to adjust it, she got mad and argued that there was no need, but finally did it. One time they left me totally naked, tied down like that, no covers over me or under me.

Did I mention that James Cox, CEO of Arkansas Continued Care Hospital of Jonesboro Arkansas is a most despicable piece of human debris? And that Jeffery Blake Copeland is at least as bad, I haven't decided yet if he's worse.

So finally, my two family members who visited me at every opportunity (the Covid hoax was beginning to bloom and they used that excuse to limit visitors to one at a time) driving 45 miles each way to watch me sleep. They had been told that I was unlikely to recover but continued to insist that they make some attempt to assess my condition. It took some implied threats, but eventually he reduced the drugs. I woke up, and began to converse with them and the staff, wanting to know why I was there and when I could leave.

I suppose they still didn't want me leaving, especially after what they had done to me, but the problem of the insurance payments loomed. My employer was finally about to terminate my employment. The HR manager had been using my unused vacation time to keep me on the payroll as working sufficient hours to keep the insurance in effect. That was about to end.

My family attempted to have me accepted by a rehabilitation facility, and was in the process of doing so, when they hospital finally allowed them to take me home instead. It took several days of therapy for me to be able to use a walker to exit, but we managed it.

I am alive, and certainly would not be had I not been extricated from that hellhole. They used me for over a hundred days to extract money, hundreds of thousands of dollars - probably approaching a million - from the insurance company. I many comment further on my own situation, but for now let me comment on some other matters.

 


ACCH is, in my opinion, a criminal enterprise. Essentially, the investors (whom I have not yet been able to identify) took an old hospital facility, unused for years, and patched it up enough to start processing patients. They harvest victims from a wide area, mostly Arkansas, Missouri, and Mississippi, but with some coming from as far away as Kentucky and Tennessee. That's a rich hunting ground, with numerous hospitals needing to unload patients.

Such a facility is indeed justified, for the actual need. There are people who need that type of care. But ACCH is run by greedy, amoral people who only want money, as much money as they can get any way they can get it. And aside from fraud (obviously the larger part) they reduce costs in every possible way. The personnel were almost without exception indifferent at best and abusive at worst. There seemed to be two or three decent sorts, but they were the few exceptions.

The place was dirty, the food barely edible. The only beverages available were normally milk (to which I am allergic) and apple juice which makes me sick. Twice I vomited after drinking it, and was left in a soiled gown for hours, almost certainly intentionally. Actually those were probably the only times it was changed.

One orderly (at least he didn't seem to be a nurse) was very large and mentally unstable. When he desired to change my position in the bed he simple picked me up and dropped me where he wanted me. I could hear him talking outside the room (they did that a lot, probably not caring if I heard) and seemed to be seriously on the nutty side.

Did I mention that I was tied to the bed the whole time? Tied with wires around wrists and ankles to the bed rails. They said I pulled out my feeding tube, so they tied me up. Never mind that I was drugged senseless and was incapable of having done it deliberately. So they tied me up. They continued after I was awake, even when I begged them not to tie me again after I had been briefly freed for a meal or administration of drugs.

Speaking of drugs, let me address that. Dr. Copeland was keeping me drugged, to maintain the deception. Now it should have been easy, given that he was in complete control, to simply administer an anesthetic drug. Only the staff would know, and I doubt there would have been any objection. They were all likely not employable elsewhere, and would have done whatever they were told.

Instead he administered a dangerous mix of powerful psychoactive drugs - for schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, at least a half-dozen antipsychotics, and a variety of others. At any time I would have had a minimum of a dozen different drugs in me. My waking hours (still drugged, only in lesser amounts) were a mixture of reality and hallucinations. Often I would be sleeping and dreaming, and would wake up and continue to experience the dream simultaneously for a time, overlaid on the environment of the hospital room. Such was the action of the drugs.

The use of the drugs has caused me to wonder if the doctor actually thought there was something wrong with me and it could be fixed. I doubt it, and suspect he was simply using whatever drugs would control me. I can believe the incompetence, but the evidence suggests otherwise. I believe he was simply playing his part in the plan.

There are plenty of other horror stories, but time and space is limited. I'd like to keep this short.

