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Mon 20 Jun 2022 06:36:30 AM UTC : 1655706990 Harvesting Humans Here we go... In the 19th century mostly, continuing slightly in to the 20th, something called "baby farming" was practiced in England and, owing to their colonial origin, Australia and New Zealand. Described as is 'the historical practice of accepting custody of an infant or child in exchange for payment... Some baby farmers "adopted" children for lump-sum payments, while others cared for infants for periodic payments' Needless to say, people being what they are, there were many cases in which the "farmer" accepted the child and then (obviously in the case of the lump-sum payment) either neglecting to care for the child or actually killing it, for the purpose of personal enrichment. And it happened quite often. How often is not known, as only those brought to justice are in the statistics. There certainly were quite a few known and as they say about roaches and other vermin "for every one you see..." It should also be noted that in most (if not all) cases in which people were executed for murdering children left in their care, there were numerous other victims in addition to the ones for which they paid the price with their own lives. Again, for every victim you know about... kinda like Ted Bundy, there is no complete list. Even he probably didn't remember them all. As it is with predators in the animal kingdom, so it is with humans. Particularly those humans are human in form only, and in their inner nature like the lower animals, acting on instinct. And when the instinct is to prey on others, they do. The practice of baby farming died out in the early twentieth century, but human beings, the subhuman type that look so much like normal ones that they are impossible to distinguish without observation, will all avarice and greed to drive them to prey upon their fellows. They will always find a way, and often that way is provided to them by people with good intentions but without ability, and perhaps willingness, to do the difficult work of ensuring that their good deeds are not exploited by the subhumans. It is said that the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and inasmuch as it refers to unintended consequences those consequences can be hellish indeed for the victims. As a child (in the 1960s) I often heard it said of someone that they "kept welfare children" or that some person was a 'welfare child'. Commonly known as foster children, these children were placed in the homes of caregivers by the government welfare agencies. The caregivers were paid for providing this care, and as the payment exceeded the actual expenses there was some small profit, as was proper. And practical as most people would not do it if incurring a financial loss. The ones I was acquainted with were with families acquainted with my own, and they were decent people who cared for the children well and they no doubt had a better life than they would otherwise have had. (The habit of governments now taking away the children of people who are not endangering or abusing them but have been falsely accused or are the target of political persecution does indeed often leave children in the custody of strangers who may abuse them.) Today, of course, due to the incompetence and corruption of the government agencies overseeing this activity, cases of children being abused, neglected and even killed are quite common. That is a matter for another time. Some people prey on other people, for various reasons. Insane or evil people harm or kill others because they enjoy it, or it at least satisfies some unnatural compulsion even they might not understand Others may do so from a misguided belief that because they are doing (in their eyes) good works, which excuses their misdeeds. Human traffickers, whether Romans or Arabs buying and selling captives of war, or slave traders selling the indigenous people of Africa for use as laborers in faraway lands, are truly evil. Perhaps because they are usually not insane they are less tolerable than mass murderers or serial killers. Religious figures may believe that because they are saving peoples' souls or improving their lives in some way it is acceptable to use nefarious methods to acquire the wealth they believe they need. Others believe that their value to society, their fellow humans, is such that they are entitled to abuse them if it suits their purposes. And it is into that last category that the denizens of the medical industry fall. That the long-revered, to some sacred (how many hospitals are named after saints or are affiliated with churches or religious orders?) profession has been corrupted to the point that it seems as evil as any criminal enterprise. And in fact is little more than a collection of criminal enterprises. Whether it is pharmaceutical companies buying the government and at the same time bribing hospitals and doctors to promote their (often useless and even harmful) products or the numerous hospitals and other dispensers of "health care" defrauding insurance companies and (through Medicare and Medicaid) the taxpayers, the entire ecosystem is permeated with the most toxic corruption. Thus we arrive at the matter of trafficking in human beings, medical industry style. It has been observed there is no profit in dead people (beyond the relative pittance for the funeral industry, and a one-time payment at that) and there is no money in healthy people. The profit is in between, making healthy people sick (or convincing them that they are or will be if they do not utilize one or another product) and once they are sick and in the hands of the medical industry vast profits can be extracted with ease. And when it is all being paid for by someone other than the "sick" people (insurance or Medicare/Medicaid) there is little resistance. People don't want to die, or even be sick, and will do whatever they are told will make them not dead or not sick. Of course, should you have an illness or injury which gives you no choice, once you are in "the healthcare system" the only way you will get out alive is if it has extracted a sufficient amount of money from you for the time being and decides to let you out for a while, so you can get sick again and come back. And when you lose complete control of your destiny and there is no one to help you... Well, that was me. Fortunately there was someone to help me, and I survived. Barely. 