Fragmented Echoes: Journals and Correspondences of a Patient without Importance

In this collection, each entry is a battle cry against a system that has repeatedly dehumanized and neglected me. These pages chronicle a life defined by relentless pain, broken promises, and breaches of trust—all while the institutions meant to heal subject me to bureaucratic indifference and cruelty.

Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) is a little-known, relentlessly debilitating condition that robs its sufferers not only of physical comfort but often of their dignity, independence, and hope. For over eight years, I have navigated the treacherous landscape of medical neglect, administrative errors, and relentless financial burdens—a journey that exposes the human cost of systemic indifference. This article recounts my experience with a series of missteps by institutions charged with care, from bogus hospital visits to bureaucratic mishandling of my private details, and the mounting expenses that now threaten to drown me.

Diary Entry – 14 March 2017

I still remember the day I first sought help at MockingSpam Hospital—a name that has since become synonymous with betrayal rather than solace. I arrived in excruciating back pain, unable to pass urine or bowels. An x‑ray reduced my agony to a set of cold numbers: a 10% loss of vertebral body height at T1 and a 5% loss at L1. After that brief encounter, I was discharged with the callous instruction, “Come back if things get worse.”

In that sterile corridor, my suffering was depersonalized—a human story diminished to meaningless statistics. That day marked the beginning of a long, painful journey, where every cry for help risked being ignored by those entrusted to care.

Diary Entry – 17 March 2017

After a night steeped in restless anxiety and physical torment, I found myself back in the hospital. Still unable to pass urine, I was told that I required an MRI and was directed to Verona Manly Hospital. The promise of a swift, easy process soon disintegrated into a living nightmare.

Around 7:30 pm, in a cold and indifferent waiting bay, I sat exposed and utterly vulnerable. A catheter hung painfully from my body while staff, visitors, and fellow patients streamed by without a second glance. When my tears finally overwhelmed me, a heartless nurse snapped at me, insisting I keep my mask on—even as old, traumatic memories surged. Her curt threat to cease treatment if I did not comply deepened my panic and disorientation.

For nearly an hour, I pleaded for someone to fix the mishandled, half-displaced catheter. Only fleeting compassion came from a nurse named Clare—an act of care that barely managed to ease both the physical torment and the crushing emotional neglect that would haunt me long after that night.

Email Correspondence – Service Feedback

Subject: Disappointment with Service

Date: 2 April 2017

Good afternoon,

To be completely honest, I detested this service and found it utterly unhelpful. I suffer from crippling anxiety that flares during impersonal phone interactions—a scenario that magnifies my distress when I am already in agony. Being forced to articulate my suffering over the phone, to explain my condition with such detachment, only compounded my pain. Today, I bear the physical evidence of that neglect—I can no longer close my fist properly, a constant, painful reminder of the day my dignity was trampled upon.

Verona Manly Hospital’s approach deepened my despair and further eroded a spirit that was once resilient. I hope that whoever reads this message reflects on the true meaning of compassion in care.

Regards,

Patient without Importance

Diary Entry – 28 April 2017

Amid the relentless turmoil, today I experienced a small yet profound gesture of kindness. During an MRI appointment—while my CRPS screamed from every nerve and the bitter cold amplified my pain—three kind souls, whose names remain unknown to me, took the time to offer genuine support. Their compassionate presence transformed a clinical nightmare into a sliver of human solace.

Even though every minute of the procedure tested my fragile endurance, those moments of care allowed me to feel seen and valued. In a place where indifference is the norm, that brief kindness reminded me that hope can exist—even if only in unexpected corners.

Diary Entry – 12 June 2017

Since the injury in 2017 irrevocably altered my life, I have been forced into a state of perpetual survival—never truly living, only struggling to endure each day. Every hour is a battle against pain, whether it’s the sudden, crippling spasms that seize my foot, leg, knee, thigh, and lower back or the impossible challenge of performing even routine tasks:

Cold: The biting shock of winter sends jarring waves of agony through my body.

Uneven Surfaces: Grass, sand, or gravel transform every step into a perilous ordeal.

Simple Acts: Putting on socks or shoes, taking a bath, or even sitting quietly intensifies every ache.

