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Bullying.This is an extremely common problem in medical field. Juniors often get bullied by their seniors. I don't just mean interns and residents. Even junior consultants get bullied by senior consultants.It can be something as innocuous as putting down the junior in front of others or in front of patients, refusing their eligible leaves, denying them opportunities to develop their skills to open verbal and physical abuse.The worst of them was one of the earliest I came across and done by one of the most respected surgeon in my own field.I was posted as an intern in psychiatry department. The residents there were asking about my interests. I said orthopedics. And the consultant started telling me about the story of a post graduate who ran away from the ortho department (not resigned, he just left one day and never returned).Apparently this guy was from a poor family. His dad was a native bone setter. He wanted his son to be professionally trained in that field and hence the boy badly wanted orthopedics and got it too.Now a little background info about the dynamics between native bone setters and Orthopedicians.Native bone setters with the exception of very few do a shoddy job in managing Orthopedic injuries. But most of them don't ever face repercussions for what they do. And they charge a lot too. Finally after all the complications are created by such quacks, patients turn to professionals and when they are told about the costs of the treatment their reaction ranges from surprise to outright indignation. Such issues of professional competition have resulted in a huge friction between the Orthopedicians and native bone setters.Back to the main story. The fact that the boy's dad was a native bone setter hugely irked the head of the department. He showed his displeasure and began to scold the resident at every instance. Never mentioned his dad openly but he kept throwing insults like, why are you even learning orthopedics you go join your dad and put native bandages. Subjected to constant insult and ridicule the poor boy became depressed.All this was known by the psychiatry consultant because the boy came to him for counseling. He was put on anti depressants. Yet the bullying and abuse did not stop. Finally the boy's resolve broke (nearly 6 months later) and he just stopped coming.Letters were sent to his home asking him to rejoin but he did not turn up.A budding doctor's (and his poor father's) dreams and aspirations were nipped in the bud because of a professional grudge and ego.Not even an inquiry was made. I don't even know whether the boy recovered from all that and did some other specialization in his life.That senior professor and head went on to become a very powerful person in medical administration and still enjoys considerable popularity and respect. I am sure he doesn't even regret what he did to this day. And the powers to be also let him go scot free.

In 2013, at 26 years old, I was arrested and sent to Steuben County Jail in NYS. I was arrested after making the dumb mistake of driving without a driver's license, and telling the officer that I didn't have my license ON me, and gave him my sister's name and birth date. I was charged with misdemeanor probation violation with the original charge being criminal impersonation and was in jail waiting to go to court. I had never been in any legal trouble before I made the abominably stupid idea to try to trick the officer out of giving me a ticket for driving without a license.About 4 weeks into my incarceration I began getting severe headaches. It got so bad that I put in a request to go to Medical and see the jail’s Physician Assistant. After seeing her for the first time and describing pain that I felt in my nose that spread to the top of my head, I was told that I was suffering from a sinus infection. I accepted that as a plausible explication, and took the antibiotics that were prescribed to me.A week went by and the pain was getting worse, not better. I again requested to go to Medical, and was again seen by the PA. I told her the pain was getting severe, that it had spread to the side of my face and the back/side of my neck, and asked to be taken to the hospital. The PA told me that she was not sending me to the hospital, that hospital visits were only reserved for emergencies, and she had concluded I had an impacted tooth.A day went by and I was in complete agony. I was unable to move my head even the slightest bit without feeling as if my entire head would explode. The pain was so bad that I couldn't eat, sleep, and basically laid on my bunk sobbing. I begged every CO on shift to help me. Different sergeants were called in to talk to me and I'd beg them to send me to the hospital, but was always refused.At about 9 days after my headaches began I developed double vision. I told the nurse that was handing out meds that I had constant double vision. I remember telling her, “There's two of you.” I was instructed to put in a slip to request to go to medical. A few hours after the double vision began I was talking to another inmate when she went, “Oh my god, your eyes… they've shifted.” I went into my cell and looked into the mirror, and was horrified to see that I had gone cross-eyed.I had been calling my mom every day telling her that I knew something was very wrong with me. After seeing that I had gone cross eyed I called my mom, hysterically told her I was cross eyed, and asked her to call the jail and see if she could persuade them to take me to the hospital. Everyone my mom called and spoke to on the phone or talked to in person at the jail would assure her that I was getting adequate medical care.I requested to speak with a sergeant, and after about an hour one showed up to talk to me. I showed him my eyes, told him my vision was doubled, told him I was in the worst pain of my life, and pleaded with him to send me to the hospital. I told him that I knew something was seriously wrong, that I knew if I wasn't treated soon I would die. To which he said, “I didn't know that you're a doctor! Go back to your cell, you can go to Medical in the morning.”The next morning, after about my 10th sleepless, agonizing night, I descovered I could no longer walk properly. Instead of my normal stride I was now walking with small shuffled steps. I felt very unbalanced, like everything was spinning. I was on a 2nd story tier, and it was nearly impossible for me to get down the stairs. I was again sent to