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Wed Nov 7, 2012, 02:57 PM

Well, I just had another breakdown here at work.

Last edited Wed Nov 7, 2012, 04:16 PM - Edit history (2)

The worst since my big breakdown with the therapist 2 weeks ago. Had to run down to the men's room and cry my eyes out. Good thing I was alone in there. Trying to calm down and compose myself.

Over the same thing, that fucking b**** of a quack physician who ruined my life. I want the life I had back, plus the improvements I am now making. I can never get it back. I don't know if I can ever feel whole again, ever feel that some part of me is not a dangerous, defective monster. My self worth, my very sense of self, was stolen from me.

There really aren't words to adequately describe how I feel about how I was treated. The closest I can come is this:

I feel like I was raped.

All I asked, and then pleaded, was to handle this quietly, outpatient, discretely in a manner which would not expose me, not make it known I was mentally ill. She completely disregarded what I want. No compassion, no consideration of how this would affect me. Just threats and ultimatums.

A five minute diagnosis. Five more minutes to arrest, indict, try, and convict. Like a North Korean kangaroo court. Then three weeks, three of the most miserable weeks of my life, waiting for the system to carry out the execution of my soul.

Even if it were medically necessary, which I vehemently dispute, it could have been handled with much more sensitivity, compassion, caring. I was told absolute nothing, given no information at all to base a decision on, no rational for a plan of treatment. I was deprived of my right to make an informed decision, to consent. I was given ultimatums under threat. I wasn't asked what I would like to happen, I was told how it would go down, no choice.

I went in to this woman seeking help, compassion, care. I emerged an hour later shattered, treated like a common criminal and feeling like one, and truly suicidal for the first and only time in my life. Degraded, dehumanized, utterly lost in hopelessness. I was NEVER suicidal before that hour. Yes, I had thoughts, but no intention, and it was along the lines of "someday, if I'm sick or old or in pain, I would do it" -- more like what Jack Kevorkian was fighting for than what I observed in many of my fellow inmates (patients) in the psych ward. That day, for a few hours, I really wanted to find that overpass support and hit it dead center at 90 mph. The only thing that stopped me was the thought it would devastate and probably kill my mother. She was horribly abused by my psycho of a sad, sad excuse for a father, and she doesn't deserve more pain.

I told her what would happen if she forced me to do this. I told her it would ruin my family relationships, which were already strained, I told her it would destroy my chances for a meaningful way to make a living, it would ruin me financially, it would crush me emotionally. She could care less. It has done all of that to some extent already. And it has turned me into a deceitful liar, one lie after another after another to cover my tracks so no one else in my life finds out my secret. So much for the Hipocratic Oath of first do no harm.

I haven't called her yet to cancel my scheduled appointment and tell her I will never be back. I'm afraid I will say too much, tell her off, tip my hand.

I am researching MedMal lawyers. I am going to make an appt. and pay someone a 200-300 bucks for an hour of their time just to listen. I know psych MedMal is about the most difficult of all, nothing is quantifiable. It will go nowhere, I know this going in. But I have to do this for my own peace of mind.

No, this will not destroy me. Fuck that, I am never going to allow that incompetent travesty of a physician take me down. Because that would mean she won. I'm the winner of this one, and I'll be damned if I' m goiing to be destroyed, even if part of my soul is now dead to me forever. It means I have to work twice as hard, twice as long. It means when I set the weights on a squat machine at the 70 lbs I am comfortable with now, that I have to move the pin down to 90, and do 30 reps instead of 20. It means that I'm signing up for the fitness class after weight loss is over, and for the program they call Boot Camp after the 12 weeks of fitness is over. It means I'm taking the boxing lessons in the spring when I am physically ready. It means I have to fight to the death.

Fuck that bitch. I' m sorry to all of the women of DU for the use of that derogatory term, I consider myself an ardent feminist, but I know no other word that expresses what I feel.

Later.

