Thursday, January 6, 2011

ARCHIVE - 2008-2011

Blog Archive

254 Articles
Posted by at No comments:

SILVER MEDALS AND SPIRIT THIEVES

 
When I was in my early twenties, I took the leap of returning to school. I wanted to study journalism, so I applied at Sir George Williams College, now Concordia University, in Montreal. I had not been in school since I was about 14 years old. It was a big step.
 
When I made my application, I learned that I could not study journalism until I had taken a basic course called English 101. So I did that first. It was the first challenge. The applicants were to sit in a classroom and write three pieces, each taking three minutes, on any subject. Cold. I panicked. I had never been confronted with such a challenge. My mind was totally blank. I just couldn't think of anything to write. I remember that I finally wrote one piece about a lady with a feather in her hat. I haven't got a clue what it was about.
 
Somehow I was accepted into a class with foreign students called a "remedial" class. The first thing the teacher did when she entered the class for the first time was tell us that she never, ever, gives any student an "A" because "nobody deserves it." We were off to a great start. I struggled through the classes. It was not a pleasant experience, but I was determined.
 
One day everything changed. My husband and I took a trip to the CNE - Canadian National Exhibition - in Toronto. There we had the privilege of seeing Danny Kaye perform in a huge open stadium. The outstanding thing that I remember about that performance is that when the sky grew dark at twilight, Danny Kaye asked everyone in the audience of hundreds to strike a match. It was a sight I will never forget. Like stars in a country sky, the stadium was studded with lights. It took my breath away.
 
As soon as I got home, I wrote about Danny Kaye's performance. It was the best thing I had ever written, I thought - exciting, warm, spellbinding. I was thrilled.
 
Clearly my English teacher was not.  She asked me to step out of  the class into the hall with her and there - she accused me of plagiarism !
 
I was shocked !  Why would I plagiarize? I was paying for my course out of my own hard-earned wages. I was only taking that one course and not for any credits. Why would I cheat?
 
Well, nothing came of that accusation, but I was so upset by it that I contacted the registrar and asked to be transferred out of her class.
 
Fortunately, I was then placed in a class where I was able to function - to the extent that I started writing for the school newspaper, The Georgian. I wrote many pieces. One was called Ode to a Coffee Bean, another was about a person who finds himself in a science fiction situation, and another was a humorous piece about the Russian concept of the Troika. I can't recall the details after all these years, but I am sure there are copies of these articles among my many, many files.
 
One day, while I was at work, I received a call from the editor of The Georgian. It was one of those phone calls that you dream of - like the time I learned I was given a part in a stage play called "Never Darken My Door" - or the time when I was about 16 and impresario Eddie Feigelman sent me a telegram saying I was accepted to sing at the Red Cross Blood Donor's Marathon - or the time CTV's Thrill of a Lifetime accepted my request to make my husband's first record album. But that is a whole other story that you can read about on my blog - Mr. Nostalgia, Cliff Carter - at http://cliffcartermrnostalgia.blogspot.com.
 
The call from the editor of The Georgian was to inform me that I was to be awarded the Sir George Williams Silver Medal for Journalism for my contributions to The Georgian. Was I ever surprised !  I didn't even know such a medal existed. On the night of the awards ceremony, the editor called my name and I went up on stage. There he handed me a small box and whispered in my ear - "Don't look. The box is empty. I forgot the pin in my desk." And so I played my role - and followed the editor to his office afterward to collect my precious Silver Medal for Journalism.
 
Now here's the rub,. On October 7, 1996, Dawn McSweeney stole all my most precious valuables, all my best jewellery and personal sentimental items left to me by my darling husband - and all my pins - including my Silver Medal for Journalism.
 
And so we fight on - day and night. It is after 3:30 A.M., January 6, 2011 as I end here. There are more than 250 articles on this blog and many more on the Dawn McSweeney Robbery Case blog at http://dawnmcsweeney.blogspot.com.
 
As you can see, I have no trouble writing anymore. Or fighting.
 
Phyllis Scrapper Carter
 
Posted by at No comments:

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

REWARD FOR STOLEN PROPERTY

 
I begin this New Year with more zeal than ever, determined to continue exposing Dawn McSweeney and her "partners in crime" and the Montreal Police who continue to cover for their participation in the robbery that took place at 4995 Prince of Wales, NDG, Montreal on October 7, 1996.
 
