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sawseech Canada. Feb 14 2010 16:13. Posts 3182

ok, so here is is.

i think that i was awake for part of my surgery.

i'm highly confident that everything went by the book during the procedure, and that there was no neglect, no oversight, no nothing. i think that it was just one of those things. i'm fine with it. it's nothing.

i'm having panic attacks. they occur whenever i'm in the twilight zone between wakefulness and sleep. if i experience a sharp pain, or hear a tearing sound i rapidly progress into a panic attack.

the first one had me thinking that i was going to die. by the time that the paramedics had arrived i had acute pains everywhere and had begun to seize. the paramedics were concerned; concerned enough to credit me critical status and to get me to the hospital with sirens blazing. bp a disaster and getting worse, in acute pain, in danger of losing consciousness. a great way to start the day.

so we get to the hospital and i wait as they work their way through the admission process. i sit still, and breathe slowly. i even grow bored, which is ridiculous once you think about it. one by one, my symptoms vanish. i'm left befuddled, embarassed even. i'm issued an xray, and i meet janet. not satisfied, i seek out psychiatric care.

i'm told to wait in a room. i can't remember when i last slept, and the room looks kinda like a surgical bay. i can't bear it. i have to get out.

i steal a stool from a kindly security person and review my day, as well as the rest of my life. i start to consider the possibility that i have an unresolved pain which caused the panic attack, specifically because i now know that there's nothing wrong with my shoulder and i am on exactly zero psychiatric meds.

this realization prompts me to become agitated. either that or i cannot fathom the horror of it at this moment, given my day thus far and operating on zero sleep which is slowing breaking down the operations of my frontal lobe. i start to behave in kind, in spite off all my best efforts to not do so. i'm sporadically ranting and cursing in a hospital emergency ward and i look like a mental patient because the clothes that the EMTs grabbed were slippers, a hoodie which i cannot zip up, a tshirt i cannot get into, a leather car coat which i wear in frankenstein fashion, and wonderfully fashionable pants which are perfectly fine.

there's a woman in a room, moaning and vomiting her guts out. i cannot stand to be in her vicinity. i move away.

a doctor arrives and tells me that he'll be with me shortly. he doesn't look like the psychiatrist that i thought i had ordered, but i'm far past the point of caring.

he tells me to wait at a place which is, incidentally, very far from the rest of the ward. i go there and wait, operating under the assumption that since the presumed topic of our impending conversation is rather sensitive, it would be best that nobody else hear it.

i have selected my seating position with utmost care. i place my coat precisely where he will never sit, and offer him seating options derivative of how i will drive the conversation.

he arrives and he tells me that he can check my shoulder now, and his body language screams "let's get this huge fucking waste of time over with." at this point i should have stood up and walked out and gone home, but instead i try to explain why it is that i think i had the experience that had brought me to the hospital.

so, let's recap. a guy that looks and acts like a mental patient. a guy who does and then doesn't want his shoulder examined as real patients with real problems stand by and suffer. a guy saying
things like, "my experience this morning is incongrous with the sum of my life experience on this planet." a guy who insists on seeing a psychiatrist.

he asks me if i want to punch him.

my posture has not changed. i have deliberately chosen a reclined seated position with my legs crossed, and had been moving very slowly so as to appear nonthreatening and open to the initiation of intelligent discourse.

i lean forward and say, "fuck yes, at this exact moment i do want to punch you."

you need to understand something about me. most of the time i am incredibly laid-back and chill. stress me out a little and i might cuss some. put me through the worst day of my life, to meet an angel and then find that she is not long for this world, and then to have somebody effectively state that i am a fucking crazy loser and then, yes, i become rather menacing. even with one arm.

he moves over to a desk and picks up the phone and speaks rapidly. he then talks nonsense as he intermittently peers over thataway. fucking tellbox. im prolly up 500 on this guy without knowing it.

three security personnel arrive. i am invited to walk with them. big fucking deal, now i can go home and get some sleep and maybe wake up and think i'm going to die again.

we arrive at our destination and it's not the exit. instead i'm given the choice between door number one and door number two. i inquire as to the precise nature of our arrival here. i'm told that i'm form twelve. i rapidly deduce that i'm being commited.