Intimacy: What once brought connection now triggers spasms and burning discomfort.

Being unable to work has ruined my mental health, stripped me of financial stability, and deprived me of the care and strength training that once sustained my independence. When I gaze into the mirror now, all I see is a ghost—a shadow of the vibrant person I once was, abandoned by a system that professes compassion yet consistently leaves me to suffer.

Email Correspondence – Formal Complaint Regarding Privacy Breaches

Subject: Formal Complaint – Breaches of Patient Confidentiality

Date: 5 July 2017

Good afternoon,

I am formally registering a complaint. I am seething with anger and profound disappointment at the breaches and mismanagement that have been allowed within our hospital system. Recently, I discovered that my personal details have been altered without my consent. I first learned of this when Verona Manly Hospital began sending mail addressed not to me but to someone falsely marked as my next of kin.

Shortly after, I received correspondence indicating that the erroneous changes originated from MockingSpam Hospital. I have no recollection of ever being there; my only memory is of the care I received at Coral Shore Hospital. At that time, I was in no state to complete paperwork—my breathing was shallow, my blood pressure dangerously low, and I endured over ten hours of relentless vomiting. Under no circumstance was I capable of authorizing any changes to my personal records, yet someone did so without my consent. This violation is not only unethical—it is illegal.

I demand an immediate and thorough investigation into these breaches, along with clear accountability for how my confidential information was manipulated without my knowledge. As a patient, I deserve—indeed, I demand—to know what measures will be taken to rectify this gross infringement on my privacy.

Regards,

Patient without Importance

Exhibit B: Government Correspondence

Another piece of correspondence regarding my legal proceedings read as follows:

“Thank you for your email of 15 July 2024 to the Prime Minister, the Hon Antonia Sneezy MP, regarding your legal proceedings. Your correspondence has been referred to the Attorney-General, the Hon Clark Driedpuss KC MP, who has requested that the Attorney-General’s Department respond on his behalf.

I acknowledge your deep concern regarding the mishandling of your legal matter by your former employer, their insurance company, and other involved parties. I understand the distress this has caused you.

The New Holland Government is committed to ensuring that federal courts operate as efficiently as possible.

It is essential to our New Holland system of government that our courts remain independent and free from executive interference. Consequently, each federal court is responsible for its own operation and management. For this reason, it would not be appropriate for either the Attorney-General, as the First Law Officer, or the Attorney-General’s Department, to comment further on your proceedings.

It is unclear whether your proceedings are in a federal court or in a state or territory court. The Commonwealth Attorney-General holds portfolio responsibility for the federal judiciary. Should your proceedings reside in a state or territory court, you may wish to contact the respective Attorney-General for further guidance.

The regulation of the legal profession is ultimately governed by state and territory governments and their respective law societies. If you have concerns regarding the conduct of a legal practitioner in Western New Holland, you may address your complaint to the Legal Practitioners Complaints Committee of the Western New Holland Legal Practice Board.”

The dismissive, deflected tone of this response only compounds my isolation and deepens my suffering.

Diary Entry – Financial Desperation and the Weight of Incurable Costs

I spend countless nights wrestling with a mounting tide of expenses—expenses that are calculated to be far beyond what I can ever muster. The numbers are staggering; each item a new weight crushing my already fragile spirit:

Alternative Therapies and Treatments: $10,000 a year

Specialized Clothing and Footwear: $5,000

Legal and Administrative Costs: $25,000, and still ongoing as are the following;

Legal Representation and Advocacy Fees: $50,000

Documentation and Medical Records: $5,000

Additional Medical Treatments and Surgeries: $35,000

Ongoing and Future Care Needs;

Future Medical Expenses and Care: $100,000

Long-Term Support Services: $75,000

I am fighting to keep my head above these drowning waters. Every day, the weight of these costs—both real and emotional—threatens to pull me under. I have reached a point where I have begged for an end to this relentless pain and suffering, for relief from the hopelessness that pervades every waking moment. The constant financial strain is not just a number on paper; it is a vivid, daily reminder of how little support I have, and how deeply this system has failed me.