All the details of these crimes are reported at -
THE DAWN MCSWEENEY ROBBERY CASE
 
Anyone who has pertinent information about Dawn McSweeney, Alex Lavergne, Kenneth Gregoire Prud'homme or Happy Tree Yoga is invited to leave a comment here,
 
And to contact Marlene Jennings, MP at
 
And the Montreal Police at
 
And the Minister of Public Security at
 
There will be a suitable reward when I get back everything stolen by Dawn McSweeney and her "partners in crime" and the criminals are brought before a judge in criminal court.
 
Phyllis Carter
Posted by at No comments:

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

DANCING NAKED

 
Dancing naked on my mother's grave -
While wearing a large cross and a bullet proof vest !
 
Bizarre? In 2007, in Montreal, Quebec, Canada, in order to discredit, intimidate and silence me, a stranger named Kenneth Gregoire Prud'homme applied for a court order declaring that I was insane and dangerous.
 
Among the accusations in the formal complaint, Kenneth Gregoire Prud'homme, - a man I had never met or spoken to - told the court in writing that  -
 
Phyllis Carter
 
Dances naked on her mother's grave while wearing a bullet proof vest,
Wears a large cross,
Quotes the Bible,
Kills cats by throwing them against a wall,
Sets fires for pleasure,  and
Dreams of killing her parents in their bed ….
 
These accusations appear in the written application to the court made by Kenneth Gregoire Prud'homme with the help of a social worker at the Pierrefonds, Quebec, CLSC  (Quebec Community Clinic). 
 
Without ever speaking to me,
Without any medical evidence or any medical report,
Without any witnesses - other than my accusers - Dawn McSweeney's "partners in crime"  -
 
In just four minutes, a Quebec Court judge issued a court order to have me picked up by the Montreal Police and taken to hospital for a thirty-day mental evaluation.
 
Montreal Police knocked on my door and took me away like any common criminal or lunatic. I should interject for the sake of accuracy that the police apparently did not see me as an insane person and they treated me with respect while they drove me to the hospital.
 
I was kept prisoner in two hospitals - the Jewish General Hospital and the Royal Victoria Hospital - until two psychiatrists spoke with me on the third day. They quickly realized that something extra ordinary had occurred and I was released immediately and unconditionally. I had been taken from my home by the Montreal Police and held as a dangerous lunatic for three days, based solely on the accusations you have just read. This, in Canada in the 21st Century.
 
It took some effort on the part of my Member of Quebec's Legislative Assembly, Russell Copeman, to get a written apology from the CLSC for their negligence in aiding and abetting the crimes committed by Dawn McSweeney's accomplices.
 
However the authorities refused to hold the judge responsible for his decision - based solely on the bizarre application made by Prud'homme which was "co-signed" - no doubt under duress - by Dawn McSweeney's mother.
 
Do you feel safe living in Quebec? What if someone wanted to intimidate you?
 
For all the details, see
 
PHYLLIS CARTER'S JOURNAL
 
 
Posted by at No comments:

MURDER BY VIRUS

 
YOU MAKE ME SICK !  BUT IT'S LEGAL.
 
I expect that every civilized state has laws against murder. As far as I know, it is illegal to intentionally injure another person. I can't understand why there appears to be no law in Quebec against deliberately making another person sick.
 
If you find yourself in hospital or at a CLSC, you will see patients in the waiting rooms and on the elevators and in all the public areas coughing, sneezing, blowing and hacking. Of course hospitals and clinics are the places where sick people go to seek help. But why is it that so many of those sick people - including medical staff - bypass the stands where hand cleaning fluid and surgical masks are placed for the use of those who have cold or flu symptoms?
 
I have spent time in the emergency department of the Jewish General Hospital where patients go about among the gurneys coughing here and blowing there, completely at liberty to spread their mucous and viruses generously over those who have come in to have a broken leg repaired or to investigate chest pains.
 
I have asked staff at the hospital and at the CLSC why they allow patients and staff members who are coughing to go about freely without putting on a mask. I am told that the authorities of the hospital and the CLSCs do not have the authority to require a patient to wear a mask no matter how sick they are. No one can stop you from coughing and sneezing in the face of another patient in hospital or the clinics.
 
Hospital and CLSC authorities "do not have the authority" to protect patients from being infected by irresponsible sick people walking freely among them !
 
Why is there no law to protect us from those who deliberately threaten our health - or even our lives?  Is murder by virus less deadly than any other kind of murder ?
 
Who is responsible for our safety ?
 