medical, and this time I was told that I was NOT going to the hospital, to stop bothering the COs and sergeants, and that all this was, “Your own fault for taking other inmates medication.”I was completely stunned, and adamantly denied that I had taken anyone else's medication. The PA said that I must have, that it was the only explanation for my eyes going cross, and that it was obviously a drug reaction. I cried and told her it wasn't true, that it was something neurological, and begged to go to the hospital. I told her that I was positive I was going to die, begged her to save me. Cold as ice, she called in the CO and said, “Take her back to her cell. Tell everyone to stop bringing her here. She's wasting my time.”I felt absolutely helpless. I was sure that I was gravely ill and that the jail administration was just going to let me die in my cell, alone and scared, in complete agony. I was moved to the ground floor as a safety precaution, and laid on my bunk basically waiting to either become unconscious or die. The other inmates became involved, told staff they HAD to help me, but were met with deaf ears.About two hours later I remember adjusting my head, and I immediately felt a pain in my head and neck that caused me to start screaming uncontrollably. It felt like my brain was too big for my head, like my head would explode. The sergeant on duty was called, and when he came to my cell I recalled saying, “Please, you have to help me, I'm a human being, I'm only 26 years old, please don't let me die.” I was overwhelmed with joy and gratitude when he replied, “Okay, get your shoes on, we'll get you checked out.” I sobbed uncontrollably, and just kept thanking him.He had to keep his arm around me to help me walk up the hall. We got to the end of the hall and he stopped to open a side door and led me in. We entered a room with a desk, two cells, and a shower. He opened the cell door to one of the cells and set me down on a wood bench. He left, shutting the door behind him. I asked him, “When am I going to the hospital?” to which he replied, “ You're not. We can't have you screaming like that, bothering everyone on the unit. You are staying in Constant Watch until you can grow up.”I was absolutely devestated. I was being held in the cells they usually use to watch people who are suicidal. I was put in the cell, the desk was moved right in front of it, and a guard was placed at the desk to watch me. Why he told me I was going to go to the hospital I don't know. I've never felt more let down in my entire life.That whole night I laid in that cell sobbing. I remember singing songs to try to distract myself from the pain. I screamed a lot. I begged the guard to help me, but didn't even get a response, she just sat at her desk ignoring me. I started vomiting uncontrollably, which made the pain in my head and neck even worse. That was the worst night of my entire life.In the morning the PA came in along with a sergeant. I told her that I couldn't walk, couldn't see, and was in the worst pain of my life. I again, for the hundredth time, begged and pleaded to go to the hospital. I again reminded them that I'm a human being, that I would soon be dead. She looked at me for a minute, then said, “take her back to her cell. All this is her own fault.”I began crying and screaming, feeling like the torture and pain I was enduring didn't matter to them, that to them I was just a criminal, lower than a dog. The sergeant says to me, “it's obvious that you can't be in that much pain if you're screaming. I couldn't scream like that if my head hurt.”I continued to scream and cry. A different sergeant came in to talk to me. I said to her, “please, I'm dying, please take me to the hospital.” She stood there for a minute, then said the greatest sentence of my life, “okay, we'll get you looked at.”At the hospital I was given an MRI and CAT scan that showed nothing. Then I was given a spinal tap. The doctor told me that my spinal fluid shot out like a geyser. Tests confirmed I had Fungal Spinal Meningitis. I was told if the jail waited even 12 hours longer I would have most certainly died.My mother was able to get my judge to release me on my own recognizance so that my family could be with me while I recovered, and so I didn't have to be chained to my hospital bed being guarded by a Correctional Officer. After 10 spinal taps to get the pressure off my brain and spinal cord, and lots of heavy duty pain and anti fungal meds I did recover. I had double vision for a long time, along with trouble walking, but I did make a full recovery eventually. However, I will never recover mentally from my 11 days of hell.I lost faith in humanity after that. All these people working at the jail stood by and let me suffer. I was tortured. Trained medical staff did nothing to help, even when it was completely obvious that something was seriously wrong with me. In their eyes I was just a good for nothing criminal. I broke the law, so I deserved what I was getting.A few months later I decided I wanted to sue the jail. It is every prisoner’s right to get adequate medical care. My human rights were violated, I wanted them to pay. Well come to find out, NYS gives you 90 days to file a lawsuit against the county, something I was unaware of. I couldn't even sue.I am still plagued with horrible claustrophobia, PTSD, and nightmares. I am traumatized and don't know if I will ever fully recover.Thanks for reading. I apologize for the length and many grammatical errors!EditI'd like to thank everyone that took the time to read this, commented, and upvoted. Words cannot describe how much it means to me.I'd also like to add that not only was this traumatic for me, but my mom as well. She had seen me at a visit cross eyed and shuffling. Everyday she talked to me on the phone, heard my sobs, and me telling her I was dying. We have talked of this incident extensively, and to hear it from her point of view, a mother helpless to help her child, her child that was slowly and painfully dying in jail, while she was powerless to help, is heartbreaking.My mom called every person she could think to call, would show up at the jail, and beg them to take me to the hospital, to help her daughter. She even showed up at my judges door step in tears begging for help. My poor mom did every thing she could do, to no avail. I just wanted to add that not only did this affect me in a horrible way, but also the people who love me. The staff at the jail simply didn't care.Thank you, bless you all!

