Agony to Advocacy

Photographer: Ker're-Point & Click Photography Makeup-Olevia Andrews- O' on the Glow

Venue: Title Boxing Club Missouri City

AGONY TO ADVOCACY: TWO PEOPLE, ONE MISSION

by: Deirdre Dickson-Gilbert

GOD SENT TWO: Myself (Deirdre Dickson Gilbert) and Ethel Easter-Dismuke had no idea that our paths would cross. Our stories of agony to advocacy was a journey born out of the emotional depths of medical malpractice that led us to becoming advocates for those who could not speak for themselves. On the opposite sides of town, working in two separate occupations, living our own lives, God was preparing us for the training exercise for the purpose of empowering others. What we did not know was that we were about to be forced into a world of boundaries and secrets that would leave us breathless. “After this the Lord appointed seventy-two others and sent them two by two ahead of him to every town and place where he was about to go.” Luke 10:1

THE STORIES OF AGONY begin with Ethel, who moved to Houston in 2005 working as a Police Dispatcher, eventually going back to college and becoming a business owner. After graduation, she opened Resurrection Aerobics Studio. Ethel was active, full of life and having the time of her life. Out of the blue, Ethel began to have unbearable stomach pains, later discovering she had a hiatal hernia. Ethel was having over 100 attacks within a 24 hour period. It was obvious from her pain that she was going to need surgery. She met with a doctor in her medical plan, and during her initial visit for preparation of surgery, she began to see the first signs of what would change her life forever. Her doctor was rude, yelling and had no compassion for her. Ethel, with tears in her eyes, and pain in her body had no idea what she was about to embark on. She spoke with her family, letting them know that she was afraid and that she did not know if she would make it out of surgery. With hesitation, she agreed to proceed, but she knew she needed protection. Protection from what, she didn’t know. Ethel placed a small recording device in her braids, telling her family before they rolled her in, that if she did not make it, they would know the truth. She remembers falling asleep and waking up in recovery. She was sent home and in two days returned to the ER because she began itching and her body began to swell. She was also having vision problems and began to worry. That’s when she decided to listen to her recording device; not really planning to hear anything, but she was in for a surprise. The doctors and nurses were saying things like, “Oh well, she’s not allergic to penicillin, that was when she was younger...”Look at her belly button, I feel sorry for her husband...”Should we touch her and take pictures... “Precious meet Precious (sounds of giggling, making reference to the movie Precious, where the main character was overweight and the victim of rape)...”She has a lot of nerve to say something to the doctor whose doing her surgery.” Ethel is distraught with tears in her eyes, asking how and why a doctor would do such a thing. They risked her life and talked about her while she was under anesthesia. Are there no morals, dignity and integrity? Did they not take the Hippocratic Oath? My Story... I was handed the belongings of my daughter Jocelyn. I was standing in the foyer of the hospital, tears flowing like streams of water. All I could hear was, “Momma Help Me, Please.” It was Valentine’s Day 2011, and my mother had just dropped off Jocelyn at school with cake and candy for her classmates. How was it that I was now holding her clothes in a bag, never to hear the sound of her voice again? How was it that for 22 years, Jocelyn had fought valiantly for every breath she had taken in, and won every medical challenge known to man, but on this day, was of no value to society? Jocelyn’s story, my journey, is about my struggle for justice and the truth. How is it that a young girl that was laughing and having the time of her life, is now crying immensely because a piece of corn dog was lodged in her esophagus? We had been down this road before, so there was no worry and I believed that things would be ok. My world was turned upside down. How is it that a young girl is rushed to the hospital, with a piece of corndog lodged in her esophagus, ends up in a hospital room, attached to a Propofol drip, with 6 sponges sewn in her abdomen, perforations of the esophagus and colon, in which a CAT Scan revealed that 13 hours before she was pronounced dead, having suffered sepsis and cardiac arrest, bleeding from every orifice, with mom and grandmother waiting outside, without one word from medical professionals that my daughter was gone? As I am grappling with what has happened, doctors were whispering, “She lived long enough,” referring to my daughter. They failed to tell us that the doctor was intoxicated, and that they knew he was responsible for her demise, but they kept quiet. They kept Silent. This is when we were introduced to Medical Malpractice. MEDICAL MALPRACTICE was the single thread that brought Ethel and I together. We were both caught in an inescapable network of mutuality and tied in a single garment of destiny-ADVOCACY. Every organization and attorney that we turned to told us there was nothing that anyone could do because of Tort Reform, but they didn’t know that we had been appointed for this task. It took every fiber of our existences to push through the rejection. Despite the willingness to take up the mantle for victims of medical malpractice, we were confronted with blasted hopes and dark shadows of disappointment. Medical Malpractice was and still is two words that are met with “silence.” These two words have psychologically disabled the entire medical community. Our cases, complaints and causes have been stamped “frivolous.” No one spoke of the atrocity, that’s what we thought. For decades this has been an issue, but cases were still being dismissed or unheard. We kept hearing, “No justice will ever be granted.”