15 December 2020. Age 65, reasonably good health. Well, there was that blockage in an artery. Office called the ambulance. Took me to the local hospital. Decent one as hospitals go. Was in there once for pneumonia. Six days, a couple longer than necessary, but they gotta do what makes it profitable. Remember looking at one of the bills. Six lines. One for each day. Doctor visit. Each day he came in, looked at the chart, asked me how I was feeling. Ten minutes tops. $175. Per day. Dunno what the total was, seems like may have been 20K. Some years ago. Insurance paid. Anyway, I'm in the hospital again. Say I gotta go over to St. Barnyards, sorry, that's an affectionate nickname. Honest. St. Bernards in Jonesboro. About 20 miles. Ambulance. Nice four-lane all the way to NEA Baptist. Biggest, newest hospital in town. And it was on the right side of the highway. Just slow down, hang a right, down to the emergency entrance. Not bad, you gotta guy havin a heart attack over in Paragould, lucky to be there that quick. Waitasec. We was going to St. Bernards. It's about another five or six miles, but through congested city streets. Old narrow streets. And a hundred year old hospital that is only accessible through those narrow streets filled with downtown traffic.... Oh, by the way, NEA is a bigger, better, newer hospital with more doctors and equipment and stuff and... They took another ten to fifteen minutes getting to St. Bernards. Must be a reason. Guess we know what it is. $$$ Forgot to mention that the first hospital (that's Arkansas Methodist Medical Center in Paragould, Arkansas) went and stuck a needle in one of my kidneys. Dye. Trying to insert a catheter, dunno know why. That dye is known to cause kidney failure just by being in the body, and they done went and mainlined it to my kidney. That's important later, by the way. I don't remember anything that happened after I left for work that morning. In fact I don't remember that either. I don't remember anything that happened before early March. Yep. St. Bernie doctors did a good job. I guess so. I'm alive. Bypass surgery. Took a piece of a vein outta my leg and stuck it there wherever they needed a new, or slightly used but in good condition, piece of vein. Leg swells now, unless I wear an old-people-with-varicose-veins on that leg. So not too bad. And I'm alive. The main bill (there's always lots of bills, large and small, from hospitals and various doctors gettin in for a little personal cut, however that works) was over $260,000. Probably not too bad, I dunno. Was in there a month. Partly on account of at some point I stopped breathing. And my heart stopped. Both. Twelve minutes. They thinkin I'm a goner. Two sisters had gone home the night before (40 miles away) after being told I was "resting comfortably" and was gonna come back after church. Didn't get to church. Sister's phone rang on the way. Hospital. "We've lost him." Was what they said. Well, by the time they got there they'd found me. Course that whole cardio-respiratory failure thing wasn't so good. Someone there told them they shouldn't be expecting me to wake up. Silly thing. Don't say stuff like that to the customer. Another one said she shouldn't have said that. Ya think? Like I say, I was out of it. Stayed out of it until 15 January. Birthday number 66. Slept through it. Too bad, that's where the real fun began. They couldn't have some comatose dude takin up an ICU bed. Whaddyado? Hey, send'em over to ACCH. ACCH is the Arkansas Continued Care Hospital of Jonesboro. It'd been there a while, couple of years it turns out. Well, the buildings and stuff in them, hospital stuff, had been there longer. There's a rundown here that explains that. I'd seen it before, when it opened, big fancy sign. "Arkansas Continued Care Hospital". Continued care is right. They'll continue "caring" for you as long as they can keep the money comin and you breathin. See, ACCH is a special kind of hospital, special laws and all, just for them. Called a 'Long Term Acute Care Hospital'. Got its own cool acronym of course. LTACH. Sounds like a military vehicle. Law lets them get more money than other hospitals for some things. Stuff like that. Aside from the other problems (namely the incentive to "care" for people as long as possible) they have to have an average stay of 25 days per patient. What could possibly go wrong. Granny in there, broke hip or somethin', she 'bout ready but it's only twenty days. No problem, you just tell the family or whoever whatever you please and how could they prove your lyin even if they knew. So you milk grandma and grandpa and Uncle Silas as long as you need, and of course you go over as much as you can, 'cause it's an average. I talk about Grandma and Grandpa because what was in there was about all old people. Older than me. Once the game was up and my family was threatening to make some real trouble they let me wake up. Quit pumpin in the drugs that kept me comatose. Figgered they better get me ambulatory quick. To abbreviate a lengthy narrative, they got me up (I'd been awake a couple