*       *       *      

What was my mental condition at the time? What I'm asking you is, what was the mental condition of this supposed vegetable discarded by St. Barnyards on the garbage heap of Arkansas Continued Care Hospital? Well, at the time of the feeding tube incident, I was transported back to St. Barnyards. The drugs wore off enough for me to become fully awake and aware of my environment. I knew that I was in an ambulance, lying on the gurney, aware of the movement of the vehicle. I looked up at the bulkhead, and noticed several license plates. They were from neighboring states (Tennessee, Missouri, and one or two others, probably one was Mississippi) and remember wondering if they were required because the ambulance operated in those states, or were souvenirs. I was aware of every moment, the ambulance arriving at the hospital, being backed into the bay, being removed and rolled into the hospital, through the hallways. My memory ends there, as I was sedated again and remained unconscious until I was allowed to awaken several weeks later. My mind was completely clear for that half hour or so.

So I wasn't a vegetable at all. Until they got another needle in me and that was it for a few more weeks.

My family members became increasingly suspicious, and demanded that I be properly evaluated and treated properly. Copeland resisted but eventually gave in. Even after only a reduction of the drugs, not a complete cessation, I became sufficiently awake and as lucid as could be managed under their influence. Normal conversations, understood when they told me what happened (the heart attack and surgery, not the imprisonment-for-profit part) and told them I felt good and wanted to go home as soon as possible.

Got it? No hysterics, no violence, no crazy talk, nothing.

They kept me tied up. With the wire, remember. Quick note here: restraint devices of various sorts exist for the purpose of preventing patients from being injured (falling out bed, moving injured limbs, etc.) and outside of mental institutions where they are prescribed by competent physicians can not be legally used to restrain a patient for the convenience of the staff. These scumbags broke the law and violated my civil rights every time they did it. Of course, imprisoning and assaulting me (with drugs that damaged my brain and nervous system) was rather illegal as well, so....

Eventually my family was able to get them to let me go. Once they began preparing for my departure, I was seen by a physical therapist for the first time. Well, that's what he was supposed to be. Had a big guy (no, not the psycho, another big guy) with the strap around him to hold me up when I fell. Which happened a lot. It was three or four days before I could stand for a few seconds without touching either of them. Eventually I could use a walker to traverse the hallway outside my room. As we passed the rooms, doors open, I saw in almost all of them an old person, lying on their back, if their eyes were open they were seeing the ceiling, but I doubt many were. Eventually I would have been one of them, had not my family gotten me out. And at some point I would have expired, like so many had before. I probably won't go into the death list here, but it is disturbing.

Upon my discharge the feeding tube, not used for days, was left in place. Mostly for spite I'm sure, but in fact they did not have anyone qualified to remove it. This is supposedly a hospital. In case you forgot. It would be another six weeks and three doctor visits before it was removed, in part because of an infection at the site.

The effects, both physical and mental, seem to be permanent. My inability to stand without support, memory loss, and avolition, or more likely abulia as it is a result of the chemical damage. I have effectively been chemically lobotomized. I am unable to store new memories to any great extent (I have been described as having a photographic memory, although that is a bit of an exaggeration) and have lost much memory of my previous life. I cannot write or even print legibly, have difficulty conducting a conversation of any complexity or length, and must use calendar notes and checklists to conduct the simple business of paying bills, taking out the trash, or other trivial tasks. I live alone but my family members call daily and visit regularly, probably a permanent situation.

That is what Dr. Copeland did to me. I hope one day to meet him (did I mention I have never seen him, my attending physician for over a hundred days? Of course I did.), and Cox as well. In a courtroom, in the witness seat. I would really like to see them in handcuffs, on their way to pay for their crimes, but that may have to wait for the next world.

Besides the foregoing, I was incapacitated for about three months longer than would have been necessary if not for the actions of ACCH. I should have been able to leave by the end of February at the latest, instead it was near the end of May when I was finally released. As a result, I became unemployed, and most of my bills had gone unpaid for three months, long enough to degrade my credit rating. I was fortunate not to have all of my credit card accounts closed, as several were. I was deprived of the last three to five productive years of my life, a loss of more than a quarter million dollars in income, and I incurred many more thousands of dollars in expenses related to my experience. And being forced to retire several years before my age for maximum Social Security benefits has cost me much more. And I am now physically disabled as well, unable to work at anything.

