You shag one lousy sheep!

A man goes into a pub in a small town and, for whatever reason, gets introduced to the clientele. There’s Farmer Jack, Barman Jim, Maurice “Dancer” and Sheep shagger John. After a few pints, the visitor’s curiosity gets the better of him and he asks John what’s with the nickname.

“See this pub?” asks John, “I built it, but they don’t call me Pub builder John? I’m the local doctor, I saved Barman Jim’s life once when he choked on a peanut, but they don’t call me Lifesaver John. Every year, I supply a huge Christmas tree for the village green, but the don’t call me Christmas Tree John.

“But you shag one lousy sheep…”

Why am I reminded of this?

I worked for 13 years as a NHS Dentist in Briton FerryWest Glamorgan, zoom in and look between MANSEL STREET and HOO STREET off NEATH ROAD. My practice was the 3rd house , on Neath Road, from Mansel street. Number 203.

I worked from.8.30 to 17.30 Mon to Friday and 08.00 to 13.30 on  Saturdays. I did “home visits” to the elderly and infirm in and around the ‘Ferry, Neath, Baglan and even up as far as Glyn neath I was 99.99% NHS. I had a Dental Laboratory on the 1st floor and he made Dentures and crowns for my patients and two other Practices. Some week days I worked until 19.00 hrs and Saturday mornings were usually chaotic and I worked up till 17.00 on many occasions. The record number of patients I saw one Saturday was 51 For a time in the early 90’s I saw a 12 seater bus of people that came from READING as one patient moved there, could not get a NHS Dentist and organised a trip once a month to see me. I organised a deal with my Local pub for cheap meals on production of my, signed, appointment card and joined “the patients” for a pint or six when I had finished seeing them. Only lasted about 2-3 months due to the logistics problems ie 3 hours on the M4 to get to me, but it was good at the time.

The ONLY private work I did was for British Steel , as it was called then, in Port Talbot and saw, anytime 7 days a week, sailors, from the iron ore ships that docked in Port Talbot Docks, and had toothache. They agreed that they would NOT call me at night because I was the only dentist in the Practice.

On the day my mum died I discovered that my wife was having an affair and I was forced out of the marital home 4 months later on Tuesday March 1st 1994. My problems. The CSA attacked me thanks to crap advice from my Solicitor and I got telephone calls from a Mr Jared Bradley pretending to be my friend in order to bypass my receptionist. I was paying my wife £500 pcm by standing order AND paying a mortgage on the familial home at the time. AND STILL the CSA hammered me.

Then in late October early November 1997 The ‘Ferry got flooded and my practice was closed for 3 months.

I went and saw Dr A in 1995, with stress and over the next 3 years  saw one psychiatrist that said I had no signs of ANY Mental Illness but was stressed. She told me to walk out the practice and leave my patients. My reply is unprintable and I slammed her door on the way out. I also saw  a Mr Alan Williams, as a counsellor and we had “silent ” appointments as he NEVER spoke to me as he expected me to talk about stuff. For fucks sake HE KNEW THE PROBLEMS so what the fuck was I supposed to do. Dr A put me on “beta blockers” for a while, for some reason. I soon stopped taking them.

I reopened the Practice in January 1998 and spent time REBUILDING the damned practice from scratch

I saw a private psychiatrist, ARRANGED BY Dr A , but denied by HIM, in the NHS Complaint Service twice at her home overlooking Swansea bay. I do not remember the detail of the appointments apart from I had to drink tea which I hate as they has no coffee. We sat in her garage.

I received, by post the Medical Opinion and Compliment slip at the same time as  a letter from the adulterous wife. I was made to go to hospital with many assurances THAT MY PRACTICE WOULD BE LOOKED AFTER. I stupidly believed the Doctor as I had NO REASON to believe that, as has since turned out, that ANYONE WOULD MAKE UP THAT I WAS A HIGH RISK SUICIDE. It scared me. Were they right??? How did they know and work THAT out, thought !?

SHIT I MUST BE ILL.

Then all this happened and Dr A said ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO ME.My sister Dr KE James said Dr A meant well when all this happened. The CSA continued to assault me and eventually put a Deductions of Earnings order on me for £500 because my Bank had foreclosed and were repossessing my Practice. The CSA continued to hound me until 2002.

I received THIS LETTER from the Heath House Priory Hospital in 1999 which shows that  NOT EVEN THE HOSPITAL I WAS SENT TO  June 11th 1998 KNEW I WAS RETIRED.

Still Dr A kept quiet www.mad-dentist.co.uk

The years roll on through many Doctors NOT LISTENING TO ME and then following a “misdiagnosed” heart condition I go to see Dr K and get sent to the Mental Unit as a HIGH RISK SUICIDE.

Then comes the blood test and I go to see YET ANOTHER BLOODY DOCTOR for a repeat test and there on the screen in front of me , in his surgery, my name and address CLEARLY VISIBLE was:

MENTAL PATIENT

Yet there also exist in my Medical notes  at least 3 letters from Psychiatrists that say “I HAVE NO MENTAL PROBLEMS, I need answers and I am depressed. DEPRESSED!

Dr A is exemplary, yet because of his misdiagnosis, also in my notes is a letter from a Mr DH Simpson of the Independent Review THAT I HAVE NO DIAGNOSIS OF ANY ILLNESS sufficient to warrant my hospitalisation.

NO DIAGNOSIS = NO ILLNESS …. yet…….

The Doctor, Dr L, asked if I was my sister’s brother and said some things cannot be resolved and it is time I moved on. I told him I have NO WISH TO BE ON THIS PLANET and will continue to get resolution or DIE. He shrugged and then looked intently at me. Dr A is his friend. I also saw Dr K as I waited and she stared intently at me for a while or so I thought. I stared STRAIGHT into her eyes, expressionless. Dr L told me to stop Rampiril

I had the new blood test, stopped the Rampiril  (side effect is release of Potassium ions) and had no telephone call from the hospital last night so I assume all now is OK.

SO I “shag one sheep”, ie go to a doctor who says I am a suicide case yet also says

compliments slip at the same time.

I was a National Health Dentist in Briton Ferry for 13 years and Dr A lies and says I am  a mental case and that is what I am stuck with.

A LIE.

So I have never touched a sheep except on a plate with mint sauce or in a Kebab. And I went to a Doctor with stress and got labelled as a Mental patient ……for life

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One Response to “You shag one lousy sheep!”

  1. Mandy Says:

    My favourite book is called a confederacy of dunces. The ‘professionals’ (I have another word for them) that you have seen have done you no favours and would fit well with other characters in that book. If you haven’t read it, please do, it is a hoot.

    The CSA seem to hit the willing parents very harshly whilst ignoring the real culprits who never pay a penny in maintenance.

    My father’s shrink is slightly useful in that he has started (but only slightly) to listen to my father but still has him on high doses of a medication that I believe are doing more damage than good and this is in spite of concerns both Dad and I have raised. Shrinks are deluded that these medications are all that and in fact I question their abilities to prescribe the right doses. In fact I question their ability to question what the tablets are doing to people.

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