& as our 2 faced country prepares their vigils for the young life murdered & hear the cries of ‘violence against women & girls isn’t acceptable anytime or anywhere’ : i wonder, will we ever really learn? will we ever really really give a shit about the violence perpetrated against women & children in our little country? will we give a shit enough, to actually do something about it? because this shit is Not new & is an epidemic.

but one we seem to tolerate, until it happens where we can’t just ditch that shit so no-one else will ever see it.




they say …

you’ve named ‘casual racism’: ‘light hearted banter’.

tell me, is that the same as light hearted rape?

kpm ©



sensitive claims debacle

Found these in my troll through my posts. It was a super stressful time and I’d just like to say I’m still fucken waiting for ACC to finish processing the next part of my claim.

Yes, still waiting as @ february 2019.

But I’m here. Trying to be patient. On a cool $45 per week. Thats right folks, its gone up by $10.

Somedays it completely fucks Me that my income is not really an income and some overpaid cunt sitting in an office is still processing my shit so I can get an actual income.

And I wait.

Accident Compensation Corporation

I have had a Sensitive Claim with this corporation since the early 90s.

Every 5 years it ‘was’ their policy to send Sensitive Claims to be ‘reviewed’. This involved assessment through impairment questions given by a psychologist. All questions were generalized, distasteful and reasonably distressing. But it also meant that any ‘incidents’ or issues were recorded and noted and could be dealt with immediately.

From ACCs end, the 5-year review had more to do with the level of compensation you received due to your permanent impairment score, rather than their interest in your general well-being.

In the early 2000s the ‘reviewer’ changed from a psychologist to an ACC accredited GP.

I had my last recorded assessment in 2004. At this time, I was noted as being in the lowest impairment bracket, thus receiving the lowest percentage of compensation.

I was not recalled for any other assessments or reassessments.

In 2008 my physical health started to decline; by 2011 I was medically discharged from my place of employment. In 2014 I was accurately diagnosed with PTSD. By this time, I was chronic and unable to leave the house.

I contacted ACC for entitled counselling in approximately 2012, and accessed this thereafter. I have been battling with them regarding diagnosis, treatment and compensation since then.

This has included ‘waiting times’ of years rather than months or weeks.

It includes having to pay for treatment that hasn’t work out of funds that are non-existent.

It includes being ‘actively ignored’.

According to ACCs process (which has never officially changed), I should have been reassessed in 2009 and my ‘condition’ should also have been picked up at that stage. Treatment should have begun then.

My concern is that ACC has changed its ‘goal posts’ without informing the client. Those changes leave its clients hindered and at a disadvantage and furthered impaired in the process.

Not only do I believe this to be unfair, I believe it is a breach of their Duty of Care.

General Practitioners NZ.

I had a GP that was awesome. She left her practice about 10 years ago. By default, my GP became another one that was in the same Medical Centre as her.

To find a new GP is near impossible. The waiting lists for ‘new intakes’ are years long and the ‘on call’ or emergency ones are quick and nasty.

I have my name down for a new GP, and have been waiting for a place with him for nearly 5 years.

So I remain with the GP I have.

He is great when it comes to writing prescriptions and a friendly chat.

As for timeframes and getting things done, not so much.

As far as accurate diagnosis; not so much.

I have been prescribed a string of medications for depression, anxiety, vertigo, chronic depression, insomnia, smoking, allergies and more depression.

In hindsight, they’ve all been inaccurate scripts for inaccurate illnesses.

My first and major red flag came when I was given sleeping pills (benzodiazepines) for insomnia, vertigo and depression; along with a few other tid bits. They should have been temporary, but were prescribed repeatedly for years.

Until I googled them one day and found out that this particular strain of sleeping pill should only be prescribed temporarily (not longer than 6 months) and exasperated anxiety.

When I confronted my GP, he said “You wanted them”.

What I actually wanted was help.

The second red flag came when ACC requested my file. After signing the papers, it took just over 18 months for the Medical Centre to send the file to ACC.

This held up accurate diagnosis and accurate treatment.

ACC were just as slow. It took them 12 months to let me know, after I asked, (and at that stage it was near impossible for me to talk on the phone to anyone) what the hold up was.

And now I wait for forms to be filled out by the same GP, so ACC can LOOK at reassessing my Independence Allowance. I have been waiting close to 2 months for those forms now. I have requested that they be returned so I can take them to the emergency GP and have them signed, and was told it was in my best interests to wait.