And James Cox, that pathetic excuse for a human being, is enjoying his million-plus salary, playing golf with his peers, doing the Kiwanis or Chamber of Commerce meetings, probably making speech about his contributions to the community. The big business types, the doctors, lawyers, bankers. Which is why the lawyers I contacted with this told me "we don't sue Jonesboro hospitals". That could make socializing awkward. I understand. Probably because many, perhaps most, of them are just as bad as he is. Lower than tubifex worms, and since Cox had a theology degree (the irony) and not a biology degree, he probably wouldn't understand.

A (somewhat) famous person said, shortly before his death, "Everybody has got to die, but I have always believed an exception would be made in my case." There was no exception for him, and there will not be for these travesties of humanity. Perhaps they should consider what comes afterwards, but if they do think about the end of their lives, their nihilistic attitude makes it irrelevant to them.
 


I have since shared this information with a large number of news media organizations. The response has been almost non-existent. Two or three newspaper reporters at small papers inquired, and that was it.

I informed the major outlets in this area, notably the Jonesboro television station (KAIT) and the Jonesboro Sun. There was no response. KAIT ran several canned stories in the past several years (the facility opened in 2018) regurgitating the press releases they were given. Ironically, one was about a movie being filmed there, about black market organ trafficking. How close to reality it was they couldn't know, and didn't care. There was one about the hospital doubling its capacity to deal with the increased volume caused by the Covid hoax. Did they ever to to the hospital and see where the new three-story wing was being constructed? That's what it would have taken. No, like all "news" media, the people at this little backwater TV station just dispense whatever trash they are given. Always hoping to one day get "the call", and a slot on one of the big national propaganda operations like CNN.

The Jonesboro Sun was also notified several times, once with an in-person visit to a reporter. Results? The same. Luckily newspapers won't be around much longer, and probably television will follow them soon enough. Meanwhile, like the little scavengers of the Medical Industry, the "news" people just continue milking their dying host, the older ones hoping to make it to retirement, the younger ones just assuming something will come along when this is over. The world will be a better place without them.

I contacted a number of newspapers and television stations in the larger cities (e.g. St. Louis, Memphis) as ACCH acquires its victims from the four state area of Arkansas, Missouri, Tennessee, and Mississippi. No response.

I do wonder though, if we manage to break this (and believe me, it will happen) how they will cover it. Or if they will. Not that I care.

As for lawyers, as I said before. The local ones won't sue Jonesboro hospitals. And no lawyer anywhere else wants it. Why? It would require actual work. They want money but don't want to work for it. Some of the big ambulance-chasers said "it's not that you don't have a case, but it's not one we can take". The big ones, like "For the People" Morgan and Morgan, with their incessant barrage of radio and television ads, billboards everywhere you look, don't want a case like this. They don't even want to go to court, they want cases they can get a quick settlement offer for. A drunk banker or doctor or whatever rear-ends a nice family and leaves the teenage cheerleader daughter a quadriplegic and the quarterback boyfriend dead for extra points (pardon the expression) and the drunk's insurance company pays off. Neat little packages like that. None of this messy justice stuff. Too much work, and the payoff is iffy.

So where does that leave us? Well, a lot of worms get stepped on and few notice, and fewer care. Certainly none are willing to risk anything, even disapproval or criticism from people they barely know. Those whose elderly relatives perished there (yes, there are a lot of deaths there, for such a small operation, and the median age is disturbing to say the least) usually don't have the means to pay a lawyer, so what can they do? Meanwhile, the criminals there (and make no mistake, criminal profit is at the root - insurance fraud in my case and Medicare in the case of the elderly victims) are continuing to harm and even kill people.

 
 


Do you doubt my assessment of James Cox? Well, let's take a look at his career. He got started at a company in Jonesboro called Ascent Children's Health Services (ACHS). Ever heard of it? I remember it well. I didn't pay much attention to it, the usual Medicaid-harvesting operation. "For the children". Just one more of the innumerable leeches on the body of the taxpaying population. Nothing to be done, society is full of parasites large and small, and if one is removed two more take its place.

Well, over a number of years he worked his way up the food chain. Nine years, quite an investment of time these days. Most people want faster results, but not everyone gets them. Perhaps above his intelligence and cunning, but he got there. Chief Operating Officer. You'll see just how dirty this world is in a bit. First let's see what happened.