of weeks by now) and tried to get me to walk. Three days before I could stand, in a manner of speaking. Between the physical therapist (if he in fact was one, I have doubts) and his assistant (the big guy that makes sure you don't fall) close enough to touch, in fact probably touching most of the time. Technically I was standing. Eventually I could stand in a walker and move around. Walked down the halls that way, them behind and in front of me. Movin pretty slow, plenty of time to look into the rooms. Doors always open. Old folks, layin on their backs. Head back, starin at the ceiling if their eyes were open, probably not in most cases. Warehouse, people in storage. Money rollin in. Didn't click until I figured out what they'd done. Someone at St. Bernies said that about me probably being brain-dead. A bonanza. I might not even die right away. Put'em in there, pump in the drugs. Dunno why they didn't just use regular drugs to make me sleep. They was puttin in stuff used to treat crazy people. Schizophrenia, psychosis, bipolar, stuff like that. Those psycho drugs cause permanent brain and neuro damage, and they sure did on me. Some of them essentially chemically lobotomize you. It's been close to a year and I still have trouble gettin myself to do anything, have to have a checklist to do every day, someone call me and see how I'm doin a few times. Shouldn't be livin alone, wouldn't if I didn't have family ten minutes away. Can just move around the house with a walker, but barely. Mostly sittin in this chair, thinkin bout what they did to me and why they gettin away with it. I was just a body in their farm, generating revenue at whatever hundreds or thousands of dollars a day. My mother (born on 29 October 1929) used to say if she was like some people she knew, she would need two beds because she couldn't sleep with herself. If I were these people, I dunno if I could sleep anywhere. If I were as despicable as these predators I'd be tempted to kill myself. But that would require me to experience guilt. Have a conscience. Subhumans are not thus encumbered. What do these predators look like? Well, as I said, they don't look different from regular people. Here's a couple Dr. Copeland is a rather inexperienced doctor. Finished his residency just three or four years earlier, spent a couple of years at the best hospital in Jonesboro (for what that's worth) and then strangely ended up workin in a hospice in, guess where? The ACCH facility. From there he went to ACCH as their medical director or some such thing. He's the one overseeing my "care". Never saw him. Even after I woke up for those last couple of weeks, those daily visits. Never happened. I asked the nurses every day. Please be sure Dr. Copeland sees me when he makes his rounds. Lie there in the bed for yours, lookin at the door. When's the doctor comin? I wanna know when I get out of here. Doctor never came. Bet there was a line on the bills to Blue Cross. One per day. How much? Idunno. Hafta ask the insurance company. Just guessin' it was more than $175. Sixty-eight days. My human person's body was used to generate revenue for these greedy evil people. Ya'know, I understand some people are greedy and not too honest when it comes down to it. Cheat a little on the expense account, not report some cash income long as there's no way anyone can ever prove you got it. Pad the bills to the insurance company and Mediscare. Little bit, they won't even bother to check. Enough people stealin millions to keep the regulators busy. When I say I understand it I mean I know it happens. I'm a lot like my father. Said he figured there was no sense in lyin. Figured he'd get caught right off anyway, and the mental stress just made it too much trouble. I see that in myself. I wouldn't lie to stay out of trouble so I just made sure I didn't do things I'd need to lie about. Guess some folks ain't that way. What? The other predator? Oh, him. A real prize. Guy name of James Cox. CHC (Community Hospital Corporation, Plano, Texas) had installed him as CEO just before I arrived. Talk about a smarmy loser. He's the other guy in that pic with the fat doc. He from Jonesboro too. Had a sweet gig about nine years. Company called Ascent Children's Health Services. Bunch of clinics or whatever around northeast Arkansas. For the children, donchaknow? Harvesting the generous Medicaid bounty. Such a sweet deal he'd probably still be there if the company was. But it ain't. One day some of his (he was the COO - Chief Operating Officer) and one day some of his low-budget employees left a five-year-old kid strapped in a seat in a van in 90+ (outside - more like 120+ inside) for eight hours. As if that hadn't happened many times before and was always bein in the news. Horrible story, not enough the kid dyin. He had managed to free one of his arms and one of his legs but couldn't get free. You see, in describing my experiences in that hell-hole I noted that they were tying me to the bed with these thin wires. Apparently while in my drugged state (guess the drugs had worn off enough for me to move and they hadn't refilled me) I pulled out a feeding tube. Had to send me back to St. Barnyards to have it reinstalled. Made them unhappy. Can't be watchin me all the time to see I don't thrash around or nothin. Tied me up with wire. After I was awake they kept doin it. Wouldn't let me loose. Have any idea what that's like? I don't scare easily but that was scary. Yeah, that stuff happens everywhere. Anyone paying attention knows it. I asked those hospitals (St. Bernards, NEA, AMMC) if they didn't think maybe it shouldn't be happening in Jonesboro. Never heard from them. Doubt if they know I exist. But you know something... Links
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