Hello,

I finally need to talk. This is my first time seeking out a place like this. All of you are brave. Thank you for your attention.

Background: I grew up kinda okay, have always been an intelligent introvert with a spectator role in life. Felt good, but I was too sensitive, self-critical and way too empathic for my own good. 

Fast forward to my teenage years, my father got really ill, doctors diagnosed mutilple heart diseases. From then on, life got much worse. My father had bouts with depression and anger. My leisure during youth often consisted of hospital visits with a constant stream of bad news and outbursts of rage at home.

During this time, the next years become really blurry, I felt uncomfortable partying, seeminlgy surrounded by nothing but adventurous extroverts only caring about the next high. 

Then, a descisive hospital stay. I subconsiously started to mimic the symptoms of my dad for way too long before I realized. Neverending extreme panic attacks for hours upon hours, countless doctor visits and examinations, misunderstanding therapists having no answer, being shocked of my condition. 
Life comes at you FAST.

Got a dog on my birthday to help me get better. It helped me to forget the negative things and I got better. I loved him dearly.

A few months later, doctors told us that my father needs to undergo heart surgery. They denied answers and explanations for their reasons to ignore minimally invasive therapy and shut us down in public. First time in life feeling completely powerless.

Outcome: Father gets home after surgery, feels better for about a week. Gets really ill out of nowhere, visits his doctor, doctor sends him home („immediate effects of surgery“), he had to walk home kilometres during a thunderstorm under his condition.

A few days later, I get back from school, see the ambulance in front of our home and immediately knew what time it was. Last time seeing my dad. An image that haunts me to this day.

Father needs oxygen, doctors STILL WAVING AWAY OUR WORRIES.

How does this story go on? Well, he gets to the hospital that ordered the surgery.
WITHOUT SURVEILLANCE.

They call us the next day to tell us that he fell into a coma, discovered by the morning nurse, hours too late. They discover a brainstem infarction by MRT.

A few months later, he dies (RIP) in a special clinic due to the undiagnosed sepsis he acquired during surgery.

I talk to my mother, we decide to gather all the records, his death should not be in vain. We went to a medical lawyer, he was shocked.

I wrestled exams in school and the battle with the local medical association by 20.

Result: case gets closed by the „independent“ expert with eloquent bullshit bingo of why they could not help. We got nothing, not eben a sorry from the doc who treated my father for years. Doctors went away without the smallest consequence.

We needed to pay for the funeral, which disrupted our savings.

Winter never felt so fucking DARK.

Fast forward to the present, I got my degree, motivated by the thoughts of my Dad. Went in with my girlfriend, been working for a few years, battled and defeated disease, lived HAPPY and „normal“ for about 7 years.

And then COVID happens, people‘s worst instincts come to the surface. 

Colleagues at work completely ignoring advice, casually talking of infecting others to get at the boss or CoNsPiRaCy. 

I get constantly attacked by my supervisors for following the rules in order to protect myself due to my mental health history. My mask depresses my colleagues, I treat them unfairly etc.

COVID won‘t stop, people get Wiese and more aggressive in their recklessness. My dog dies, stress at work unbelievable. My anxiety gets the best of me. Panic attacks worse than ever before, a constant fear of impending doom. Therapists are crowded to hell, I finally get to visit one, they say I should go to a day clinic. Girlfriend calms me down, I decide to go to get better.

New patients get tested via PCR. Supervisors priding themselves on taking COVID seriously, claiming to send away positive patients. Calming down me and other patients, saying they are safe for COVID-related anxiety disorders.

The results get back a few days later, Nobody gets called out, everything seems fine, I finally feel better and start to trust people again. 

Well, remember POWERLESSNESS? It is back. A nurse acts awkward and it slips out that one of the new patients is ineed positive. Do you think he isolates himself or supervisors would act on their promises? Nah. He is allowed to participate in hour-long group settings visited by long COVID patients.

I decide to call out the doctors, they do.not.give.a.fuck. People wearing masks can not be infected they say. Ignoring that people need to eat and drink with a positive dude casually taking off his mask in close proximity.

My trust approaching below zero, I decide to leave this „facility“, cutting myself short of a desperately needed therapy. What has happened to this world?

Any advice? Thoughts? Kind words?Please.