As I said, ACHS was a cash cow for its investors, just like ACCH. They were a part owner in a transportation company that provided the vans and buses to transport the children, nice setup. They hired low-buck help to do drive them and supposedly care for the children. Hire cheap help, get cheap results. A few incidents, losing track of children for a few hours at times but always finding them, until one day in 2017 or thereabouts, while ACHS CEO Dan Sullivan, a state legislator was arguing for relaxed regulation on child care providers, some of his low-budget employees left a five-year-old child strapped in a seat in a closed van on a very hot day for eight hours. With the predictable results.

Cox skated, while the employees were prosecuted. But he was soon out of a job, as it was the last straw for a business that had exploited the system for too long, and incompetently at that. ACHS closed soon after.

He worked at a mental health clinic for a couple of years, and then got lucky. ACCH had opened in 2018, and had been through a CEO or two. Community Hospital Corporation (CHC) of Plano, Texas manages ACCH. They installed Cox as a new CEO. About the time I fell into its clutches. He had gone from milking Medicaid to mining Medicare, and in cases like mine insurance. Much more profitable. But that's enough. I have work to do. Perhaps I won't live long enough to see justice done. He and Copeland have no doubt taken years off my life.

But you never know. Maybe something will be done, or perhaps more people will suffer and die. I'm one of the lucky ones. I believe I was spared for a reason. Perhaps this is it. My remaining time here is short, even less than it would have been had I not fallen into the hands of the Medical Industry. I could suggest that you pray you don't, but you know something? You will, sooner or later. Whether through illness, accident, or age you will be at the mercy of those creatures whose sole interest in you is the money to be squeezed from your last days.

 


No doubt an enterprising and courageous young journalist could earn a ticket to the big time with this. One day get "the call". But courage would certainly be required, as it could be dangerous to actually begin peering into those dark corners. Much money is at stake, for people who have already shown themselves to be conscienceless. And it would be hard work. And what journalist, if anyone is worthy of the title, has the courage. Or integrity. People choose careers to provide what they hope will be a good living. Going outside the lines is not a good way to achieve of maintain one. There probably were people, in the past, who chose a profession for other reasons. Whether medicine, law, or journalism, there were opportunities to do good, to help people. Now it's all about money, career advancement, social standing. James Cox climbed the ladder, got near the top. And an innocent young child paid the price. He went on to bigger and better things, and others paid the price. I'm one of them, but at least I am alive. I know about some of the ones who died in that hellhole, some younger than me. I suspect he does not envision the end of his existence, because like one of the lower animals feeding on another, he lives only in the present.

No, I suspect that a person with the courage and decency to pursue this, probably with some help from others in certain positions, could indeed accomplish great things. Not only in recognition for the achievement itself, but for the good done for others.

Billion dollar Medicare cases are regularly prosecuted, and those of many millions are common. I would not be surprised if Cox and company netted a million on me, and I am only one of many. And Community Hospital Corporation operates many such hospitals. Billions of dollars transferred from the earnings of honest working people to the worst criminal scum, who prey on the weak. They are the vultures and hyenas of the predator world, without the initiative and creativity to enrich themselves honestly, but wanting what they others have. A criminal who takes by force is more honest.

And me? I'm just an ordinary person. Worked hard all my life for everything I have, and quite a lot that I didn't get. Served my country in the armed forces for a few years, in peacetime but doing hazardous duty most of it, helped several small companies get big, never asked for more than what they agreed to pay me. Not asking for anything now. Nor for myself anyway. And there's probably on point in telling you what I would like to see. But I will.

Remember I told you what I saw when I walked down the hall in that hellhole, looking over at the rooms as I passed, the doors open as they are. Those old people lying there alone, whether asleep or awake or drugged, who knows. No one cared about them, the staff certainly didn't. I know for a fact that some of them were treated the same way I was, tied to the bed, drugged to keep them quiet, for the money. Money for people like James Cox and Jeffery Copeland, and the investors.

But enough of that. There's plenty more, and one way or another it will come out eventually. But not, it seems, because anyone in the Jonesboro 'business community' cares. All about the money, and your position in society, or the one you want. Whether you're a doctor or other 'health care' worker, or a 'journalist'. When I moved to Jonesboro, over forty years ago (after having lived in the area most of my life) I thought it was one of the best places to live, and I've traveled a good bit. But I've seen it deteriorate in so many ways, that like the rest of our society it seems there is little worth saving.