Posted by at No comments:

Sunday, January 2, 2011

THE TRUTH ABOUT TRUTH - IT ISN'T EASY

 
The first thing that must be said about truth is that it is a rarity and rarely used. The world of the 20th and 21st centuries to which I am witness is built on lies. Almost everyone lies some of the time, and those who hold positions of power lie routinely, and more so about matters of real importance. I need not elaborate on this because almost everyone knows this to be true and almost everyone accepts this as normal.
 
I grew up surrounded by white lies and lies of convenience and lies of self defence and lies told to distract or amuse and lies that were told for no good reason at all. It took half a century and a vicious crime against my family for me to come to a point where I could no longer bear to hear or speak a lie.
 
Here are some of the things I have learned about truth:
 
You can deny it, suppress it, distort it, try to discredit it, try to shame or intimidate or silence the one who tells it. You can hide it under a pile of lies and deceptions. You can find associates who will help you smother it or heap dirt or ridicule on it. You can shove it under a bushel basket and sit on it. But the truth about truth is that it is always true. And it will shine through.
 
It is not slander or libel to tell the truth, but respected people have told me that it is not always necessary to tell the truth. The "Partners in Crime" who robbed me and my family went so far as to obtain a court order against me declaring that I was insane and dangerous in order to try to stop me from telling the truth.
 
Frank Shoofey was a well-known Montreal lawyer who helped many working class people. Knowing that, I dared to ask to see him - without any money. It was in the 1970's. I wanted to tell him about my experience with Pinkerton where I was employed at the time as a grade two investigator. There were many things going on in our offices that were not kosher. It bothered me. I had such respect for Pinkerton's history and reputation. I was so proud to be a Pinkerton. I felt I just had to report what I knew. But I feared the power of the people running the great and famous agency at the time.
 
What if they sue me?
 
Frank Shoofey told me this: "Anyone can sue anyone for anything. But it they sue you, I will defend you for free." And I breathed a sigh of relief. There was someone who would defend me if I told the truth !
 
When I brought the still half-drunk supervisor up before the president of Pinkerton Quebec in Montreal - virtually by the scruff of his neck - Paul St. Amour said, "I know what he is doing. And you know what he is doing. But he keeps the books in the black. New York won't let me do anything about him."
 
After discussing this with Frank Shoofey, I suffered over this problem for many months. I was afraid. Pinkerton detectives carry guns. But finally, I reported the supervisors at Pinkerton Montreal in a minutely detailed letter to head office in New York.
 
Quite some time later, I received a letter from a supervisor at the New York office - a man who signed almost the identical name to the man I had reported  - saying Pinkerton was "sad and surprised" and Pinkerton would investigate. A strange coincidence, I thought. Of course, they did nothing.
 
I feared I might meet a dark end in a dark alley somewhere if I went any further. So I ended it there. But I did tell the truth and, in time, the fear faded and I came to no harm.
 
And Frank Shoofey?  It seems he must have helped people who other people didn't want helped. He was murdered.
 
It is not always easy to tell the truth. If it were easy, everyone would tell the truth all the time. But being truthful is the only way a person can stand eye to eye with the enemy and breathe freely.
 
The reader will find nothing but the truth at -
 
 
and at
 
THE DAWN MCSWEENEY ROBBERY CASE
http://dawnmcsweeney.blogspot.com
 
Posted by at No comments:

Saturday, January 1, 2011

ABUSE AT THE JEWISH GENERAL HOSPITAL

 
BLAME THE PATIENT
 
Yes. That is the way the administration of the Jewish General Hospital deals with complaints from the few patients who dare to report abuses. Blame the victim, the patient. If you are abused - made to suffer due to a staff member's carelessness or incompetence or negligence, or even arrogance, management will say you are overly sensitive. In fact, I have that in writing from Dr. Joseph Portnoy, chief of staff, after I reported the agony of a botched colonoscopy. It was not the only time he blamed me for being too sensitive when I have reported abuse.

Once you are in the emergency department of the JGH your life is no longer in your hands. Abuse by some nurses - and even some doctors - is ignored and patients, visitors and staff who witness abuse will not interfere to help you. Patients are treated like dummies, guinea pigs, insensitive mannequins.

Of course, most nurses are not to blame. I am writing about those who should be blamed, but who are protected by what is - in police forces - called the Blue Line. The union. Once I waylaid a doctor coming off an elevator in a hospital to summon him urgently to save the life of a newborn baby who was turning blue from lack of oxygen. He came running with me but told me he was doing it at the risk of his career - because the baby was not his patient and the nurses might go out on strike and he would be blamed.

