Wednesday, January 26, 2011

MTMHI Cap (the rest of the story)

I have to write out the rest of what happened, following my overdose of haldol.

I only got so far as to write about how these medications never should have been prescribed to begin with. Which was with the second doctor, Dr. Johan.

So after I was in front of the team of doctors and medical professionals and students, unable to speak, I was then given a shot of Ativan and I got drowsy and fell asleep. But I didn't pass out. I didn't pass out like I did the one time where I literally passed out on the chair and didn't know it.

So then I was out and the next day I had no convulsions or problems at all. I was just exhausted.

To even try to talk to the team of medical professionals there, I had to put my fingers into my mouth and press down on the edges of my tongue to try to flatten it out. Repeatedly. It was horrible.

Then we were in different groups where I felt I was being analysed for my intelligence all over again. It was games on random trivia, like trivial pursuit and questions a Presidential candidate might be asked. There was trivial pursuit with questions on politics and history (who made the first U.S. flag? what war was fought in ________, which war is memorial day honoring? name 3 presidents that were assassinated...etc), and then there was this room with questions of "can you make it fit and not be tangental?" like: name 3 colors of fruits and the type. name 7 animals with spots.

Then there were groups about understanding mental illness or prescriptions and things. And inbetween, doses of meds with a few of the "patients" livening up enough to be perky and ask me what my plans for the future were. Where are you going. What are you doing. When do you want to go. What do you think. etc.

And some of the "patients" there were just experimenting with me and it was obvious. They had some of the 'psychic" people in there, pretending to be nuts and doing trials and guesses on me. Trying to predict that I would take my meds or not and what would happen to them, trying to predict which toilet I would use and how often, and I am NOT joking.

There was even a little bit of technology stuff in there, but not bad. A couple moments though. Some of the people there who were in just to test me, were showing hideous signs of pleasure when I was shot up with haldol. They didn't even hide it, or thought I was so shot up with crap that I wouldn't notice them and their reactions.

A few people in there were probably concerned and trying to help and watching. At least one voluntary admission I'm sure, just to see how I was doing. Which I appreciated.

I imagined it would have been a whole lot of fun to be admitted for long-term at any mental nuthouse. I guess it's true that I was not "committed" so there is a difference I was told.

I was just under observation, but they were allowed to medicate me while I was being "observed".

So the next doctor told me to meet him, Dr. Saha.

All three doctors I saw were Eastern Indian. Saha was from Bangladesh. Saha took me into his office and he seemed fine, but it was after I had met him that I got the mega-dose of haldol. I don't know who ordered it, because Jahad ordered the first round in the shot form, but someone ordered it.

So he just asked me how I was doing and had a nice bedside manner, oh...wait, I saw him after I was dosed up. And then he said, when I couldn't talk, he would order a shot of benydryl. Later, after the team saw me, I was given the other shot of Ativan.

I couldn't even speak so I had paper and pencil to write with and had to write down what I thought. I said there had been a miscommunication and that I needed a shot to get rid of the symptoms. Dr. Saha said I was psychotic because paranoia and psychotic are the same thing. They're not and I know this. Then he tried to say there was "disordered schitzophrenia" and "ordered schitzophrenia" which was a bunch of bs. He asked if I really believed anyone had poisoned me. I felt pressured, all the way from Vanderbilt to MTMHI, to deny it was even thinkable that anyone might ever poison me or try to harm me or my son.

Actually, at Vanderbilt, they just shoved me in.

I talked to Dr. Saha for about 30 minutes though he said it was an hour. I don't think I even had a whole hour with him but maybe. I don't think so because I couldn't even talk, but then I was out until seeing the others.

After seeing the medical team and getting the Ativan, I said I was not going to take medication, again, and this time they didn't force me. After my heinous reaction, witnessed by all, I wasn't forced to take anymore medication. I was worried that I had been given the wrong med, worried that since not everything was honest, I was concerned that the first shot of haldol had been the "long-acting" form that lasts a whole month. I was told no, that I was given the short acting form.

But I did worry, because some of the medications were not given honestly.

So I wasn't forced to take anything else after this and the only thing I requested on my own was Ativan, 2 nights in a row, not for agitation (as directed)but just to be able to sleep. I couldn't sleep at night. Naturally.

Other than this, I took nothing and I ate everything I was given. I maintained a vegetarian diet while there and ate everything and also took food offered to me from others (we did some swapping).

I probably have some funny things to write about and interesting things to say about the whole ordeal but right now not feeling very funny.

