#I just got Ativan in my iv

[arthropooda]

Hospital :(

[andhumanslovedstories]

I went to the emergency room the other day to get an MRI after I tripped over my own feet and fell face-first three feet down into a window well. Crazy that didn’t kill me. Anyway, I’m in the ER getting an IV put in by this nurse, and he’s joking with me, I’m joking back, it’s lighthearted, fine time, etc. I go back to the waiting room, then about 20 mins later, I get called back to the same booth where I got my IV so I can get some Ativan prior to the MRI.

(Even they were explaining I was gonna get an MRI, they were like “are you claustrophobic?” And I was like “in some circumstances yes, and in others no. Let’s not roll the dice on which circumstance an MRI would fall under. It went fine, no worries, definitely could have gone without the Ativan, but I can get why going headfirst into the screaming tube that thumps like a dryer with a shoe inside could stress some people out.)

Anyway, I’m back there, and the same nurse comes over, confused to see me, and goes, “huh did I forget something?”

And me, thinking he’s joking around again and knows that I’m here to get a medication, go “haha I guess there’s something else you gotta stick in me.”

Then he didnt say anything, and I played back what I said, just as another nurse came over and told him, “oh she’s here to get the Ativan,” so he gave me Ativan, and I smiled and thanked him, and the second he left, I grabbed Katie’s arm and hissed in complete mortification, “I guess there’s something else you gotta stick in me????” And she was like, yeah. You did a very bad job talking.

Anyway at least medically my brain is fine

[kaijuno]

Had a relapse 2 weeks ago and am now on day 4 again. Just got done with the DTs and the seizures. I tried to go to the hospital because I knew it would be a bad withdrawal but was told that I wouldn’t be able to get more than one bag of fluid or any Ativan until I was in a room and that it would be about a 14 hour wait. So I left. Don’t worry, my bf was driving and monitoring me. I decided I’d rather have my seizures in a comfortable bed than on the ER lobby floor. They didn’t even take my IV out… I had to do it myself at home. I’m just… really disappointed and demoralized

[floral-hex]

Two hours. I got two hours of sleep. I’m so frustrated with myself.

Went to the ER. Everyone was very nice. They gave me an IV bag of fluids (I was dehydrated! Sad cactus!) and a little ativan (teeny dose), which was nice at the time! Just a little amount, but the (mostly) quiet room, fluids, and meds managed to relax me a lot. Could have fallen asleep if the bed was actually comfortable. Then they packed me up, gave me another little Ativan to take home for tonight, and said they’d contact my primary. Cool cool. Got some much needed food on the way home, then took the pill and got comfy. Again, smallest dosage they make, so no feeling too good. Managed to muscle past my anxiety to fall asleep, and… 2 hours. Woke up. Tried to go back to sleep. Too frustrated and anxious and I feel like crap. What should I do? Just eat a whole gummy and hope that knocks me out? For me, that feels like playing roulette. Could work, yeah. Could make me sleepy and pliable. Could also backfire and make me feel sick and extra anxious for another 5 or 6 hours. What do I do? Roll back up to the ER? “Hewwo, I woke up and I need more benzos 👉👈🥺” haha funny, but I’ve seriously been thinking about it 😑

God, I’m miserable. Been sitting outside on the porch for a bit. Not quite an hour. Needed to get out of the apartment, but tbh, nearly 4am outside isn’t doing much for me. I just feel alone. It wouldn’t help with sleeping, per se, but just someone, I dunno, hugging or holding me for a few minutes would honestly save me a little. What a mess. Oh yeah, and apparently my kidneys are going 👎👎👎 down. Bad meat. Not great test results. Not what I’m focusing on tonight. I’m a mess. Anyway, this was my update. Sorry for all the walls of text. Suppose this is mainly for me to look back on in the future, but can’t pretend it’s not at least a little validating to put this all out into the world and knowing that maybe one or two people read this and I didn’t suffer completely without recognition. Yeah…