That doctor saved my niece's life and Dawn McSweeney grew up to be the thief who destroyed my family. But that is another story about abuse and injustice - in this case by the Montreal Police who helped the thief. You can read all the details at http://dawnmcsweeney.blogspot.com.  No good deed goes unpunished.

December 28, 29, 2010
 
I spent two days and one night in emergency department at the Jewish General Hospital in Montreal. This has been my hospital all my life. On these two days, it was in a state of chaos, a nightmare, bursting at the seams. For the sake of accuracy I must note that patients waiting so long to see a doctor appeared weary, anxious and disgruntled, but they were not disorderly.
 
Having experienced pressure on my chest two nights in a row, I arrived at the triage office at 10:30 AM, December 28. The triage nurse saw me at noon. An EKG was taken immediately. I was brought into a booth a few hours later.

On the second day, two young nurses tried to install an intra venous line to prepare me for a CT scan. I had asked for Nurse Susan Tremblay to do the procedure because at a previous time, she had done so successfully. But these young nurses said, Tremblay was at lunch and I was late for my appointment for the CT scan, so I had to let them try to find a vein or forget about the test after all the preparation.

I asked if we could wait until Tremblay returned from lunch. Then they said that I had refused to have the intra venous installed the previous day and Susan Tremblay was so offended that I refused to let her do it when she wanted to do it, that she would not do it today - the day of the test. Why should a 74 year old cancer patient with pressure on her chest push around a IV pole for an extra twelve hours? Not for the patient's sake, but for the convenience of the nurse.

So one young nurse forced a needle into my arm while the other egged her on - in spite of my screams. And the two young nurses scolded me for making a fuss - while all the people around us pretended not to see or hear my pain. As is usual at the JGH, not one staff member or patient or visitor said a word to protect me. So with all those witnesses, I was tortured by two young nurses and my cries for them to "Stop !" were completely ignored.

And, as usual when nurses fail to install an IV they blame the patient - "It was a good vein", she says, "but it burst". And the next try, "It was a good vein - but it burst". And so it went until I was sobbing. And no one said a word. It is never the fault of an incompetent nurse, but the fault of the patient's veins. I have learned from seventeen years of experience, that the nurses who are patient and skilful at putting in IVs do not cause burst veins. I am an eye and flesh witness.

The pain and humiliation of what those two young nurses did to me on December 29 left me sobbing in front of all the other patients. Those young nurses treated me with contempt and cruelty. And I know there will be no consequences for them. There never is. They are such sweet, caring girls. You are known for being overly sensitive.
 
Someone may talk to the nurses, as they did to Dr. Jerome Stasiak the day he ordered me to get dressed and get into a wheelchair and he would have someone push me out to a taxi immediately. He didn't do a thing to find out that I had bone cancer. You can read that report on my blog as well.

If you steal a loaf of bread, there is a penalty. If you steal a car. There is a penalty. But if you almost kill a patient, the hospital authorities "talk" to you.

Following the CT scan on December 29, a male nurse in emergency came and told me I have kidney problems. He told me it was my fault that the intra venous line that the young nurse had finally forced into my hand had burst and infiltrated my flesh and had to be removed before the treatment was finished because my hand blew up like a balloon.

Now kidney failure? I was so scared. A hard slap in the face by the male nurse because I had not allowed him to install the IV line. He had hurt me on a previous occasion and I do not forget. So he tells me I have kidney trouble and I am responsible for botching the treatment that would have protected my kidneys. But there will be no consequences for him either.

"Dehydrated" says my oncologist. "I am not concerned in the least about it", says the wise doctor calmly, and he asks if I am ready to go home. I had not eaten or had anything to drink and I had not slept in a couple of days. But the male nurse didn't discuss anything with me. He just blamed me and scared me for no reason except to display his power over me, over my life, because I was under his control.

Little people oppress victims who are under their control. Doctors, nurses, teachers and police officers are found in this category of little tyrants. Unfortunately they have a lot of power over their victims when they are most vulnerable and they can abuse that power with impunity because no one dares to complain.

Stop talking to patients as if we are idiots. I descend from my high perch on the gurney and head left to the bathroom. A nurse calls out, "Where are you going, Madam?" "I'm going to the bathroom", says the idiot patient. "The bathroom is this way, Madam. This way!" replies the authority on bathrooms.

