Trying to 'wake up' my GP: Stage 1

After 4 years, and in his new paradigm, I made an appointment to see my GP. What I discovered was kinda scary tbh.

Image credit National Cancer Institute via Unsplash

It had been more than four years since I was here. My local GP’s surgery. That was before the whole world shifted on its axis. My motivation for making an appointment was primarily (admittedly, maybe morbid?) curiosity: what was it like in my local GP’s surgery in this new dystopian era? I’m a sociologist, after all, and this is important fieldwork.

Last week, inspired by one of the speeches I heard at the New Zealand Doctors Speaking Out with Science (NZDSOS) Conference last year, I finally had an appointment with my GP. Well actually, I didn’t get to see the GP I was previously registered with, turns out he is on extended leave…I wonder why? I say ‘previously’ because as I discovered when making the appointment (many weeks ago, because they were ‘so busy’), I was “knocked off” the surgery’s system, because I hadn’t (needed or) seen any of their healthcare staff since BC (Before Covid). So during my waiting room experience, I had to complete a ‘re-registration’ form (more on that at the end of this post).

The commercialisation of healthcare: the PPP

First, a reminder to my UK readers, Kiwis have to pay for their GP clinic services. Pathology like blood tests, scans etc are also carried out by privately-run commercial companies, benefitting from extensive Government funding. I’ve written a lot about these Public Private Partnerships before. And it’s getting worse.

There’s also the issue of the financial incentives provided to these clinics for jabbing people - for some pharmacies, especially those attached to hospitals, this added-up to $millions. My own GP surgery received over $300k from Government for over 8000 Pfizer injection doses to their community.

Because my curiosity would cost me >$50, I decided to make the most of the visit and requested it to include a very minor clinical procedure (non-essential) and a blood test to provide a baseline idea of Vit D levels etc.

Step-by-step, breaking the spell

The GP I saw is also British by birth, so it wasn’t difficult to build rapport with her (as reachingpeople.net stress the importance of). In fact, I’d seen her many years ago when I first arrived in NZ (although couldn’t remember much about those busy times when I was still on that toxic academic treadmill). Interestingly, she didn’t ask me anything about my health, weight, or offer to take my blood-pressure (things I took for granted in those ‘olden days’). Next, I had to overcome some barriers she placed in front of me about the minor procedure I had requested: “Yes, I definitely DO want it. No, I don’t want any medication, thanks”). Urgh.

Minor procedure completed, I ask for the blood test authorisation I need (in order to pay for the private test in the lab next-door). Another barrier “There’s no point in testing for Vit D” she says, “why would you want to waste your money?” I repeat my request with a smile, and she reluctantly agrees and hands me the authorisation she prints off (but not a virtual form?).

If I had been a less-confident person, I would already be headed home, I thought, frustrated and confused as to why none of my objectives had been achieved.

Now she’s keen to get me gone, there are lots of people waiting outside and she was already running late. But I’ve already explained to her there’s three things on my list: “We’re only allowed two items per consultation” she tells me. But I insist:

“I want to pose a quick ‘thought experiment’” I explain (we’re both standing now, I notice we’re about the same height and age) whilst making a conscious effort to smile: “If I was to ask you for a Covid19 ‘vaccine’, what would you say?”

There was a few very awkward seconds. I’ve become accustomed to these spaces in time, these extended silences that are evidence of something profoundly changing in our universe. Strangely, it’s simultaneously unsettling and yet comforting. I wait.

I wish I had a secret internal camera. If only I could capture in words, the look in the eyes, the expression on the face - these moments when time seems suspended.

These are the moments when these victims of the propaganda realise that elephant is there, in the room with us. Like the baby who thinks that closing his eyes means that others can’t see him. Like those German women in the photo I wrote about here (click below), in denial that those death camps existed, even when they were within a mile of their homes; even when the stench of burning bodies enveloped clothes hanging on their washing-lines.

But in that split second, they see it, and yet to protect themselves from the horrors of reality, they try to imagine a world where the elephant isn’t there. We’ve all been there too. But we can’t go back.

Terror, Shock, Fear, Nervousness, Anxiety, Defensiveness, Curiosity … and more, all mixed up.

I notice her face goes red with embarrassment. ‘Poor woman’, I think. She stammers some Um’s and Uh’s very awkwardly, she looks around her orderly office, I see her framed family photos, kids smiling, on her desk. Patiently, I wait. Is it my imagination, or is that a look of guilt? She robotically parrots the script:

“I’d have to give you the pros and cons”.

That look. I know, she knows.

She knows that I know.

I politely and with a smile, tell her that’s not necessary, thanks. Taking a further chance that I may get asked to leave, I then ask her whether she knows about the extent of the censorship and propaganda over the past four years.

Again, a longer-than-comfortable pause, the anxiousness in body-language, then:

“What do you mean?”

