Hospital Visits

I’m going to include a **trigger warning** in this post as well, since I will talk about some of the medical abuse I experienced (in pretty graphic detail...since I don’t know how else to go about it).

Sorry I’m writing another really heavy post. I promise tomorrow I’ll try lighten things up on here.

On the one hand this blog post makes me feel physically sick to my stomach just writing. But on the other hand I need to get it out of my system...plus, much of this is probably relatable for my chronic illness friends.....especially those who have illnesses that doctors don’t understand or believe.

Over the years I can’t count how many times I’ve had to call an ambulance or visit the ER.  Both before and after the Lyme diagnosis they never got to the bottom of what was wrong with me. I won’t tell about each trip.....I’ll just share the overnight ones and a couple others.

Probably the worst hospital trip in my entire history was at the beginning of May 2017, after my 2nd suicide attempt. My parents and one of my sisters were with me. We chose to go to a hospital that we knew was small (because that meant basically no wait time). Upon arrival a nurse who was processing me said “the doctor on duty tonight is amazing! You’ll love him”.  At this point I was still in shock and feeling extremely scared . The doctor walks in and starts asking the standard questions. I was in tears and super shaky. Then this happened:

 DOCTOR: What’s going on (and what led to tonight)?

ME: I have a lot of physical problems that have been getting worse, so mentally I’m feeling really bad.

DOCTOR: What’s wrong with you?

ME: I have post concussion syndrome....

DOCTOR interrupts me: This community I live in is very into hockey. And I’ve seen many concussions. I don’t think you’re dealing with one.  What else is wrong?

ME (not up for arguing since I was still in a crisis mindset): I also have scoliosis....

DOCTOR: I’ve seen this lots of times too, but it doesn’t look like you have that.

ME: I also have Lyme.

DOCTOR: No you don’t. *pause* So What’s actually going on with you?

At this point I was nearly speechless. But still too shaky and weepy to argue.

ME: I don’t know

DOCTOR (changes topic): What did you do tonight (what method did you use).

 ***I won’t share what I answered***

DOCTOR: “Oh that wouldn’t have worked anyway”.  He then went on to say: “there’s not much I can do for you tonight. If you’ve had depression and other problems for as long as you say, then why did you come in? Just deal with things how you have in the past”. He went on to make me and my mom feel terrible and guilty.

At the time I had been too in shock (from my attempt) to be able to argue with him, and he should have known that I was extremely vulnerable that night. But he didn’t know me at all so I hated how he kept denying my DIAGNOSED problems. Also, even if my method wouldn’t have worked, just the fact that I had been in that mindset should have been reason enough for him to have concern. Also,  the last part (about him wondering why I came in)... The reason I went in was because I WASN’T able to deal with my problems the right way.

He sent me home with a sedative. The next morning I went to my family doctor who prescribed an anti depressant, without warning me of side affects (I was still to distracted to think of asking).

One week later I was home alone and I made my next attempt. In the middle of it I sent some strange text (I don’t remember it) to a friend. She thought it was odd so she immediately called me. I could hardly breathe, but told her what was happening. She told me to keep breathing. Then she hung up so she could call 911 and my mom. A few seconds later the 911 operator called me so she could stay on the line with me until help arrived. The police and paramedics arrived a minute later. And then my mom showed up. The police were amazingly calm and tried to comfort my mom. I went into the hospital, where I spent the next 8 days. Most of that stay is blocked from my memory.

But what I do remember is that they did not believe the Lyme diagnosis. On one night when I was having serious chest pain I overheard the nurses talking and saying “don’t worry about her, I think she’s just making stuff up”.

Similar things were said and assumed the rest of that week.  I faked being better so they would discharge me (and so I could go down to Toronto to have a meeting with a Lyme literate specialist there. However, I was too unwell to travel. Plus at that point the specialist decided I was to complicated for him to treat.

That specialist then called a colleague in Ottawa. Normally she would have had a 2+ year wait list. But (due to my severity) she saw me 1 week later.

I spent months doing treatments with her. Including IV (and oral) antibiotics, IV vitamins, and much more.

Over that Summer and fall I visited the ER many times, for various Lyme flare ups and symptoms. And I met with multiple specialists in Ottawa.

Finally in the very beginning of October my health was SO low. My eating disorder was at its worst, my mind was terrible, and my body was not fighting. I had just met with another specialist, with whom I had another one of my worst doctor experiences. He was the first doctor I actually yelled at.  He didn’t believe the Lyme at all, and made both me and my parents feel awful and stupid.

After that appointment I made my 5th suicide attempt. My dad drove me to the ER where they very quickly admitted me back in to the psych ward, This stay was 2 months long. I had many really rough days in here. Once when they found me on the floor in my room (after me passing out) they said “you know you shouldn’t be on the floor right?”  They also refused to give me medication for pain, because they thought it was all in my head....except for 2 times they found me curled up on the bathroom floor in sheer agony. And any time they caught me self harming they would yell at me instead of giving me alternative coping skills.

None of them believed me. I will spare most of the details from that stay though.

The only positives out of my 2 stays in the psych ward were the other patients. None of them were “crazy”. There’s just a lot of hurt and pain in this world. So having the other patients understand and love me is what kept me going in those admissions.