[girltakovic]

timeline of events

go to the hospital to get an mri

1a. take one (1) ativan before i get my iv placed bc im god's favorite head case/i have too much ptsd to let medical staff touch me without flipping my lid

2. have the mri. uneventful

3. go home. eat lunch. ativan is still in effect (read: kinda sleepy but not too bad) but i can function

4. decide to take a nap since i didn't sleep well last night and im still a little groggy from the drugs. it is 3pm

5. lie down and think 'eh maybe i don't need to sleep after all i feel fine, i'll just lay here and scroll for like half an hour bc that's got to count for something'

6. [REDACTED]

7. wake up, horrifically disoriented, at 7:40pm

[whimsicalpaulrevere]

confronted with the fact I may need to actually spend 3 weeks sober I crashed out a bit. And then considered that everything about me is a lie and a performance and maybe I should've gone into theatre. Then I started going through my brother's pills, surely he'll have something I like(he didn't). I started going through my dads, he's got the basics for a depressed man with a depressed daughter and ADHD son and a dead wife, Ativan, ssris, cold medicine. But I went through his drawers and what did I find? Anti psychotic for said dead wife plus a bottle of Ritalin. I hit the jackpot I think, I haven't had Ritalin or addy since HS, I'd finally complete my relapse trifecta(weed, can and addy) BUT IT WAS EMPTY. IVE NEVER EXPERIENCED SUCH DEVASTATING ITS SO AWFUL. anyway I took some Ativan obvi and the anti psychotics but I'm nervous to take them and Google says it doesn't even get you high but idk IDC if it's even placebos or vitamins or anything I just want to pop and get high and idk.

[bedpissercastiel]

man im gonna be pissed the fuck off when i wake up in four hours and have no coffee

[maximumsunshine]

Can't sleep. Going to mild trauma dump flashback to 18 months ago.

My first few days after surgery they had these things on my lower leg (not for the first time) that I'm under the impression was to prevent like bedsores though with my current level if bedsore knowledge I'm not sure that's true. And it literally does not matter. I swear to the high heavens if anyone chimes in with a well actually I'll hunt you down and make you relive the nightmare I'm about to describe.

But I was stuck in a hospital bed essentially confined to my back and like I'm recovering from a MAJOR surgery and these things are on my leg and every so often they start making noise and squishing my legs in a different way than they had been. And like my meds are all messed up because the hospital doesn't have half of them and they were giving me this major anxiety med via IV, maybe it was my ativan, but something to help me sleep i think. I dunno. It's hazy. This was right after the surgery. Within the first 2-3 days. But whatever med via IV fucked me right up. Not even the morphine on demand button got me half as fucked up.

And one night I'm having massive sleep paralysis with this major IV med coursing through me and my legs being squeezed with a buzzing noise and i spent I'm not actually sure how long convinced i was awake and being electrocuted and unable to call for help. I just lay there for what felt like hours willing my arm to move so i could get the nurse call button. And i couldn't move. I was stuck laying there being electrocuted over and over and over.

When i finally woke up and was able to communicate with a nurse, and 80% of my nursing staff was excellent, the leg thingies were removed immediately, that particular med was stopped, and i slept with my finger touching the nurse call button the rest of my 10 day stay there.

I assume, 18 months later, that my fear of hospitals stems from like cancer and the sepsis, and shit. And it does. But there is a very real night where i spent untold hours being electrocuted in my hospital bed, in my history. And it's fair to say it did some damage yeah.

When i went in to have my gallbladder removed like 6 months later (gods, it really was only 6 months) they tried to put the leg squishy thingies on, because it's a normal surgery thing, and I politely as i could but fully panicked informed them that, that would not be happening, I'd take my chances.

I think they are a blood circulation thing maybe? I don't care. Some day I'll look it up. I just remember when they took them off 18 months ago i had to promise to shift positions in bed frequently. Which is probably why i thought they were a bedsore thing. I've been hospitalized so many times and have spent probably a month of my life wearing those things. But on God, never again.

