Karin Grace Goddard

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Very professionnal !

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Lynn Carter

I unfortunately saw Karin Goddard in 2018 at the Montreal Hospital. After being there for one month, because she’d only seen me twice, I told her that Dr. Carl Rogers in 1967 determined that the therapeutic relationship was the greatest determinant of the client’s outcome. When I left her office, I saw her talk to a nurse named Valerie. Valerie and several other nurses came into my hospital room and held me down on the floor. Valerie purposely poked the needle as hard as possible in my left arm, claiming she couldn’t get the vein, even though my veins are large enough. Then, where I prefer not to have blood taken due to three previous fractures on my right arm, Valerie poked as hard as she could to finally fill several vials of blood to test only things related to my diet. The report came back that I had enough protein, etc. in my diet. When I went in there they took all my clothes and belongings. I had to use my fingers to comb my hair. There were no pants, so I had to make some out of one housecoat to wear under another housecoat. They refused to give me my runners and said I had to join in activities like walking/dancing down the corridors. After being in there for two months I had to pay a podiatrist $880 of which my benefit plan covered $200. Finally, to be released from there I wrote an honest, bad review of Dr. Steiner, who I also saw. Then I purposely told a social worker I had done that. Dr. Steiner called me into his office, told me that he didn’t mind that I’d written a bad review and that I was required to see the resident doctor because it is a teaching hospital. On the way out of his office, Dr. Steiner took his key and banged it several times, saying angrily, “I don’t like it when people write bad reviews of me.” Later, when I finally was released from that horrible hospital, I saw Dr. Marie Saint-Laurent who did blood levels and decreased one medicine considerably. However, whenever I started to mention how terrible I was treated in that hospital, Dr. Saint-Laurent wouldn’t let me explain and, would say, “Why are you coming in here saying this to me?” As some sort of punishment, she would double the second medicine. She wouldn’t let me explain about the deplorable conditions, like having to clean the vomit in my bathroom in my my room, about the fruit flies everywhere in my room that they claimed were from a research lab in the floor above, the women with whom I shared the room who snored, the window on my door, where people could see me getting dressed, there being no place to put things in the bathroom while taking a shower, a nurse named Lynn saying I deserved to be in my room because I wanted my dental floss, how they eventually would only give me a 6 inch piece of dental floss at a time, about how they would only allow smokers to go outside the hospital who would come back wreaking of contaminants that would make me feel sick and the nurses who also smoked could care less), about the scary patients who told me they liked it much better there than when they were in prison, about the terrible meals with lots of carbohydrates and barely any protein or vegetables and no fresh fruit. I wonder whether the psychiatrists connected to the Montreal/McGill hospital are in some sort of old boys/girls club.

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