being rather familiar with the law i declare all the stuff that you would expect me to say in such a situation. my escorts are strangely unmoved by my impassioned highbrow soliloquy. i then clearly state my intent to move directly to the exit. i am intercepted, and then met by an elbow which knocks me half a step backwards. i go into the room.

i wait. a crisis worker arrives. we have a pleasant chat.

i wait some more, and i would give my left nut for a cigarette right about now. a psychiatrist arrives. we have the conversation that i'd been waiting to have. he gives me a script the purpose of which is to make me feel dumb and sleepy, and discharges me. i go to the pharmacy and make the declarative of drug me. then i get into a cab and expect it to crash on the way home. it doesn't and i reward my driver who has two kids. they all have two kids. strippers too.

fastforward to this morning. i have another panic attack as i wake up in response to a stab of pain in my shoulder. i try to talk myself down with the help of a kindly 411 operator. i barely fail. i call

911, and explain that i am 99.9% certain that i do not require medical. the paramedics arrive. so do two firemen, and what looks like a police sergeant. they talk me down, then add that by calling for an ambulance but not specifying a need i have inadvertantly endangered the lives of others which is a highly unfortunate thing for me to have done. they are by law required to respond in forge to a general request for medical assistance. i am ashamed and vow never to repeat this error. they leave. i run errands and then play some cards and win some money. i'm a weird guy.

i plan to see my GP on tuesday (monday is a national holiday), and together we will formulate a plan to manage the situation. it will probably be something along the lines of watching gamefilm and then a few months with a behaviorist.

if another panic attack occurs between now and then i am highly confident that i will be able to manage it.

this is going to make for a highly interesting case study, and if my experience leads to this sort of thing not happening to someone else, it will have been worth it. my primary fear is that someone less controlled, less disciplined may fail the quiz and end up commited. somebody placed in this position may go on to harm themselves, or others. i do not want that to happen.

i do not seek revenge and have no intention to seek legal retribution. the man who assaulted me has probably already been fired. the doctor who instructed the security personnel to manage my movement has been informed that he did so in error, and thereby exposed the facility to massive liability.

i just want to do everything i can to make sure that this never happens to anybody else ever again anywhere.

//
this started on friday. it is now sunday afternoon. i woke up and was ok.

last night i was considering letting this go

fuck that

i was clear in what i wanted and did everything that i could to facilitate getting what i wanted

he acted 100% relative to me being a crazy person, with no deviation, no regard for me as a human being whatsoever. i think that until i am receipt of the paperwork, i am not form 12, and that i have the option to leave and that his directives to security were in violation of my personhood.

if i am form 12d, what can potentially happen to me if:

the crisis worker assigned to me had broken her wrist that morning

the psychiatrist assigned to me had been in a car accident early that morning, and his wife had left him exactly the night previous

both are incompetent

i begin to show flu like symptoms while on the verge of mania

i begin to hallucinate on account of my lack of sleep

great i am having a panic attack, at this momeny thisd very moment.

0 votes

lets go fucking mental la la la la lets go fucking mental lets go fucking mental lala la la

Last edit: 14/02/2010 17:01

SfydjkLm Belarus. Feb 14 2010 16:24. Posts 3810

didnt get a chance to read the entire post yet but panic attacks are pretty common after surgeries, when u get feverish. I know i was having them after i had a leg surgery.

*wink wink*

sawseech Canada. Feb 14 2010 16:53. Posts 3182

sweet now i have the chance to format this

lets go fucking mental la la la la lets go fucking mental lets go fucking mental lala la la

Silver_nz New Zealand. Feb 14 2010 16:57. Posts 5647

cool story

Red9 Canada. Feb 14 2010 17:39. Posts 7447

will you seek legal compensations for malpractice?

I will grind you into dust.

sawseech Canada. Feb 14 2010 18:46. Posts 3182

i am thoroughly satisfied that everything during the procedure itself went by the book. my concern is with the other thing.

lets go fucking mental la la la la lets go fucking mental lets go fucking mental lala la la