It's been a really traumatic 22.5 months. Just nonstop trauma one after another. I can't seem to catch a break. But that night is up there. Rolling into the ER a weekish prior with a hemoglobin of 4? Yeah that sucked. But like. The cancer didn't hurt. I guess yeah the recovery was painful. But I had morphine on demand for that bit. Then oxy. The night of repeat electrocution just. It hits different.

I dunno. Trauma is weird. Its like the brain sometimes has trouble grasping the large stuff. But the small stuff? I dunno.

[page-doctor-bekker]

Human Error (transfemme!sarah)

(A/N) this really doesn’t actually have anything to do with sarah being trans, it just takes place in the same universe. this is literally just an event that happened in this au written out so i can write about effects surrounding it without people being confused lol.

-

-

“Reese, we’re slammed, any chance you can take treatment four?” Maggie pointed at Sarah Reese, and then at the fourth treatment room. Sarah looked up from the computer, before grabbing her tablet and heading to the treatment room.

“Hi, Mr. Nearling? I’m Dr. Reese, what seems to be the issue today?” Sarah pushed for hand sanitizer, rubbing her already-dry hands together until the gel had absorbed.

“Trouble breathing…” The man took a few labored breaths, “Cold sweat… I’m shaking, I can’t breathe-”

“Okay, I see, when did this start? Does your chest hurt at all?”

“I… I had a big meeting today and it just happened suddenly. I guess it hurts a little bit.”

“Can I take a listen to your heart?” Sarah asked, already taking her stethoscope off of her neck. The man nodded, and she pressed the drum to his chest. His heart was racing.

He started talking fast, “Are you going to be able to give me a doctor’s note? I’m going to lose my job…” He started breathing faster.

“Has this ever happened before?” Sarah asked, lifting the stethoscope from the man’s chest, “Any history of anxiety or panic disorders?”

“Never like this,” He choked up and coughed a bit, “But, I had social anxiety as a kid.”

“Do you have any family history of cardiovascular disease, diabetes, or high blood pressure? Do you smoke, drink?”

“No, none of that,” The man waved his hands, “I’m a healthy guy. A vegetarian, everything- everything is fine! I’m perfect, I can’t-”

“Mr. Nearling-” He was hyperventilating, and Sarah grabbed one of his hands, “Mr. Nearling, I think you’re having an anxiety attack,” Dr. Reese let go of his hand, and hung her stethoscope back around her neck, and tapped on her iPad, “I’m going to give you something to calm you down, then we can talk about coping strategies and I will refer you to outpatient psychiatry to continue care. April, push 1.5 milligrams of Ativan.”

April pushed the medication through the patient’s IV line, and Dr. Reese pulled up a round, spinning stool to the bed and sat down. April nodded at the doctor, and left the room, pulling the curtain shut.

Mr. Nearling calmed down noticeably, which Dr. Reese took as a success - Panic attack subsided. Dr. Reese smiled, “It’s normal to have some residual physical symptoms, mild tightness, shortness of breath, but as the medication works you’ll calm down more and more. Have you ever had a panic attack before?”

Mr. Nearling shrugged, “Maybe? I’ve never gone to the hospital for it.”

“After a severe panic attack you may have more panic attacks in the coming days or weeks, so I’m going to call in a mild benzodiazepine in case you need a bit of help,” Dr. Reese typed that into the tablet, “When you feel the anxiety and panic start up, you definitely want to try coping mechanisms before you take medication for it. The medication is just for if those coping mechanisms don’t work, which sometimes happens and is to be expected every once in a while.”

Mr. Nearling nodded, taking a deep breath. It was shaky going out, but residual anxiety can do that.

“So, a good first step, whenever you’re having a panic attack, is to recognize that you’re having a panic attack. If it doesn’t work to say it in your head, say it out loud,” Dr. Reese tapped the tablet against her leg with each coming syllable for emphasis, “I am having a panic attack.”

