After eight months of desperately seeking medical care through the Veterans Healthcare System—specifically the G.V. (Sonny) Montgomery VA Medical Center in Jackson, MS, and the Natchez VA Clinic—I finally secured an appointment with neurology.
By this time, my condition was critical. A disc was fully embedded in my spinal cord at C5, slightly to the right of center. The reality was terrifying—I was waking up completely paralyzed, unable to move or feel my body. My bladder was failing, and mild oxygen impairment had already been documented due to an elevated right hemidiaphragm. As time passed, more issues emerged, including complications with my liver and bladder.
Despite these alarming symptoms, the VA refused to acknowledge that my condition was linked to cervical disease. Instead, they dismissed my symptoms as mental health issues—a misjudgment that nearly cost me my life.
The Doctor Who Fought for Me
Throughout this ordeal, I found an advocate in an emergency room physician—Dr. Jo L. Harbour. She believed me when no one else did, and she fought for me. I am certain that without her, I wouldn’t be here today.
Betrayed by Neurology
At one point, due to the horrible treatment I was receiving at the VA hospital, I started seeing the head of psychiatry. My goal was simple—I needed guidance on how to communicate with providers effectively so that I could get the care I so desperately needed.
Following his advice, I went to my neurology appointment.
I walked into the small office, sat beside the neurologist’s desk, and placed a piece of paper in front of him. As the psychiatrist had suggested, I had written down all my symptoms to ensure clarity.
But instead of listening, the neurologist immediately called in his superior—Dr. Ethel S. Rose.
Dr. Rose dismissed my concerns almost instantly, insisting that my life-threatening symptoms were caused by poor “sleep hygiene.”
I pushed back. I explained that I had an education in psychology and knew for a fact that “sleep hygiene” was not the issue. I described my symptoms over and over, hoping she would finally hear me.
She refused to listen.
Instead, she accused me of “seeking a neurological diagnosis.”
As if my suffering was nothing more than an inconvenience, Dr. Rose then announced that their clinic was over for the day and that I needed to leave—because another clinic needed the space.
I refused.
I begged for someone to acknowledge what was happening to me.
Her response?
She called security and had me escorted out.
Hopeless and Helpless
As security led me toward the elevators, I ran into my psychiatrist—the very doctor who had advised me on how to communicate with neurology.
He took me back to his office, where I broke down. I told him everything. By then, I felt completely hopeless and helpless. I knew my life was in danger, but I had no idea how to get help when I was being accused of nonsense like bad sleep habits.
Eventually, I ended up back in the emergency room.
That’s where I found my human angel—Dr. Jo L. Harbour.
She listened. She fought for me. She saved my life.
Just One Chapter
I’ll leave it here for now.
This is just one chapter in a much larger story.
Thank you for bearing with me as I piece it all together and share more of the puzzle.