“The profession of medicine has a duty to maintain and improve the health and wellbeing of the people, and to reduce the impact of disease. Its knowledge and consciousness must be directed to these ends. The medical profession has a social contract with its community. In return for the trust patients and the community place in doctors, ethical codes are produced to guide the profession and protect patients.

  • Notes: “Doctors should ensure that information is recorded in an accurate and timely manner. “
  • Notes: “When requested or when need is apparent, doctors should provide patients with information required to enable them to receive benefits to which they may be entitled. “

My concern is how long does a GP believe is a ‘timely manner’ and what do they deem to be accurate? Is 18 months timely? Or even 2 months? Are 2 misdiagnosis accurate enough, or does it take 3 or 4?

It’s a frustrating situation to be in and I know I am not alone.

There is a great deal of faith put in a GP and for good reason. So when they don’t abide their own Code of Ethics what is a patient supposed to do?

Go to ‘The Health and Disability Commission’ apparently.

But similar to the ACC review board, the irony is painfully clear.

If you are a client of ACCs and require a GPs assistance regularly, then you are probably unwell, and vulnerable.

Why is that so difficult for these people to understand?

I have been bitching on about ACC and my GP for ages … trying to get results the most pleasant way possible.

Well, I’ve had enough … and I’ve been waiting for a while for my ‘had enough’ button to kick in … its been a bit slow; or is it disabled? …  in recent years.

Anyway, I rang the Doc again this morning … and got the same glib but apologetic reply … ‘he hasn’t finished them … it’s in your best interests to wait … sorry … ‘.

And finally … yes finally …

I said, “Actually it’s not in my best interests to wait, and quite frankly the waiting and the excuses are ridiculous. I would like the details of your formal complaint process. That complaint will also be forwarded on to The Health and Disability Commissioner.”

Well, she jumped to it.

To be fair, the reception ladies have been great, they’ve tried, well beyond their job description, to get my forms filled in and returned. God bless their sweetness lol.

So, I’ve been sitting here since 9am and I’ve just finished, at 3pm, sending off 3 formal complaints. One to the Health Centre where my doc is situated. One to The Health and Disability Commissioner. And one to good old Accident Compensation Corporation.

I may get an apology, I may not.

I may get my forms back, I probably may not.

I will continue to run with the alternative way to skin the cat since the back up forms have finally arrived!

But the satisfaction of tying them all up in bureaucratic paper work and sifting bullshit for at least 6 months … well that is reward enough for me at this stage …

mwahahahahaha ;)

kpm ©


shit got real … 1986

Bit of a painful re-read … but it is what it is, and I’m still fucking here ;)

14 if I’m not mistaken…I’m not sure why there’s so much pressure on ‘being’ better…acheiving…striving…deciding…not fucking up…at this age. 14 years of life and you know sweet fuck all, but think you know everything. And I think this is how it should be. Confidence building, learning, fucking up and learning from your mistakes, figuring out what you like and don’t, figuring out what and who you are. Instead of waiting till your 40 something :0

This is where I started my descent…well, I was aware of the descent anyways. Church and religion played a huge part of my life up until this point. Whether I liked it or not or agreed with it or not, it was engrained. Church peeps, church music, church rules…religion and all its restrictions and limitations. Its do’s and don’ts…making sure your soul was A O K just in case you got hit by a bus and ended up in front of your maker in the latter part of a day.

Btw – this was a Pentecostal movement, or religion whatever you like to call it. Christianity…the kind that didn’t believe in homosexuality, abortion, smoking, drinking, fornication, swearing…Jesus dies on a cross and raises from the dead three days later…that kind of religion. Because it was so ‘heavy’ it was hard to see the good in it all…it still is sometimes. I get that it gave peeps some kind of peace…but all I could ever see was hypocrisy and judgement. And I was probably partaking in the same ‘sin’; but really…isn’t that what 14’s all about? Having an opinion and voice and figuring our whether it’s a worthy one to have or not?

I remember having a ‘God encounter’ at about this age…a real one. And it moved my soul. So I don’t have any doubt that there is an entity that is bigger and more awesome-er than us. However my belief on where this entity resides and what they are, has changed. After this God encounter, I felt a whole heap of peace, not like I had ever felt before. And it was fucking great! I slept without nightmares for about a week. Then I became agitated again.