“I am having a panic attack.”

And just like that, it was no longer a panic attack. Mr. Nearling went limp, and the monitors started going crazy. Dr. Reese held two fingers to the man’s neck, and yelled out, “I need a crash cart!”

Everything moved fast after that. Sarah was pushed out of the way by two ED doctors, who started barking out orders.

“He’s in cardiac arrest, page CT. Reese, get on his chest-”

Sarah could feel blood pounding in her ears, and she clasped one hand over the other and started humming. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive. Stayin’ alive. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive… No matter how much CPR she performed, she still needed the song to keep her on beat.

“-Milligram of Epi.”

Ah, ha, ha, ha…

“Hold compressions,” Dr. Choi barked, holding two fingers to the man’s neck, “Clear!”

The man’s chest lurched as he was shocked, and Sarah’s heart jumped into her throat. Dr. Choi held his fingers back to the man’s neck, “Another milligram of Epi. Charge to 200.”

Sarah resumed compressions. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’...

“Clear!”

Sarah held her hands up, shaking. This never got easier.

“Asystole,” April sighed out, preparing another milligram of Epi. She knew exactly what Dr. Choi was going to ask for next.

“Another milligram of Epi.”

Sarah reached to resume compressions, but Dr. Choi swatted her hands out of the way and did CPR himself. Dr. Choi did it slightly faster than Sarah did. He knew the man was dead.

Sarah squeezed her clammy hands together, shaking like a leaf.

Dr. Bekker rushed in almost immediately after Dr. Choi stopped compressions, and was floored when Choi called time of death.

“Alright, why wasn’t this patient taken to the cath lab as soon as his heart attack was diagnosed?” Ava’s tone was stone cold.

Everyone looked at Sarah.

“He uh… He presented with…” She cleared her throat, “With shortness of breath, mild chest pain, cold sweat, shakiness, and extreme anxiety as well as a positive history for social anxiety. He did not-” She cracked her knuckles, “Um… He also displayed signs of work-related stress and no- Uh, no risk factors for heart attack. I determined he was having a panic attack and ordered 1.5 milligrams of Ativan and started talking about coping strategies with him.”

“Whenever a patient shows up with chest pains they should receive a FULL cardiac workup REGARDLESS of history and risk factors,” Dr. Bekker took a step towards Sarah, and grew louder, “If YOU were in the emergency room with CHEST PAIN, would you be anxious?!”

“I- uh-”

“You did NOTHING you should have. ANXIETY is NOT a contraindication for a heart attack, and now this man is dead. Leaving him to die in the waiting room would be more effective,” She spat out, her tone venomous, “Psych residents, I swear. God, isn’t anyone in this hospital competent?”

Sarah was out of the room before she even knew she was moving. Her feet dragged her away and her heart was practically leaping out of her chest. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and she started chewing on her tongue to avoid letting them go. She clenched her fists as Dr. Charles called her name.

“Dr. Reese! I was paged to the ED, something about you?”

“I need to use the bathroom,” She pushed past him, and he grabbed her arm.

“Sarah,” He whispered, “Go sit in my office when you’re done. I’m going to finish rounds. We’ll talk when I’m done,” He started to walk away, before turning around, “You’re not in trouble, Sarah, I just want to understand what happened.”

Sarah pushed open the swinging door to the women’s bathroom, bolted into the nearest stall and slammed the door shut. She sat down and started sobbing.

I’m in love with her.

She choked on her own snot, and ripped off a piece of toilet paper to blow her nose.

I’m in love with her, and she hates me.

She let out a wail.

i’m in love with her, she hates me, and I failed her.

The bathroom door opened.

“Sarah?”

Sarah held her breath, pulled her knees up to her chest to avoid making any noise.

“I don’t think she’s in here,” Sarah heard April, a gentle voice amongst the madness.

Sarah heard a pager beep.

“Ugh, I have a heart transplant. Whatever, send a note to Dr. Charles and let him know I was looking for her.”

