The first time I saw Anasa Matthews I was impressed by her beauty and youth: tall, thin, hair in a bun, big liquid brown eyes, perfect posture, and plenty of poise. She was new to the methadone clinic in Venice. She was in charge of this clinic which had about 50 to 100 patients.
I learned she had a Master’s degree from USC. She was my counselor beginning in early 2017. She would meet with me as my counselor for about six months.
These counseling sessions were fairly uneventful. I told her about books I was reading and movies I saw. She told me about her family of 10 brothers and sisters, and how she herself was a twin. She didn’t offer very much about herself.
One day I showed up at the clinic to receive my two weeks worth of take-homes. I had been on this two-week schedule since I had transferred to the Venice Clinic from a sister clinic on Pico Boulevard. That clinic had been run by Stephanie who kept stalling me on this two-week schedule. I had earned this privilege since I began taking methadone in 1994. As a continuous patient with no dirty urine tests for at least 20 years, the clinic allowed me to come twice a month to take home two weeks worth of bottles.
On this day, August 11, 2014, Anasa called me into her office. First, she asked me to give her urine sample. I was not surprised; any time I walked in there I was prepared. I gave her my bottle. She probably checked with a thermometer to see if it was at body temperature. Then she told me she was taking away my take-home schedule for thirty days.
She pulled out a paper that the lab had sent. It showed 16 chemicals the lab had tested: codeine, cocaine. benzodiazepines, etc. It also tested for creatinine, 3.2 mg/dL. It said in small print: Possible substituted sample. Value less than 5mg./dL.
There is no “possible” in Anasa’s world. Any odditity is indication of a crime.
I was not too sure what creatinine was all about. I saw it as a supplement at the health food store. But I knew there was no substitution of sample here. But I did know I had seen the same situation happen to other people at the clinic on Pico. I also knew how Stephanie had handled it. She took another urine test to send to the lab. Stephanie knew this was no crime.
Well, I was beginning to realize Anasa was inexperienced. One thing she told me was that she had looked into creatinine. Another thing she told me is that she had asked the lab to retest it. In her mind, she had gone beyond the necessary diligence.
So I did what any normal person would do when being falsely accused. I didn’t throw out any racial epithets, but I think I said something about ebonics.. I left, telling her there were plenty of other clinics I could go to.
I e-mailed my doctor at Kaiser for a creatinine blood test on August 12, the next day. By the time the results were sent to my Kaiser website. Anasa had disappeared for several days. So I had to wait until Wednesday, August 23, to show her my low creatinine blood test from Kaiser. It was low: .98. The website also showed a low creatinine level from a year ago.
By this time, August 19, I had been admitted to Kaiser emergency for something related to my digestive system. I asked them to give me the results of my blood test there, which showed negative for illegal drugs, also my creatinine levels.
I had hoped that by doing this small research into my creatinine level, and also hoping she learned something from other counselors at her “training,” she might realize she had made a mistake. Instead she passed the buck by telling me I could wait two more days to see the doctor, Dr. Katukota Vijaya.
By now I was hoping to talk to a medical professional. Instead it got worse. I already thought I was in the Twilight Zone, but after talking to this “doctor,” I was convinced I wasn’t on earth any more.
I had seen this lame doctor a couple or times before, and I noticed she had a serious problem with showing up on time. This reflected her vibe of being above all these low-life junkies. Finally, after waiting at least three hours, the doctor asks me two questions: 1) do I take water pills? (No) and 2)Do I have hepatitis C?”
No, I don’t have hepatitis C. I used to have it, but it went away on its own. This answer did not fit her pictures, therefore I must be lying. She said, “Until I see evidence that she doesn’t have hepatitis C, I don’t feel comfortable reinstating her take-homes.”
Anasa was there, trying to calm me down, because she knew that this quack probably couldn’t pass a high school biology test. I don’t think I have ever been treated so rudely by a doctor. Hepatitis has nothing to do with creatinine.
But like a total FOOL, I set off to prove to the ignorant doctor that I did not have hepatitis C at present. Plus I was losing my cool that she was doubting my word. Anasa then said she would try to help me by searching on my Kaiser website for proof. We sat down in her office. After printing out my five pages of medical history, it dawned on me that my private doctor before Kaiser was the one who had monitored my blood tests, and my Kaiser records only went back three or four years. Nor could I understand the medical codes.
After four or five hours with this doctor and Anasa, I went home with bleary eyes. The next day I called my doctor at Kaiser to blood test me for hepatitis A,B, and C. That ended up costing me $130. It hadn’t occurred to me yet that the doctor was just sending me on a fool’s errand. I started to wonder if the doctor was following orders from Anasa. Sometimes Anasa acted like she wanted to help me (with the computer.) Other times she acted like she wanted to catch me. By the way, after she “helped” me, my Kaiser website didn’t work so good.
