Chiheb Chipo
Bio
Stories (2/0)
Story Time
reproductive "Don't yell, fool; everyone is hurting here!" Modern medicine appears to be capable of almost anything. Today's medical specialists can undertake treatments even within the womb to save the lives of prematurely born infants. Still, why do so many women choose not to attend gynecologists in the summertime because of their fear of them? The issue is that, despite all of the technological advances, a doctor's personality still counts for a lot. Furthermore, everyone has a subconscious phobia of acting rudely toward others, which often veers into moral sadism. Women describe an almost ubiquitous scenario of assault at a clinic. "We were sent to the gynecology department for a diabetes test after speaking with a few other pregnant women. We were provided a room to lie down for an hour after consuming glucose. A little time later, a woman who had miscarried was brought to our room. She's sobbing in despair, as this is just another of her failed attempts, while we're all so happy and excited. The nurse furiously stated that she would not open the door and give the IV for an hour when the woman's mother arrived and asked to be transferred to a separate room. Nevertheless, she agreed to carry it out in return for abribe. Patients are often treated by doctors as if they were ordinary. Physicians let themselves get agitated while dealing with patients; after all, an auto mechanic could accidentally punch the bumper of a totaled car. "When I was seventeen, I saw a gynecologist." The doctor asked me how many partners I had. I said that I was one, really. The doctor stuck her fingers inside of me and said insolently, "What are you pouring out on me?" She had one, for sure, but why? "A lot of women choose to give birth at home in order to avoid being harassed at the clinic once again," is a lesson that most women acquire early in life. I was in the maternity ward of the nearby hospital. Everything went according to plan, and in the 40th week of pregnancy, labor began as expected. In order to expedite the drainage of the amniotic fluid, the nurse punctured the bladder. The expression on her face and the muffled wail told me that she had made a mistake. They refused to give me an explanation when I asked for a cesarean section. It's conceivable that they were just too lazy to prepare the surgery room. There were six people around me. I had the impression that the medical staff was virtually extracting the baby from me. Even then, I was beginning to suspect that the child might not make it. That's what happened in the end. When I got out of the hospital, not a single person showed me sympathy. On the other hand, she was accused of not being able to give birth organically. If you can give up on inexpensive auto repairs and get a new car for yourself, we only have one health problem. Doctors have total influence over women, and omnipotence begets permissiveness, as we all know. If the patient complains about the doctor, it won't do him any harm at all. On the other hand, a woman can suffer permanent mental harm. A twenty-year-old friend paid the doctor a visit. For whatever reason, the doctor was furious that she was supposed to see a doctor from somewhere else for the first time. She chose to take out all of her anger on the victim. Naturally, she applied an ice pack and began shrieking, "Oh, you garbage! You know how to make out with boys; you raise your legs right away, but you're not sure how to recline in a chair." She started crying out of natural loathing for her buddy, which enraged the doctor even more: "She's crying here too! "It's not proper for you to shove your dick in there!" An associate It was comfortable and serene. She was shocked at how she was handled. The second time, she went to a paid clinic, but even then, her experiences made her throw a fit and ask for water to drink. " Unfortunately, the way these individuals are handled is slowly becoming a system in which it is difficult to place blame. After all, a woman employed by the clinic is seen less as a human being and more as a tool. And how many of us are cheerful when we go to work?
By Chiheb Chipo5 months ago in Psyche
Story Time
I drive furniture for a living. At the motor depot, our delivery firm hires a parking spot for its vehicles. An ancient, still-Soviet vehicle depot, but without the overgrown weeds and piles of abandoned machinery that would normally be there, everything is in perfect order: the area is kept up, the repair area is spotless, and the cars are all driven precisely in a single line. Vans have their own space; there are only truck cranes and dump trucks. And Uncle Oleg, an elderly mechanic who has led this base's column since the 1970s, oversees the whole family. And everything is done with deference to him, which makes sense; there's a rationale behind it. One day during my first week of work, I was so eager to go home that I parked my vehicle a little bit further out rather than in a row. When the skilled driver saw this, he came over. You would level up, friend. You have your tail jutting into the driveway, notice? Indeed, it's rather typical. There is sufficient space for everyone.
By Chiheb Chipo5 months ago in Confessions