Alarmingly Dangerous Bully
By: George Feigley
Cofounder
Stanley Michael Stanish of Clark Summit in far North-Eastern
Pennsylvania has a medical license (number MD 039841L). After
having been subjected to the man, I find the fact that he still
has a medical license to be a remarkable testimonial to
Pennsylvania's willingness to license just about anybody.
Mister Stanish (who uses "Stan" as a first name) seems to provide various medical functions at more than one of Pennsylvania's state prisons, but we find no local address listed for him in his home area. Apparently free, unimprisoned persons won't put up with the abuse that prisoners must endure. Personally, my opinion is that any sick person should avoid Stanish. I believe him to be a dangerous person. Stan Stanish appears to peddle his dubious services through a number of so-called "written agreements." It seems that others who share his level of competency and compassion operate under the umbrella of his medical license to provide institutional "care" to helpless persons who have few if any options. Fortunately, so far, I've come into contact with Mr. Stanish on only two occasions. I admit that my experiences and the personal opinions that they've formed are limited. It's possible that Stanish was sick himself when I was subjected to him. Maybe he was having a bad day. He may have just been taking his frustrations out on me. My experiences may not be representative. To assure myself of my opinions, I spoke to at least 20 prisoners who have also been subjected to Stanish. In every single instance, the prisoners felt victimized and abused. Many of them were of the view that he was a "nut case," cruel and vindictive. One made the absurdly exaggerated comparison with Josef Mengele, the Nazi's "Doctor Death." You should decide for yourself. Use my experience as a template.
I was intercepted by Stanley Michael Stanish, white-haired, overweight, loudly vociferous. On the day in question he was, for some reason or another, playing the role of a "nurse practitioner." It was the second time I'd been exposed to Stanish. The first time was when he harangued and badgered me when I returned from the hospital after a heart attack. On that occasion he wanted me to know that I was going to die. Aren't we all! I had to sign a paper acknowledging my mortality. It was sent to my wife apparently to frighten her. Seeing me on the second occasion, Stanish reluctantly growled that I'd been summoned in order to get a routine yearly examination. He seemed to become furious when I told him I had no desire for a routine examination. They are a pointless waste of time and effort. They serve no real purpose. No worthwhile tests are really done. No follow-ups are performed where a problem is suspected. Nothing of value is really accomplished. The patient is simply repeatedly subjected to the germ-infested medical areas because each little step of the examination is done on a different day.
I was nonplus. I'm a prisoner. Lots of folks don't like me. Why would I care particularly if "Doctor" Stanish was part of that chorus? More to the point, why would a medical practitioner want to tell me he didn't like me? How did that further his medical responsibilities? He didn't care that I didn't want the examination. He raved that he didn't want to give it to me. He said he'd only do it because it was the law. You'd think he'd have been delighted that I didn't want the examination and would have sent me on my way. Instead of being delighted to be rid of the unpleasant legal obligation, Stanish harangued me at length. He called me names. He told me I was "stupid" and old. Most alarming of all, Stanish told me that he "hoped" I would go out and "drop over" dead, or words to that effect. I was stunned. No doctor, not even in prison, had told me that he hoped I'd die! Guards like Conti and Cress had said similar things, but never medical personnel. Stanish continued to badger and scream at me for perhaps 8 or 10 minutes. Finally, I had to leave without being dismissed. I was shaken and shocked. Where else, but in a prison, could a doctor like that get a job? Would a real hospital allow him to harangue patients with death wishes? At no time did I disrespect Mr. Stanish or say anything personal about him. I simply endured the tirade in mute disbelief. Outside the tiny examining room in which Stanish had abused me, nurses and other prisoners were gawking. They'd obviously overheard Stanish's performance. The audience seemed as shocked as I was with Stanish's conduct. For me personally, his conduct was frightening and shocking. How could I entrust any part of my health to a person who hoped I'd fall over dead? I was shaken and upset by the experience. I suffered chest pain, trembling and nausea. I came away believing that he was intentionally trying to precipitate a serious health crisis. Obviously he disliked me to the point of wanting to harm me. That can't be good! My humble understanding is that the Father of Medicine, Hippocratas (circa 462 BC-378 BC), is credited with an oath for doctors to "first do no harm." Most persons understand that heart patients shouldn't be stressed or overly excited. It's easy to cause a fatal heart attack. Most decent doctors would go out of their way not to cause a heart patient any shock. Stanley Michael Stanish preferred to scream, harangue and hope that I'd die. It may be wise for other patients to avoid such treatment.
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Like a miscreant being summoned before an irate dean for the
offense of having not yet died, I was required against my will
to present my old person at the prison medical department. I
had no idea why I was being required to appear. I certainly didn't
want to be there. While I'm a heart patient in very fragile
health, I hadn't asked to be seen by the prison medical staff.
Frankly, I was simply trying to survive long enough to be released
from prison. Survival is a daily challenge for the old, the sick
and the vulnerable at the Frackville state prison. It is a place
of abuse.
By refusing the examination I somehow morphed Mr. Stanish from
an unpleasant functionary into a furious bully. He screamed that
he didn't like me.