She wants to yell at me some more. She wants to hurt me. She somehow knows about me and I’m going to get fired. I’m going to get fired and be all alone. She knows about me and she’s going to hurt me and I’m going to get fired.

They left, and Sarah let out her breath and let her feet fall to the floor. She blew her nose again, and took a deep, shaking breath. She stood up, and leaned her forehead against the stall door. She took her hair down from it’s low ponytail, and shook it out. She grabbed a piece of her hair and started absentmindedly braiding it - an old anxious habit.

A few minutes and three braids later, she opened the stall door and stared into the mirror in front of her. She wiped away her tears, approached the sink, and splashed water on her face, soaking one of her messy braids in the process. She dried with a thin paper towel, took another shaky, deep breath. She grabbed a helping of hand sanitizer on her way out of the bathroom. Force of habit. Even leaving her bedroom at home she sometimes tries to push the sanitizer button, even though it isn’t there.

Sarah practically ran to Dr. Charles’s office, hurriedly taking her braids out and running her hands through her tangled hair.

She unlocked Dr. Charles’s office door with her key, and closed the door behind her. She did not turn the lights on. Instead, she made a beeline for the couch. There was a throw blanket stored under one of the cushions, and she pulled it over her after grabbing it. She covered her face with a pillow, and screamed into it.

“Sarah?”

She forcefully uncovered her face, before relaxing once she saw it was just Daniel.

“Sarah,” He inquired, sitting down at his desk, “What happened today?”

Sarah sniffled, “I misdiagnosed a heart attack as a panic attack,” She choked out, “Mid-30s male presenting with shortness of breath, mild chest pain, cold sweat, anxiety, healthy weight, vegetarian, panicking with a history of social anxiety, currently experiencing work-related stress, no family history of heart disease, nothing.”

Dr. Charles sighed, “Common mistake. Hardly something to have a-”

“He died, Dr. Charles,” She cried, “He’s dead.”

Dr. Charles’s face hardened, “I see,” He faltered.

“And- And Ava, God, Ava…” She pressed her hand to her forehead, “She yelled at me in the middle of the ED, and she said I was incompetent and-” She choked out a sob, “She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Sarah,” Dr. Charles’s tone softened, “She’s just… She’s just angry. She won’t be angry forever.”

“I just really messed up today,” Sarah swiped her tears away with trembling hands.

“You did,” Dr. Charles agreed, “You did mess up today, but-”

“I’m going to get sued-”

“Sarah.”

“I’m going to lose my residency and I don’t have a fallback plan, I’m in so much debt and so much trouble-”

“Sarah, you’re not going to lose your residency,” Dr. Charles yelled, and Sarah fell silent. He took a deep breath, “I’m sorry for yelling at you, but you’re not going to lose your residency. Every single doctor has a misdiagnosis in their career, it’s just part of the job.”

“But he died. And it’s my fault.”

“Sarah, you are going to lose patients. And sometimes it’s going to be your fault,” He reasoned, “You’re a good doctor, Sarah, you’re a good doctor who made a mistake. You want to know what happened during my residency? I diagnosed a teenage girl experiencing vomiting and lack of appetite with bulimia,” He raised his eyebrows at Sarah, “She died of malnutrition. Autopsy showed she had ulcers all along her digestive tract,” He shrugged, “She was in too much pain to eat! But all I saw was a sickly thin teenage girl that was vomiting and couldn’t eat.”

Sarah stayed quiet.

“The point is, things happen. Death happens. Sometimes, conditions disguise as one another. Medicine is hardly ever an exact science,” Dr. Charles pointed out, “Human error is expected, you’re not going to get fired, and you’re probably not going to get sued. Mr. Nearling presented with no typical risk factors of a heart attack, and all the typical risk factors and symptoms of a panic attack. Did you purposefully ignore Mr. Nearling’s heart attack?”

Sarah shook her head.

