The Criminologist Has Come Home Again!

I am a proud Alaskan. It is no longer where I reside, but it is who I am, home for over thirty-five years. Being an Alaskan is not about where you live, it's about making you fiercely strong, teaching the true meaning of grit. Standing in Alaska brings you a deep understanding of your space in the world; in a way little else does. It is not a state for the weak or weary. One must be independent and confident to be able to live here; the elements, the animals, the harshness of the climate demands that of you.

No matter whether you are facing the majestic mountains, inlets or rivers, there is always the reminder that you are just one small spec in a world of magnificent. Being here embraces an understanding that the world is just so much bigger than me, a concept we should not forget right now.

Conversely, this was also the state that brought me to my knees. Now, three years after writing ‘The Criminologist Comes Home’, I am writing ‘The Criminologist Comes Home Again’.

Originally, I wrote:

‘Upon being told I was going to die, due to taking a prescription, allegedly causing the deaths of at least hundreds of women, I knew all of my strength and healing had to come from deep within myself. I was encouraged to be the first woman to bring this egregious deceit to light. I would have covered the cost of their pharmaceutical kickbacks rather than be the guinea pig for this medical group. Trying to hide their scheme, they denied my referral and records to a leading research hospital, their actions to be revealed. I self-referred. For two years, I raged so deeply in my core, there were moments I wondered how I could ever feel peace again. My medical team was hopeful I would have a year. There are moments I thought death would be a respite.’

Until today, I have felt disgusted. How could I have been so foolish to trust this doctor and not research her prescription?

I had been working a devastating case involving a six year old, breaking my rule and working with someone special to me. I kept an appointment I meant to cancel. It changed my life.

Hyperventilating and rocking in her chair this doctor shared ‘Magestro….you have cancer. I had a woman last week and another two days ago, now you. Surgery next Friday.’

After this doctor regained her composure, I was in shock, she added this would be tough year for me. No tests confirming, just the proclamation. She’d have three of us present the same way in one week’s time. I later learned there were at least hundreds. I hopped on a plane to treat at a leading research hospital and could not make it home for five years.

Everything I owned was moved, sold or given away. I have had to accept that ‘things’ aren’t important to me anymore, memories are. I said goodbye to my special pieces in my mind.

Now, eight years after leaving, I discovered this doctor is still practicing today and the prescription is still legal and being prescribed here in Alaska. There are five other states where pharmacy fills and insurance still pays this prescription; legal and available. It is my understanding it is not legal in the remaining states.

There can never be forgiveness, not because I am incapable, but because this deceit appears to be continuing. More women I know there are being diagnosed. I no longer ask for their specifics. Today, at my remote cabin in Alaska, I had a visitor; a black bear, the animal of strength and courage. A few hours later, she came back again.

Her presence resonated with me during her second visit. All around us, we are enduring loss, for varied reasons. My doctor’s unconscionable act cost me everything that I had worked for in my entire life; my home, my savings, my retirement, most of my belongings and for way too long, my joy.

It also left me with insurmountable debt. Sadly, too many people are experiencing the same for varied reasons today. Forgiveness can be challenging right now.

The bear’s visit allowed me the opportunity to recalibrate my lens; I am strong and I am courageous, like my new friend the bear. I have survived for everything important; my family, my friends, and the richness of my memories and continued adventures.

I am grateful to the bear whose visit has allowed me two things; to finally find forgiveness for myself and for the reminder of strength to embrace the challenges we are all facing now, in one way or another.

Once again, I took a warrior pose facing the blue pristine waters of Cook Inlet and the many volcanoes in my view. I am a survivor. I may just finish my dream of cabin retreats for first responders and front liners, or maybe I will not.

I came home again. It has been eight years. We are all shocked I am alive to continue to tell this story and advocate for all of us who are living their lives marginalized, for one reason or another.

Now, I do more than survive, finally, I thrive. I may just make it after all.