dharmaBum
Platinum Member
I was in the Emergency Room last night because I had gotten a handful of dry concrete dust in my eyes and after 30 minutes of the best at-home first aid, the pain was still severe. I've had several traumatic ER/hospital experiences and avoid the place whenever possible, but poison control and Dr. Google both agreed, concrete dust is a chemical burn and medical treatment was necessary to prevent secondary infections and other complications.
I've been struggling with overt PTSD for two years and am well familiar with panic attacks & dissociation. The general pain from the eye damage was strong enough and long enough to bring on the spaciness of light dissociation before I got to the hospital. At the hospital there's an eye irrigation procedure called a Morgan Lense that is noted to be unbearably uncomfortable to some research volunteers who have healthy eyes. However, the ER staff said nothing of how it would feel, not even that it might hurt a bit, and the ensuing pain was a complete shock. Once the Morgan Lense treatment began, exacerbating the pain from the damage to my eyes caused by the concrete exposure, dissociation and a full-blown anxiety response came on strong as well as generalized physiological dysregulation: uncontrolled trembling in my entire body, hyperventilation, and a sensory disconnect from the rest of my body, except for those dang painful eyes.
I noticed all of this while crying out and crying uncontrollably from the pain of what would be an hour long constant irrigation in both damaged eyes. I noticed this and even though my eyes were closed as part of the procedure and I felt almost completely disoriented (there were 5-7 healthcare workers and volunteers in and out of the room continuously discussing the situation and looking for the appropriate supplies since no one had actually done it before), I spoke up to whichever two male workers were somewhere near my head and I said,
"I have PTSD and am noticing signs of dissociation. I'm trying to stay calm."
That seemed to be exactly the right thing to say as one of the men started asking me specific questions about what was happening right before the accident and engaging me in a friendly discussion about gardening. My husband quickly came over and touched my leg to let me know he was there. They brought warm blankets and the calm & comfort began to settle in. The shaking reduced. They started an I.V. for pain, anxiety, and anti-nausea meds. During all of this, the procedure still went on as painfully as ever, and I continued to cry from the discomfort, but I did my best to stay focused on the present- on being "in" my body.
Asking for help, sharing that I have PTSD and dissociation, this was all very notable for me. As the procedure was excruciating, disorienting, and long, I was preparing myself to cope "old-school." Just listening to the sounds of everything, taking it "like a man", not letting anyone know how scared or hurt I was.
I think that reaching out in this way helped avert the creation of a new trauma on my very long list.
I've been struggling with overt PTSD for two years and am well familiar with panic attacks & dissociation. The general pain from the eye damage was strong enough and long enough to bring on the spaciness of light dissociation before I got to the hospital. At the hospital there's an eye irrigation procedure called a Morgan Lense that is noted to be unbearably uncomfortable to some research volunteers who have healthy eyes. However, the ER staff said nothing of how it would feel, not even that it might hurt a bit, and the ensuing pain was a complete shock. Once the Morgan Lense treatment began, exacerbating the pain from the damage to my eyes caused by the concrete exposure, dissociation and a full-blown anxiety response came on strong as well as generalized physiological dysregulation: uncontrolled trembling in my entire body, hyperventilation, and a sensory disconnect from the rest of my body, except for those dang painful eyes.
I noticed all of this while crying out and crying uncontrollably from the pain of what would be an hour long constant irrigation in both damaged eyes. I noticed this and even though my eyes were closed as part of the procedure and I felt almost completely disoriented (there were 5-7 healthcare workers and volunteers in and out of the room continuously discussing the situation and looking for the appropriate supplies since no one had actually done it before), I spoke up to whichever two male workers were somewhere near my head and I said,
"I have PTSD and am noticing signs of dissociation. I'm trying to stay calm."
That seemed to be exactly the right thing to say as one of the men started asking me specific questions about what was happening right before the accident and engaging me in a friendly discussion about gardening. My husband quickly came over and touched my leg to let me know he was there. They brought warm blankets and the calm & comfort began to settle in. The shaking reduced. They started an I.V. for pain, anxiety, and anti-nausea meds. During all of this, the procedure still went on as painfully as ever, and I continued to cry from the discomfort, but I did my best to stay focused on the present- on being "in" my body.
Asking for help, sharing that I have PTSD and dissociation, this was all very notable for me. As the procedure was excruciating, disorienting, and long, I was preparing myself to cope "old-school." Just listening to the sounds of everything, taking it "like a man", not letting anyone know how scared or hurt I was.
I think that reaching out in this way helped avert the creation of a new trauma on my very long list.