I’m prepared for this. These people are lost at sea. I offer her the printed copy of

J.R.Bruning

’s recent article ‘The Re-Education of New Zealand Doctors” (also published by the Brownstone Institute). It outlines the evidence from Official Information Act (OIA) responses, of ways that dissenting doctors were gagged after being threatened with being de-registered for standing-up for medical ethics and informed consent. The same Corporate Playbook of propaganda and the silencing of dissent witnessed across the world during the covid era.

My GP struggled with her cognitive dissonance. Physically she tensed up and stepped back away from me. Her hand even went up as if I was going to attack her with these pieces of paper. Truth hurts. She couldn’t articulate one proper sentence, literally in the space of five minutes she had turned from a confident, competent, smiling, intelligent woman, to a bumbling fool.

I remained standing where I was. I wait. Now she tried a different escape tactic, she dismissed the article and clumsily claimed she had already read it. Of course she hadn’t. I asked her ‘was she sure?’ maybe look at the title and author carefully, holding it out, calmly.

It was physically painful for her, but she stepped forward and looked at the article - and I gave it to her. She admitted she hadn’t read it and didn’t know the author. Bingo.

“I know you care about your patients and will be open-minded enough to read it.” I suggested to her, as I made for the door. No doubt she was relieved. As I was. I suggested I would make another appointment to come back to discuss the contents of the article. Maybe I will.

I was glad to leave that clinic. Outside the sun was shining and the park across the road has some wonderful old trees; I could sit in their warm shade and reflect on what I’d just experienced. Beside me was a discarded wrist band from a patient who had been admitted as an emergency, I calculated his age: 42. I said a quick prayer he was OK.

Photo by Josephine Baran on Unsplash

The Waiting Room

The context in the waiting room before I went into my appointment was also a situation I don’t want to repeat. Posters all around the area reminded us to ‘stay home’ and ‘take a covid test’ if needed. I saw no QR codes, though. Phew. The receptionist was new and untrained - maybe because she was not competent enough to be in front of patients needing urgent help, she was obstructive and even passive-aggressive towards me. The Perspex screen that separated us didn’t help the situation. Why was a large healthcare centre like this, in a busy town, not fully staffed? Lots of people were waiting and those patients wanting new appointments were repeatedly told it was “impossible for over a month”. I listened as two emergency patients (one on the phone and one face-to-face) were directed to the hospital, as ‘our GPs can’t cope’.

One Asian father came in with his toddler son for an urgent appointment. He wore a blue surgical mask and together with his strong foreign accent, the receptionist struggled to understand his dilemma. All around me the atmosphere was of fear, frustration and anxiety.

Data-harvesting for AI

The re-registration form I was asked to complete because I had not attended the GP surgery for a few years, was an interesting insight into the capture of NZ healthcare. This is probably the content for another post, but here’s a teaser:

I wonder why “Anyone 16 years and over must complete and sign their own enrolment form” when children as young as 12 years old were coerced into taking the experimental injections by so-called healthcare professionals who insisted no parental consent was required.

I learned that Pinnacle is another health/IT company, clearly interested in database development which only means one thing: metadata. I asked the receptionist what their definition was of “authorised healthcare professionals” and “external healthcare professionals” on the form and whether these included potential impact investors seeking personal data for AI development. Not surprisingly, I got that zombie look. I will follow this up. I note that the board of Pinnacle includes some interesting individuals with investment banking, accounting and business ventures. For instance, Chair of Pinnacle Inc, Mark Ingle, is also Chair of six other private companies, including Virscient, a IT, Wifi, bluetooth, surveillance and telematics company which has favourable access to NZ Government contracts, meaning it doesn’t have to go through the usual tender process. How convenient.

I’ll return to this another day.

There was no request for details of current health and well-being on the form (bearing in mind this was for patients who had been AWOL for more than two years). The only thing they wanted to know was my smoking habits and employer. No mention of the dreaded covid and associated ‘safe and effective’ at all….This seems strange?

Final thoughts

Will my GP read the article I gave her, take it home and mull it over with a glass of wine? Or will her propagandised-mind force her to throw it in the bin and pretend it doesn’t exist? It must be hard to do that, knowing that I will be back, and/or another of her patients (or fellow staff members) may ask her the same questions soon.

On my exit from the surgery, I caught the eye of another female staff member, who smiled and I hoped we shared an understanding. I wonder how many others overcoming these challenging conversations, everyday.

Don’t give up. It’s empowering to confront this wall of artificial silence. At least my GP saw the title and the author and heard my words. All we can do is chip, chip, chip away at the cognitive dissonance, the cracks will widen and the reality eventually must be revealed.

For some people, it’s only with our help that their awakening process can, at last, begin.

Have you had a conversation similar to mine with your doctor or other healthcare professional you want to share? please do….