“Boom,” Dr. Charles threw his hands up in front of him, “You had no malicious intent. You made a mistake, a common mistake, on a patient that didn’t present typically, and it had consequences.”

Sarah nodded.

Dr. Charles sighed, and looked at Sarah with a look of sympathy, “And now it will never happen again, right?”

She nodded.

“You’re going to take complaints with these symptoms more seriously?”

She nodded.

“You’re not a bad doctor, Sarah, you’re just a human,” He said, “In med school they always teach you what someone who has a heart attack looks like, just like they taught me what someone who has an eating disorder looks like. You just have to learn to get past that phenotype and look deeper.”

Sarah stayed quiet.

“Look... This is hard. I get it,” Dr. Charles sighed, “Just... go home, Sarah. Take a breather.”

“What?”

“Go home. Come back in a few days. Take a break.”

“Yes sir,” She said, quietly, before standing up to leave.

-

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(A/N) thanks for reading :) i’m going to build on this at some point and write a follow-up to this one shot. hope you enjoyed! this is a foundation for the parts i want to write, so it doesn’t have too much about sarah’s actual transition. i am so sorry for making ava be mean :(( EDIT: If you liked this, check this out bc I am continuing it!

[slumbercube]

ive been taking so few pictures lately. haven't really been leaving the house. my will to walk around is so weak. I had such bad anxiety before the pandemic and it has really exasperated my agoraphobia and all other aspects of my anxiety, I had made such big strides in recovering and coping with it and then this has happened and I wonder if I will ever get back to that pre-covid state. Like it wasn't perfect but I wasn't taking ativan a few times a week and not leaving the house. I'm almost afraid to leave my room some days and I can't see an end in sight, like when I won't feel this way. Whenever I leave the house and go somewhere I just feel so guilty and so exhausted and scared. It was better a bit this summer when I had just been vaccinated and had already got covid but these pandemic winters have been absolutely brutal. It's upsetting to know that so many people dealing with chronic mental illness are probably experiencing similar things, that this is particularly difficult if you were already having a hard time. It feels like my "mental immune system" is just weaker I just want to walk freely on the earth again, to feel the exhaustion of a long walk. I think once I'm not broke again I'm gonna drive to the ocean all by myself and walk for miles down the beach until I ache and sleep the rich sleep you have after a long day of wandering, of adventure. I miss the mountains of my home and I miss feeling like I'm really living. I am thankful for having been able to see my friends so much this last year, hope I get to see them again soon ok end transmission

[nomchonks]

took rowsdower to the vet yesterday. i asked matt if they gave any instructions for waiting in the car when they called to confirm the appointment, and he said no, so i hoped we would be allowed inside. matt ended up driving past the right driveway and pulled into the next one and parked. i was like, we're parking here? and he acted like it would be impossible to go back out, flip a u, and go in the right driveway. so we walked around the fence and carried the cat over and lo and behold there's signs saying wait in the car and call. matt called and they did not answer so he left me and rowsdower to go fetch the car.

i sat down in the grass with the cat and fought back my anxiety and then he came and we got in the car and called again a few more times. they finally answered and then brought out paperwork and matt was filling it out and he got a phone call from a distributor so i filled out the rest, lady came and got the paper work, he finished his phone call and then wade called and he wouldnt shut up and it was bothering me so much that he wouldn't tell him now is not a good time, he never ever does that, whatever we're doing if someone calls he answers.

it really bothered me that even on his day off when we're doing something important work stuff was still intruding and taking precedence. after the tech took rowsdower in and told us the vet would call i told matt if he took another work call i would be upset and then he got super upset with me. i know i shouldn't have said that. i always get very anxious and lash out during situations like this (going to a new place). i should probably start taking ativan beforehand. anyway, i ended up speaking to the vet in person (i had found a lump on rowsdower and they wanted me to show it to them. it turned out to be a fat deposit. he's a healthy boy) and that sort of dissolved my tension but matt was still upset and i did say sorry. i tried to lighten the mood but it was still kinda bad.

