I have always had this fear, but after last winter it has been compounded X1,000.
Over last winter I went through what is hands down the worst time of my life. I had just had one of my toughest years, too many major life changes, and just as I was getting settled things got bad again. My ability to cope had been exhausted due to the previous year.
It started with a car accident where my head went through a windshield. Although I was taken to the E.R. via ambulance I had no memory of the accident and seemed fine to them not to treat me. I wasn't. Months later I asked and they said if I had told them I had been unconscious they would have done something. I DIDN'T KNOW I had been. Massive memory loss and not mentally capable nor did I have enough awareness of why I was in the hospital to explain. This was a SYMPTOM!!!
I haven't been the same sense. Fought and fought for an MRI and couldn't get one. I wasn't me anymore.
Then in January my psychiatrist went on personal leave after adding ativan for sleep onto of my 3 a day kolonipn. It was too much with my brain injury. I wasn't sleeping still but had zero short term memory and couldn't communicate in a away that made sense to people, I was fully aware something was very wrong. Went back to my Pj's office and saw a coworker. He just upped the ativan dose, said my memory problems were anxiety.
A few days later I witnessed a murder next about 30 feet from my back porch. I'll spare you the details. It sent me spiraling. A week 12 days later on the anniversary of my moms suicide I tried to kill myself. I had not slept in 12 days, no joke, no exaggeration. Tried to get help first but was told the help had to come from within from the E.R.! They would not admit me before or after.
I am leaving a lot out, but this is where my response to @white hyacinth came into play. The help has to come from within and pick yourself up by your boot straps came into play. And "There is a whole in the bucket" said snarkily to me.
Despite my begging and pleading for hospitalization and food, yeah didn't eat (no money) or sleep for another 2 weeks ??couldn't form clear enough thoughts to help myselan I was in no shape to pick myself up from my bootstraps. I was also being abused by my husband and therapist and thought I was going insane. I wasn't!!! It seemed like the only explanation to why my therapist was so cruel and would say things purposely to hurt me. Insanity was the safer option.
So when I went back to my psychiatrists fill in he added restoril to the mix. So
.5 mg kolonipn x3 a day
2mg ativan at bedtime
15 mg restoril aka temazapam
All prescribed by a Dr. who also told me to lie to get into the hospital and made me feel like if I argued I wasn't being med compliant. I started throwing up, spare you the graphic details but I believe the benzos stopped my digestion altogether. I took more one day because threwup. The second I took a drink to swallow the pills. I was always honest about this but got called an addict here for that.
On my birthday my therapist told me I was materialistic for wanting a phone. I had zero phone access. No money for the cheapest throw away phone even. This was a huge trigger because my birthday was never acknowledged when I was a kid and my therapist was quoting my abusive grandmother and yelling at me. Husband confirms this as I questioned my memory. Found out I could hook my old phone up to WiFi and came here.
Part two coming soon.
Over last winter I went through what is hands down the worst time of my life. I had just had one of my toughest years, too many major life changes, and just as I was getting settled things got bad again. My ability to cope had been exhausted due to the previous year.
It started with a car accident where my head went through a windshield. Although I was taken to the E.R. via ambulance I had no memory of the accident and seemed fine to them not to treat me. I wasn't. Months later I asked and they said if I had told them I had been unconscious they would have done something. I DIDN'T KNOW I had been. Massive memory loss and not mentally capable nor did I have enough awareness of why I was in the hospital to explain. This was a SYMPTOM!!!
I haven't been the same sense. Fought and fought for an MRI and couldn't get one. I wasn't me anymore.
Then in January my psychiatrist went on personal leave after adding ativan for sleep onto of my 3 a day kolonipn. It was too much with my brain injury. I wasn't sleeping still but had zero short term memory and couldn't communicate in a away that made sense to people, I was fully aware something was very wrong. Went back to my Pj's office and saw a coworker. He just upped the ativan dose, said my memory problems were anxiety.
A few days later I witnessed a murder next about 30 feet from my back porch. I'll spare you the details. It sent me spiraling. A week 12 days later on the anniversary of my moms suicide I tried to kill myself. I had not slept in 12 days, no joke, no exaggeration. Tried to get help first but was told the help had to come from within from the E.R.! They would not admit me before or after.
I am leaving a lot out, but this is where my response to @white hyacinth came into play. The help has to come from within and pick yourself up by your boot straps came into play. And "There is a whole in the bucket" said snarkily to me.
Despite my begging and pleading for hospitalization and food, yeah didn't eat (no money) or sleep for another 2 weeks ??couldn't form clear enough thoughts to help myselan I was in no shape to pick myself up from my bootstraps. I was also being abused by my husband and therapist and thought I was going insane. I wasn't!!! It seemed like the only explanation to why my therapist was so cruel and would say things purposely to hurt me. Insanity was the safer option.
So when I went back to my psychiatrists fill in he added restoril to the mix. So
.5 mg kolonipn x3 a day
2mg ativan at bedtime
15 mg restoril aka temazapam
All prescribed by a Dr. who also told me to lie to get into the hospital and made me feel like if I argued I wasn't being med compliant. I started throwing up, spare you the graphic details but I believe the benzos stopped my digestion altogether. I took more one day because threwup. The second I took a drink to swallow the pills. I was always honest about this but got called an addict here for that.
On my birthday my therapist told me I was materialistic for wanting a phone. I had zero phone access. No money for the cheapest throw away phone even. This was a huge trigger because my birthday was never acknowledged when I was a kid and my therapist was quoting my abusive grandmother and yelling at me. Husband confirms this as I questioned my memory. Found out I could hook my old phone up to WiFi and came here.
Part two coming soon.