Tuesday, August 29, Anasa asked fir another U/A test, but she asked for a nurse to observe me in the bathroom. This surprised me since I had been bending over backwards to show my sincerity.
But A CLOSED MIND IS ALWAYS CERTAIN.
My anxiety and panic attacks that I had cured six years ago, were coming back full force. No matter what proof or facts I presented, nobody was interested and I was exhausted with the struggle. But I still kept asking Anasa, what if this happens again? She always answered with a shrug. This is when I start to realize her motivations. What a great place to work if you get your kicks pushing people around.
By now I planned to transfer to Matrix. I was afraid that even this move would be hampered by Anasa. I decided to just wait to end my thirty day “punishment,” and have my take-homes reinstated. I still was trying to discuss with Anasa what would happen if I had low creatinine levels again. Would I be faulted for peeing watery pee? But I realized she thinks she has the right to punish for low creatinine. I showed her my Kaiser records since 2015. It showed three to four low creatinine tests. This is not surprising from an older woman with low muscle mass.
Finally the 28 days were up, and when I asked what day I would go back to my original schedule, Anasa gleefully exclaimed, “No, it’s 30 days. You’re the one who kept saying it was 28 days. I just didn’t correct you.”
Once more, I tried to ask her what would happen in the future? And the more I talked to her, the more I learned that she did not think she had done anything wrong. Her mind was not open to the scientific facts about the creatinine and urine testing. In one of these discussions I tried to make a joke: “Black woman speak with forked tongue.” I was using the tone of those old cowboy movies, trying to lighten the mood. I waited for her reaction. She had checked out and didn’t even hear my words. Why should she? To her I’m the biggest liar on the face of the earth.
Finally my take-home schedule was reinstated. I asked Anasa what would happen in the future
At one point I remembered that to back up a good fact, you have to have a good theory. Most people think you start with the theory and the facts follow. So I asked her, “What do you think? That we go into the bathroom and add water from the sink into the urine sample?” “Yes,” she said. “That’s exactly what I think.”
Well,” I told her, “the lab already checks tor water in the urine sample in a separate test having to do with specific gravity.”
So what reaction do you think I got from Anasa? You guessed it. The same blank stare that I had gotten all month. She did not know that the lab tests for water in the urine sample.
I decided now to switch to another clinic. I went to Matrix to inquire. They told me I had to come in on the day when my take-homes had expired. Now remember because of Anasa joy in messing up my reinstatement schedule, I was to begin my two week take-home schedule on Sunday. So I went to Matrix on the Friday before the Sunday I was to be reinstated.
Well, it’s hard to believe, but the person who ran that clinic (Domingo) was worse than Anasa. Now Domingo was not a put-together poised type person like Anasa. No, he was your typical gang-banger with neck tattoos galore. I was talking to the woman counselor and saw Domingo charging up to manful force, screaming at me with full raised voice. He was so loud, that other people later came up to me at Venice clinic, having witnessed the show.
Domingo was not going to let me get a word in. He was sure I was up to something sneaky. He didn’t know what it was, but with all his “street smarts” he was convinced I was a low-down dirty crook. He started yelling at me, “You have to come in on the day you want to transfer!” He must have repeated this about ten times, in his attempt to drown out anything I was trying to say. I was only trying to tell him that that day would be a Sunday, and I didn’t think they took intakes on Sunday.
He almost succeeded in drowning me out. My friend was pulling me out the door, knowing that dear Domingo had his mind made up. I was crying by now. Finally, I started repeating myself a little bit with my explanation. Somehow I got through to him, but he was not happy.
So now, which clinic would you prefer? A woman who said she has a Master’s degree but couldn’t understand fifth-grade math (Anasa) or street thug who bullies you by shouting you down (Domingo.)
Even so, I made an attempt to transfer to Matrix. That transfer didn’t work out. Anasa dragged her heels with the paperwork, and Matrix made no attempt to resolve the dispute. That Sunday, by the skin of my teeth I got my methadone dose. And I was back where I started at Venice.
During that next month of September, 2017, I was given a new counselor at Venice. This woman was a normal person: a good listener and open-minded. About a week later, I was getting to know my new counselor, Cynthia, and Anasa walked intoned toeded Cynthia’s office. Anasa wanted to tell me that the clinic was going to look into the possibility that I had been wrongly treated concerning the accusation of tampering withy U/A.
I had been in a jovial mood, joking around with Cynthia. I had the perfect retort to little Miss Blank-Face: “Oh, good! Then you can apologize to ME!” Now, remember I had profusely apologized to her for losing my temper the first time she had accused me of tampering with my urine sample. Anasa stood there for a couple moments, searching her feeble brain for a response, while spitting and stuttering. Finally she turned on her heel and made a very hasty exit.
Within a month or two Anasa had disappeared to I don’t know where, and I stayed at Venice clinic happily until about eight months ago.
MethadonianX 