we got home and i went upstairs because i had a headache. when i felt better i started cleaning the room and then later i noticed he had sent me a text that i missed asking if i wanted to run to walmart with him and i really did want to go but since i didnt reply to his text 20 minutes ago he went without me instead of going upstairs to ask me in person? i kind of really did want to go. anyway that just made me feel so bad, i didnt want him to come home and see me crying and then get mad at me for being upset so i went for a walk (which was pretty nice and i should do it more often), i didnt really feel better but i did calm down.

i really hate myself right now but im pretending like things are fine because i dont want to stress matt out anymore, and ive been wondering if my crying and playing a victim isn't manipulative and narcissistic. i'll get over it and things will be okay.

[folie96]

If one more housing thing falls through I’m going to kill myseldf I’m not kidding I’m nothing has gone right for a month straight and this has happened before but not like this not with major things my chest fucking hurts all the time I can’t do this anymore and there’s nobody here I know people care about me but they’re not here physically I need a real hug not a fucking gif I need somebody to help fix this because I’ve been doing most of it alone I’m alone alone alone alone all the time always I don’t know what the duck I’m doing I’m a fucking piece of shit loser and I’m going to be stuck like this forever I’m not going anywhere or doing anything I’m destined to be alone I am annoying and like stupid things and I’m stupid stupid stupid

I just watched the French dispatch and I was so excited for it all day I even dressed up for it bc ive been waiting 2+ years and idc Wes Anderson’s my favorite his movies make me feel safe and happy and I want to crawl inside them and not leave and the 2 hours I spent watching it I was so so happy and filled with love and tenderness and appreciation for life and then on the drive home tiny things happened little negative things and I couldn’t take it I cried so long and so hard and my heart has never felt that much pain I haven’t felt this defeated in my life. I just don’t think I can take much more. I need good things to actually happen even little things

I just wanted to sleep but as soon as I got in bed I got filled with rage I was seething and thinking up how I wanted to die but I’m too much of a pussy. I wish I wassnt I am so afraid of pain I got up and took my ativan and then I started writing this I don’t kno why I just really need a friend I needed a friend I rly needed somebody Rn and the void sounded good

[jenna-jayde-the-renagade]

So my life has gone to shit.. I dont trust anybody anymore, and honest to god I cant help but keep thinking of ways to end it. My mom keeps telling me how to feel about this whole thing, that I should be grateful that i got in finally to see a specialist. Reality is I dont even trust those subhuman animals anymore, and frankly they're gonna have to earn my trust. After 4 fucking years, my life, my future being ruined. My mental health going downhill, all for the second time now. Add on to that, I dont get any meds for the pain so this has pushed me into addiction now for a second time. I've been dehumanized and humiliated, treated with nothing but the utmost disrespect while being stigmatized for being mentally ill, transgender and a recovering addict for most of it. They ignored me for 4 years, my body is damaged, and frankly help just might have came too little too late. I wont just suffer through the next one, the next time this happens I'm gonna end my life, my suffering on my own god damn terms. Atleast I still have control over that..

Fuck the canadian healthcare system. Some days I honestly just want to start selling drugs, and fly to a country where I can just pay to play and get the best care in the god damn world. Cause 4 years now I've been telling them to refer me to a specialist, I've been telling them that it's probably crohns or some other GI issue. They need to do a colonoscopy and a scope to find it, so that's what I would ask for. I would never get it, so i more or less gave up on the healthcare system. They would leave me on the floor thrashing in pain for hours. Treating me like a drug addict in withdrawal when I didnt even have any opioids in my system. I would be lucky if I got an IV for fluids, and even more lucky if they pumped me full of a bunch of over the counter drugs and others that didnt work like gravol, tauridol, buscopan, zofran, and haliperidol. I would tell them each time, that this was the hundredth time they tried gravol, and it doesnt help people when they're screaming in pain. They treat the nausea. Its bullshit because I am in so much pain that its making me nauseous and until they get rid of the pain, the vomiting is just gonna continue. They always treat me like I'm full of shit, and when I turn out to be right and continue puking, thrashing and screaming in pain, they just get angry at the fact they were wrong. Our doctors and nurses are a bunch of sociopathic, apathetic adult children who in my experience take pleasure in watching you suffer. The worse I get the more they smile. They are so stupid, blind almost because if their stupid fucking machine says I'm ok then I guess it's all in my head. They only think that theres nothing wrong with me because theyve only ever done a blood test or an xray. Never ever once have they done a single test that would have found the issue, crohns cant be found just on a blood test. The emergency room doctors think it can be, my family doctor and everybody else I've talked to says otherwise.