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Reply Well, I just had another breakdown here at work. (Original post)
Denninmi Nov 2012 OP
BellaKos Nov 2012 #1
narnian60 Nov 2012 #2
Tobin S. Nov 2012 #3
Denninmi Nov 2012 #5
silentwarrior Nov 2012 #4
s-cubed Nov 2012 #6
libodem Nov 2012 #7

Response to Denninmi (Original post)

Wed Nov 7, 2012, 03:02 PM

1. I hate that you are feeling so badly.

I don't think that there's anything at all I can do, but I can assure you that your soul remains whole. And one day, you, too, will emerge whole.
I hope that day comes soon.
Love

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Response to BellaKos (Reply #1)

Wed Nov 7, 2012, 03:17 PM

2. Denninme, BellaKos said it so well there is nothing more I can say.

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Response to Denninmi (Original post)

Wed Nov 7, 2012, 04:14 PM

3. Dennis,

All you have to do is call to cancel the appointment. You don't even have to speak to her again and there is nothing she can legally do to harm you. You don't even have to offer an explanation. You're not getting a divorce for Christ's sake. You were doing so well. You have a new doctor who you like. You still have your job. What's changed?

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Response to Tobin S. (Reply #3)

Wed Nov 7, 2012, 04:36 PM

5. Tobin, nothing material has changed.

No event, no development.

In one sense, I am just feeling sorry for myself today.

In another sense, I am furious over how this played out. I'm not sure if I'm more upset with her for her methods, or myself for being so naive and stupid about what I said to her. As I have said probably ad nauseum, I was just trying to be brutally honest, I thought it was necessary to be completely honest with your physician. Now I question whether I will ever be comfortable doing that, whether I can ever trust a doctor again. I want to, they are probably like ever other group of humans, 95% are good and do as they should, but it's the bad 5% we remember most.

I'm a good guy, I never hurt anyone in my life, and I never will. I'm a good guy who was in a bad place in life, and I just wanted help and support, and instead I was treated like a criminal, and it made me think everything important to me in life was taken away from me.

I'll be ok, these little setbacks last a few days, and then I channel all of this whatever it is, fear, anger, sorrow, grief, mourning for what was taken from me through no real fault of m, I channel it into moving forward with all I've got.

But today, just for a little while, I'm feeling sorry and wallowing in it. Tomorrow is another day, and I'll be ok.

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Response to Denninmi (Original post)


Response to Denninmi (Original post)

Wed Nov 7, 2012, 05:50 PM

6. I've struggled With depression for years. Usually my meds work.We are with you:hang on. nt

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Response to Denninmi (Original post)

Fri Nov 9, 2012, 02:51 PM

7. dude

I went through a huge deal of hating on my MD last year.
I'm going to empathize a little with you here. I'm one of those self-sharers, as a way of trying to understand where you are coming from. (I really liked my last councillor, so I don't get having an incompatible one)
I've taken the same pain meds and doses for about the last 10 years. I'm allergic to heavy narcotics. Or just can't tolerate it. So I have zero recourse to manage pain greater than what I have on a daily basis. I'm always near the top of the pain scale just normally. I deal with it and manage it.
I don't often need a doctor. Mine just keeps my scripts filled. I look younger than my age and I am proportioned night to weight wise. My hair is still blond without dye. On a good day I could still pass for 40. My Dr more or less told me he would not assist me in getting my disability. He said "Get a lawyer". I did. And at $150.00 out of pocket to see him and $250.00 for lyrica plus $60.00 for the other one. I paid about $400.00 for meds before the Medicare.
Last year I had a terrific flair. My neck is fused on 4 levels. I trimmed some roses that were over an arbor. It must have rolled my cage over onto a nerve. It's happened but this felt like what people with shingles describe. And it lasted 6 weeks. I to put my hard collar on night and day just to survive minute to minute. I had no insurance. I could not afford to go to emergency or have another MRI or CT scan. I called after hours a couple of times. And I ran up a $500.00 bill seeing him
The man was a total dick to me. I'm also a medical professional so I'm not unaware of drug seeking behavior. I felt very insulted over the way he and his staff dealt with me. I never asked for more or different meds.
I do think he could have discussed a taper up and down of even that Lyrica. Pfffttt. Makes me mad all over again.
I also needed a paper trail of having unmanageable flairs of debilitating nerve and muscle pain.

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