I mean, there was one woman there who looked like Princess Leah-just-escaped-from-Jabba-the-Hut, and a few other things, like, I seriously contemplated learning sign language. One woman was mute and deaf and had a book on sign language and I tried to communicate with her and then thought if I got stuck there, at the very least I would come out of there with a new skill in sign language. So I tried to ask for another book to be ordered for me but they said no, I wasn't going to be there that long.

Then I thought, "Oh shoot. Don't give anyone ideas about how you could be molded into someone who knows sign language if forced..."

Everything there, was viewed through my eyes as posssible tools for manipulation and molding of me. Which wasn't nuts. It was like this: you're in there and suddenly you're aware that ANYTHING you do could be misinterpreted. If you wanted to walk up and down the corridors to get exercise, it could be viewed as "restless pacing". So I didn't do as much as I normally might have.

I figured it wasn't good to spend the whole time by myself so I read part of the time, sort of, and then the other part of the time I played games with others. I played chess (not knowing how to play chess), cards, and scrabble. I tried to read but I was so out of it I just read the same page over and over and couldn't remember what I'd just read. I picked out John LeCarre's "Our Game" and was interested in an American one too, The Icarus, but I didn't read it. I only got halfway through "Our Game".

Then there were only a few non-fiction books and one of them was "Royal Paramours". I saw this before I discovered I had the homeless newsletter with "Willy's" photo. I knew NOT to grab that book. After day one or two though, I was bored so I think I grabbed it on the second day. I carried around "Our Game" on top of "Royal Paramours" with my Bible. A couple days I just took my Bible and none of the books. I pretty much left "Royal Paramours" in my bedroom. (cough cough). It was the only historical book there though. Seriously. Finally, I also grabbed "Triumph of the Conservatives" because it was also non-fiction.

I didn't really read Royal Paramours. I really didn't. I read much more of my Bible. It was the only thing that I could understand and focus on. Which was strange, but everything was hard to read or focus on but the Bible was still very fluid. I started getting into The Game too. It was becoming easier to read after time passed but I only got halfway through it. With the Royal Paramours I mainly looked at the photos of the women and then one time I fancifully asked God which one I might be most like if I were like any of the women (personality wise) and I won't say more, for now, on that. I am sure I'm not like any of them and I don't trust random findings from such a book anyway. It was a woman who was described as very witty (which I don't feel I am now) and discreet. One of the most discreet. Which sort of made me laugh. Maybe I'll write out the name since it doesn't matter or really mean anything, later. I am not aiming, in my life, to be anyone's mistress however. I want my son and a normal job and that's about it. And maybe a normal marriage.

But the fascinating thing was how the Bible still made sense. I was very thankful for this. I kept it in my coat pocket (my Bible) every day when I left the room and found this to be the best reading. I almost tried to read White Fang again too, but didn't.

I didn't try any random readings of course. I was just looking for ways to pass the time.

I looked for a way to escape. Of course. Just checking out the possibilities. If I had thought there was a way to run out and escape, if there was no other hope of getting out, of course I would, like anyone. It snowed and then I thought "I can't run out in my socks". It was all secured anyway. Everything. It was as tight as a jail. I wouldn't have run anyway, if things were halfway smooth, but I was at least checking out my options for reference.

I was very impressed with my parents at this time. They talked about flying over right away and I said no, don't do that yet. And then every single time I tried to call, my mother was able to answer the phone and they called too. It was really nice and my biggest support at that time. She said no one felt I should be medicated and after this, no one tried.

I got desperate at one point too, and didn't want to be medicated and told the staff I needed a stamp for mail to have someone publish my posts for me on my blog. I also gave a note to Dr. Saha that said, "I believe there may be a conflict of interest...Do you know FBI agent Diane Harsha or the Sterling-Tanzer family?" I was trying to think of anyone who had Eastern Indian connections and why was I there. ? The next morning, I have to say, everything changed for the better.

An attorney showed up and said I was going to be released the next day (a couple days later) but that they wanted me to sign a waiver to a hearing. A waiver to not have the hearing. And then I was released a day later. She said, "Because you're going to be released anyway." I said, "No, I won't sign a waiver but I will sign for a 'continuance' until we have our own family lawyer here."

I found out there were 2 kinds of hearings and I didn't want to sign away any rights without knowing I was released first.

Anyway, I wanted a drink when I was there. I was reading "Our Game" and on every other page, they're having a drink. The guy sounded like Christopher Hitchens.

I got out and didn't have a drink though. No desire to spend my money on it right now, though I'm not opposed to drinking at all.

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