I keep walking. The bathroom that way is down the long hall and a woman with shingles on her private parts has just been in there. The bathroom I was heading for is around the corner and twelve steps away. I kept walking half expecting the nurse to call security on the escapee.

In the CT scan waiting room, the tech calls me into the lab. I turn left to go and pick up my bag. One of the techs calls out, "No ! No, Madam! The lab is this way." I know. It has always been there through the years. It hasn't moved. I take another step toward my bag. "No, Madam, this way!", she orders.
 
I lost it. "I am going to pick up my bag. Stop talking to the patients as if we are idiots !" The techs apologized.

Stop talking to patients as if we are idiots!

Coming to the emergency department, patients are sick, in pain, worried, fearful, exhausted. How should they "look"? Dr. Bernard Unger told me one day in 2009, when I was deathly ill, that the first time he ever saw me in the emergency department of the JGH, he looked at my face and decided that I "looked hostile".

This conversation took place after I had lodged a complaint about the events of April 1, 2009 when his colleague, Dr. Jerome Stasiak, almost killed me.

But Dr. Unger told me that he had judged me to be "hostile" years earlier merely by looking at my face, the first time he ever saw me. For what reason? He just saw me and had never even spoken to me. Where did that hostility really come from? One might wonder.

Strangely enough, this little comment by Dr. Unger really hurt me because I had always liked him. In fact, when I went home and remembered it, I had a hard time trying not to cry. He hated me for no reason at all. And I am sensitive. I am human.

If you prick us, do we not bleed ?
 
In the third week of April, 2009, emergency room Dr. Stern forced me to leave the emergency department to return the next morning for more tests. I was so sick and it cost so much in energy and taxi fare to travel an extra day when I could have spent the night in the waiting room if necessary.
 
But Dr. Stern threatened to call security and have me "thrown out" if I did not leave the building. Why? Would I have taken up so much place using one seat somewhere else in that huge hospital that is so empty late at night ?

There are waiting rooms throughout the hospital where I might have stayed. But he threatened to have security remove me. I am not noisy, I am not rude or irrational. Why did I have to be removed? Only because Dr. Stern had to prove that he was in charge and that I was helpless.

When Dr. Stern said I had to leave or he would call security against me, I told him I would leave the hospital and sit on the sidewalk outside and tell everyone passing by what he had done. I told him that he would be responsible if something happened to me. He answered that he was not responsible for his patients' lives. He said I was responsible if anything happened to me.

He would not relent. I had to go home and come back the next day, at the cost of so much energy and pain and anxiety and $40.00 more in taxis, paid from my government social security income. I was so sick, I could not go back for the tests the next day, so the tests were delayed.

Below are listed some other reports I have published about my experiences at the Jewish General Hospital. If these things happen to me, I have no doubt they happen to many other patients and at other hospitals everywhere. I have witnessed and reported patient abuses to Rosemary Steinberg, the Patients' Ombudsperson at the JGH. But people are afraid to complain about doctors, nurses, police and other authorities - but especially about hospital staff because they feel so indebted and obligated and dependent on them. Some fear the "mystery" the "magic" that they attribute to the power of doctors. So this is a lonely occupation - reporting truth to those who do not want to hear it - and rarely with anyone to support me in my quest for justice.

"Expose the deeds of darkness" the bible tells us, (Ephesians 5:11) and "Justice, only justice" shalt thou pursue (Deuteronomy 16:20.)

You may want to read about my friend Alma Mia Petridas Dallaire Kotsos at Phyllis Carters Journal. She was so afraid to ask her doctor to speed up her cancer treatment that she died, waiting politely for the doctor to get started.
 
I say once again, there are excellent doctors and nurses at the Jewish General Hospital - care givers who are expert and caring and devoted, even self-sacrificing but, as in the case of police forces, the bad ones are protected by the system. That casts a dark shadow over all the goodness of those who deserve our respect and trust and gratitude and, yes, even our love.

Only when people take responsibility to stand up for justice and for the innocent will we have any hope of turning our society away from its ugly state. It takes energy and it takes courage to fight the great systems of power that rule our lives. Young doctors and nurses who witness abuses are themselves afraid to speak out. They want to succeed and they dare not step out of line.
 
I keep looking for heroes and have found just a few - members of organizations that are crying out against injustice for survivors of crime and abuse. There is hope.

I note that members of the Paperman Funeral Home family serve as trustees at the JGH - a respected and worthy family - just waiting to "serve" the patients.
 
We must fight to live.
 
Posted by at No comments:
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)