Open Letter – Declaration of the Impact of CRPS and My Rights

Good morning,

I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to bring to your attention important information that I believe is crucial in understanding my case. I want to provide you with a deeper insight into my condition, Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS), and how it affects every aspect of my life—including my mental state.

I have spent years enduring this chronic pain condition. CRPS is far more than a physical ailment; it is a relentless invasion that affects my mental, emotional, spiritual, and financial well-being. The constant pain, severe limitations, and overwhelming restrictions cause devastating mental health issues—fuelling frustration, anxiety, depression, and even suicidal thoughts.

Living with an invisible disability like CRPS is incredibly challenging. Every split second of the day is marred by pain—a reality that those unfamiliar with the condition cannot begin to understand. My emotional, spiritual, and mental states are inextricably linked with my physical pain. The limitations I face exacerbate my distress and hinder any semblance of a normal life. My financial situation, my ability to maintain a home, to eat regularly, and even to perform basic tasks have been stripped away. My independence, identity, and purpose have been stolen—leaving behind an existence that is nothing short of a personal hell. I have faced discrimination, neglect from medical professionals, employment challenges, and even homelessness.

I still do not know how I am supposed to reconcile the fact that an institution’s negligence ended my vibrant life at 26, and now at 34, I am trapped in this unending cycle of pain. While others around me live happy, healthy lives—with secure homes and abundant support—I am left to suffer in a reality that seems deliberately constructed to break me.

At one time, I was full of life—I ran 3 km every morning, spent hours in the gym, practiced yoga religiously, and maintained a full-time job while saving to travel and build a home. At 26, I was a happy girl with endless possibilities. Now, at 34, the happiness has been replaced by agony, and I sometimes find myself wishing for a reckoning, for those responsible to face the consequences of their indifference.

I know the guidelines on assisted dying, and under certain technicalities, I fall within the approved group. To sentence me to a life of poverty, pain, anguish, and torture is, in my eyes, the most inhumane punishment one could impose. I have rights—basic human rights—and just because this is a legal case does not mean those rights can be violated.

My life is gone. I have tried to end it many times and have been hospitalized repeatedly. There is nothing worse than the hollowness of failing at failing—even with CRPS. Before this nightmare, I was an accomplished community healthcare provider, and I witnessed firsthand how patients are silenced and mistreated. Now, I am dragged through a never-ending court battle that has left me questioning whether any organization should have the power to impact a person’s life so negatively, with no statute of limitations in sight.

I refuse to allow any legal or medical practitioner outside of my specialist team to abuse me—mentally, physically, or emotionally—any longer. People who cannot imagine my pain should not have the right to dictate my rights and wishes.

Yours sincerely,

Patient without Importance

Final Journal Entry – 28 December 2017

Today, as I close this chapter of endless anguish and betrayal, I give up on the Western way—the cold, calculated system that claims to heal yet only hurls lies and deceit my way. This is a cherry-picked place of contradictions, one that creates more problems than it purports to solve, only to turn its back when help is most desperately needed.

I feel lost—like a ghost tethered to a gas lighting ex-boyfriend I can never unanchor from—a persistent echo of dismissal and neglect. My pain will live on, etched into every scar and every sleepless night, a silent testament to the failures of institutions that have abandoned me.

Fervently, I hope that those who sow such cruelty will someday reap the consequences of their actions. But I refuse to let a system that has abandoned me dictate my destiny. I will try to be my own doctor. I will care for myself in a way that this country—New Holland—has failed to do. The time has come to reclaim my body, my mind, and my spirit without bending to the whims of an unsympathetic establishment.

I am Patient without Importance—and I am no longer powerless. I choose to chart my own course, one where I prioritize my well-being above the hollow promises and bureaucratic charades of a broken system. This final entry is not an admission of defeat; it is the beginning of self-reliance and genuine healing, even if I must forge that path alone.

Every sentence here is a testament to resilience, a demand for genuine compassion, and a defiant call for systemic reform. May these echoes reach those willing to listen and ignite the heartfelt change that New Holland so desperately needs.

This submission is not merely a record of pain—it is an appeal for understanding and a rallying cry for justice. My story matters, and I will no longer be silenced by a system that refuses to see me as fully human.