Here is my list, (I went to 20):“If the average person knew the state of law enforcement in this country, they couldn't sleep at night” - from one of my academy instructor’s lectures. Nothing has changed in 28 years. There is a reason why I always carry a gun off-duty and try to talk all of my loved ones into at least owning a firearm.There are a lot fewer of us out on the street than you know. Take your local agency's head count, lop off about 20 percent for administrative assignments, then divide the remaining amount by three or four (shifts). Then subtract about a quarter for those on days off/sick days/limited duty/training/vacation. Make it a busy night and no cars will be available and the calls pile up… and pile up.After about three years, most officers become civil service workers. They are not looking to invent new case law or do more paperwork. At five to seven years, most officers think about another line of work. If they pass that hurdle, they can last 20. At 20 plus years, unless you are driving like you are competing in the Indy-500, you're not getting stopped and you have to really, really work to be arrested.The job is not nearly as exciting as portrayed on Cops or other television shows. There is an inordinate amount of paperwork - at times it seems like we are glorified secretaries with guns.When we arrive on scene, we instantaneously know who is going to jail: the guy with no shirt (or wearing a “wife-beater”) with a mullet, usually standing in the middle of the road puffing up.Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, good happens after midnight.Don't expect me to fix in under 15-minutes what took you ten years to destroy.Don’t expect me to raise your kids. You decided for years to raise feral children with no discipline or sense of social responsibility, I can't do much in a few minutes.None of us care who you know. If you had any real juice; you'd not say anything, but would just smile and accept the citation or arrest and magically, behind the scenes, things would be fixed. I've dealt with the really connected people and have seen how they can manipulate the system - and that obviously ain’t you.You can't get our badge. Trust me, we hear that all the time. Just like how you will sue - get in line. Again, if you had power, you'd be as inconspicuous as possible.Attitude goes a long way. I've cited people I originally was going to warn and warned people who I was going to cite. Same with arrests.If we have to fight you or shoot you, we will be the first to give you medical treatment.We are not trained as social workers or psychologists but that is a big portion of our jobs. When no one else is available or can help, it seems like a good time to call the police department.When we are trying to help you and you feel like we are trying to shove a square peg into a round hole - we feel the same way. The laws and policies don't make much sense to us either.Law enforcement is one of only two jobs where everyone is an “expert” with no training or experience. The other one is being a head football coach.I sincerely apologize when we forget to be empathetic. While this our 500th burglary, this is your first time being violated. While this is our 200th dead body call, it's your first.I don't care about your prior bad experience with law enforcement. I'm here now. I've had bad experiences with plumbers, physicians and barbers, but I don't stereotype a whole profession off of one experience.Our cars aren't much different than yours. Sure we have a snazzy paint job, some special lights and a radio, but we can get as stuck as easily as you, we can have an accident just like you and we can't stop on a dime. And, we’re limited on how fast we can get to a call. We can’t go warp speed nor get traffic to part, like Moses did with the sea.We really don't care what race, sex or ethnic group you belong to, we are trying to get this issue resolved before going to the next call.We all H-A-T-E when you scare your young kids by threatening them by telling them we will arrest them. Really? Way to make your kids the next generation of cop-haters and they are now petrified to approach us if they're in danger or lost.