How is it, that someone can be ‘touched’ by God, and not see things differently? As I peered around our church, I saw a whole heap of people who were quite content with their hum drum lives…were happy with their flash cars and full pockets…and bellies…they had no need for anything else…and church was just a motion they committed once a week; like taking a daily shit. They had no need for anything else. And as far as I could tell, they obviously couldn’t read! The shit that was Biblical was not practiced at all! We used to have a huge Sunday feed at church, after service. Every Sunday. And we all ate well. You could go to the shop afterwards, and there were kids there, scraping together change, to buy bread. The church was in a crap ass neighbourhood by the way…I could write that in a move PC way, but I’m sure you get the drift…It was the neighbourhood where poverty resided on every corner; parents drank and kids wandered…that kind of place. The church had set up in that neighbourhood, so they could ‘reach the lost’. Pfft. I’m not to sure who the hell was lost actually.

So my attendance at this place started becoming somewhat of a mission to see who I could piss off and who was actually practicing their religious beliefs. I don’t think I realised what I was doing at the time, but I was pushing buttons left right and centre, to see who was really on the reals. And I managed to piss plenty of them off…they didn’t like my ‘attitude’ and told my mother I needed more ‘discipline’…that being a good spanking! But that just fuelled the fire for me. How is it that I needed twacking and they could sit on their fat asses while the ‘lost’ remained lost? Surely there were bigger concerns than my ‘rebellious, defiant and Jezebel’ attitude? Well, apparently not. After a few good ‘prayer sessions’ and ‘renouncing of demonic spirits’, which apparently came from my cultural heritage and the fact that my mother had been a fornicator in a previous existence…they thought their job was done. They could stand in front of their maker and say that they had assisted with the upbringing of the solo mothers kid.

Actually, that’s not fair…there were a few that did do what they preached…that walked the talk. One dude, taught me to drive. Poor bastard lol. He had been a skin head in a previous existence. He knew the ass end of life and didn’t take for granted anything that he was given. He was a good dude. Then there was another couple that had been drug addicts in a previous existence and decided that they would ‘follow Christ’. They were still human…good people. The guy schooled me in Bob Dylan :)…that dude was deep.

Underneath everything though, I was festering. I was angry on angry. I started to hate school. Hate dance. Hate church…more than usual…I hated feeling. I hated thinking. I hated the people I was around.

I had a couple of really good friends around this time. They were sisters and both looked like they were bred for the Aryan Nation…blonde blonde; bright blue eyes. They had a nice life. Farming girls. Horses. Mother and Father. They were good people. But they didn’t relate to what I felt. And as far as they could see, I had a good life too. Which I did, in comparison to some. I was warm, fed, went to church, lived like a Pakeha.

I was still smoking at this time but because I needed numbness I ventured off to find other things to achieve that. I found sniffing / snuffing, whatever you like to call it. I found pills. I found cheap alcohol. And if you blend all those together they make for an awesome little numbing cocktail.

It’s kind of surprising in hindsight, that I went down this pathway. I had seen my asshole Uncle ping himself up many times with poppies stripped down for the opium or other white substances. And it had always terrified me, watching him change from erratic and violent into subdued and violent…not a pretty picture. But my cocktail didn’t seem so bad I guess…so there wasn’t really a comparison for me at that time. I just wanted numbness.

I told my mother what had happened to me at 4. She cried. I was ‘prayed’ for. It didn’t do much for the overall internal picture really.

4th form was ass. I was put in the top stream Maths class, surprising to me as Maths was not my best subject. And even more surprising was that academically I was doing pretty good. The teacher however, was one of those types that liked to ridicule and belittle publicly, in the hopes that her students would somehow learn better. Myself and another brown brother lol, decided to ask the 4th form Dean, to be moved into another class, as neither of us understood what was being taught and we didn’t like the way we were being treated. So it turns out, that a percentage of brown kids, from a low socio-economic background, were required in each stream. We were the lucky two that had been picked for this particular stream. If he was to move us, it would throw out the government requirement. Pftt to that. We both walked out in the end and attended a different class. Maths for dummies!

Socially, I was floundering. I found my peers shallow and trivial. But I guess this is the age where that’s what should be practiced, in all fairness. But I didn’t fit and it was becoming more and more obvious.

I was still dancing, and dancing well…but I was struggling. I’d go to school stoned, drunk, snorted out or all of the above; just to get through the day. I wanted to explode but didn’t really understand how or why.


kpm ©