If You Had Listened: The Truth Behind the Fiction

Final Cover
A Primer:

If you dare to wander through the chilling corridors of medical madness, then “If You Had Listened” awaits you—a non-fictional medical horror that rivals the infamous Hospital of Horrors: A Menagerie of Medical Maladies, a tome unleashed upon the unsuspecting masses in the cold grip of January 2023.

Within the pages of this blood-curdling chronicle, your courage will be tested as you delve into the sinister tales that birthed Arwen’s inaugural novel. Prepare yourself for a nightmarish journey that will make your skin crawl and your heart race through the eerie hallways of hospitals.

This haunting novella immerses you in a nightmarish reality, where acts of medical sadism and iniquity unfold with a bone-chilling precision. Each tale will unravel before your horrified eyes, meticulously dissecting the macabre details of their grotesque pilgrimage through the dreaded Hospital of Horrors.

Here, you shall bear witness to episodes of unspeakable medical torture, where the delicate balance between life and death is ruthlessly toyed with. Negligence and abandonment paint a haunting portrait of despair, while the haunting specter of loneliness looms over those trapped within the hospital’s suffocating embrace.

But beware, dear reader, for the horrors do not end there. Arwen’s nightmarish tales will plunge you into the depths of terror as you experience the unthinkable—awakening amidst the operating room, a ghastly fate reserved for the most unfortunate souls. And yet, the dread does not cease, for you shall also taste the bitter essence of multiple deaths and resurrections, a twisted dance between the hereafter and the mortal realm.

Much like a surgeon meticulously unravels the intricacies of the human body, Arwen’s tales will be laid bare before you, inviting you to peer into their grotesque depths. Prepare yourself, for once you step foot into this literary abattoir, there is no turning back. “If You Had Listened” is a harrowing masterpiece that will leave you haunted, your nerves frayed, and your soul forever scarred.

“There is Nothing More We Can Do”

Prologue to: If You Had Listened
By: Arwen-Wynter Oakley

“There is nothing more we can do for you, Jazzy,” the doctor said, his voice weighed down with resignation. His use of my name spoke volumes, for we were not mere doctor and patient, but companions in a journey spanning over a decade. His eyes, once filled with hope, now harbored a profound sadness.

“I know,” I replied softly, my voice laced with weariness. “I only came because she called an ambulance, but to be honest – I think I was just post-ictal .”

“No matter,” he said, his voice tinged with compassion. “We were able to check the status of the Silent Sinus Syndrome and confirm the cerebellar tonsillar ectopia. As well…,” he paused, taking a moment to catch his breath, “as making sure your brain was still intact.”

His attempt at humor was not lost upon me. It was a tragic comedy we found ourselves entangled in, where laughter served as a balm for the wounds we couldn’t heal. I flashed him a knowing smile, acknowledging the delicate balance between hope and despair.

“Best to check, you never know with me,” I replied, my words carrying the weight of acceptance.

“If there were a more accurate statement for your chart, I don’t know of it,” he admitted, his voice trailing off into a somber silence.

Yet, the tragedy loomed over us like a great wave roaring to consume a small seaside town. We couldn’t avoid it, for there was no escape. Just as it takes nearly half a century for the King Tide to form, this wave of chronic illness had taken a solid decade and a half to gather strength on the horizon.

I found myself adrift in a sea of rare disorders and unrelenting symptoms, each day a struggle against a relentless current. The medical system in our area proved to be an inadequate lighthouse, unable to guide me towards the shores of healing. Specialists were scarce, research non-existent, and hope dwindled with each passing year.

Palliative care emerged as the stark reality, the choice thrust upon me by circumstances beyond my control. The lack of a proper medical system shackled my chances of a long life with chronic illness. So I embraced the purpose of palliation, seeking comfort rather than a futile pursuit of elusive cures.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, as I navigated the treacherous waters of my condition. The world outside remained indifferent, ignorant of the silent battles waged within my weary body. Life carried on, vibrant and bustling, but I stood on the sidelines, a spectator to my own existence.

In the absence of effective treatments, I sought solace in the small pleasures that remained within my grasp. I devoured books, their pages transporting me to distant lands where pain did not hold sway. I painted vivid strokes on canvas, unleashing the kaleidoscope of colors trapped within my mind. I savored the taste of food, relishing the fleeting moments of sensory delight.

But the truth of my fragility haunted me relentlessly. The whispers of mortality grew louder, reminding me of the finite nature of my existence. Dreams slipped through my fingers like sand, slipping away with each labored breath. The future became a mirage, an illusion that danced just out of reach.

Yet, within the boundaries of my illness, I discovered resilience. I forged connections with fellow travelers on this journey, their understanding a balm for the solitude that threatened to consume me. We shared stories, hopes, and fears, offering positivity in the collective struggle against the indifference of the medical world.

In the face of the overwhelming tide, I refused to succumb to despair. I clung to life, even as it slipped away, finding peace in the knowledge that I was not alone. Together, we carved out our own path, embracing the beauty that lay hidden within the confines of our limitations.

As the sun sets on another day, casting its warm glow upon my tired face, I find comfort in the fleeting moments of respite that palliative care affords me. The medical system may have failed to offer a lifeline, but within its cracks, I discovered the strength to endure.

In the realm of chronic illness and rare disorders, I am but a speck in a vast sea of uncertainty. The lack of available treatments in our area may hinder the prospect of a long life, but it cannot quell the indomitable spirit within. And so, I sail on, navigating the waves of pain and uncertainty, discovering safety in the beauty that lies within the smallest moments.

For as long as breath fills my lungs and the flicker of life dances within my being, I will cherish each passing day, each fleeting embrace, and each whispered word of love. The tragedy of my existence may loom like a specter, but I will face it with a resilience that defies the limitations imposed upon me.

In the twilight of my journey, I am Jazzy, a warrior of the rare, a connoisseur of pain, and a testament to the power of the human spirit. And though my path may be fraught with darkness, I will illuminate it with the light of my unwavering resolve.

For within the heart of every tragedy lies the possibility of triumph, and within the confines of chronic illness, there exists the strength to forge a life worth living, however fleeting it may be.

Thank you for taking the time to read the prologue/ primer of my next release. Please leave a comment below if you enjoyed this piece, I love constructive criticism. 💚

2 responses to “If You Had Listened: The Truth Behind the Fiction”

  1. This made me cry.

    1. It’s very sad, but very true. I cried while writing it because it is what I deal with, sadly, as you know.

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