Face to face with my fury

For  five fury filled months I dreamt about what I’d say to this woman when I saw her again. I’d lay in bed in the cold, quiet part of the night and compose the complaint I was going to lodge with the Health Professions Council. I held her image close the better to know my enemy. She was my Wicked Witch of the West, my Nurse Ratched, my Cersei Lanaster. I seethed and ranted and held my sparkling, diamond-hard outrage close.

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