On January 1st I was having another flare up, and they shoved me in the psych observation room because they genuinely didnt want to deal with me. They ignore me, and I keep going in because I want help. I dont want to end up relapsing again cause I cant take the god damn pain! But nope, I get treated like a crazy person now.. they did it against my will. And they even tried to take my phone and my keys. I was puking constantly, I needed water to keep hydrated and they left me for 4 hours, locked in, no meds, no help or nothing. So I just cracked.. I had nothing to barf in, to wipe my nose with, or to wipe the cold sweat off me. So I puked in every corner of that room, I puked beside the bed especially because a mop wouldnt fit in there. I pissed in the corner, I would hack up some phlegm and spit it all over the floors and walls, I blew snot rockets on every surface too! After a while some nurse came in and gave me a barf bag. I threw it on the floor and just continued to puke over every hard surface in the place. I was puking every 5 seconds I swear, and the doctor finally came in at 3 hours and 15 minutes. At 3.5 hrs they give me two pills. I straight up tell them there is no point in even taking them. I couldnt even keep water down and these people are stupid enough to make me take pills? Come on. You need to hold it in for atleast an hour to see even the most minimal affects. I was puking every 5 seconds, to the point that I puked before I took the pills, and I puked them out the moment after I swallowed. They had given me a fucking gravol tab, and some Ativan, the latter of which I couldnt even hold under my tongue long enough. I barfed it onto the floor when it was half dissolved. They come back with this clear liquid shit in a shot glass. I swallowed it right after I puked. The liquid burned my insides, and i puked that shit out even quicker. I asked them to give me IV medications for that exact reason, I always ask for IV medications cause its literally a waste of your time and mine to just pump me full of pills when I can't keep them down and they hurt my tummy as they dissolve. They tell me to just "breathe deeply and relax" and to "just try jayden, you gotta try", so then I try, and when they end up being wrong, and I can't take shit. They end up saying that I'm manipulating, that I'm drug seeking or I'm not trying hard enough to make it work. Absolute bullshit, over the course of 4 years I have quite literally told them what to do. I have multiple family members with this disease, and my grandmother was ignored like this too. She told me to ask them for a colonoscopy and a scope, and to ask them to treat the pain, not the nausea cause the pain literally causes the nausea. The sooner the pain is gone the sooner I can be normal and tell them what's going on. Instead I'm left to suffer in the worst pain a human being can feel. I get treated like shit and told it's all in my head. I gave up on getting a diagnosis in year two. I just want to shoot dope whenever the pain comes. Dope atleast takes it away, after all they would be giving me some of the strongest shit they have at the hospital if I was some boomer with a sprained ankle. It would take the pain away. Thats for sure. Being a mentally ill, drug using, autistic tranny they just see that. I get nothing. No help, no answers, not even some relief when my screaming can be heard far and wide.

I want to die right now, and I keep trying to think of a painless way to do it.. buying $400 worth of street fentanyl and slipping into a nice, peaceful opioid coma seems like a wonderful idea right now.. that would end the fucking suffering atleast..

I wont be wearing a colostomy bag. Colostomy bags arent sexy, they are fucking disgusting and you cant just be body positive when you have a fucking bag full of your own shit hanging off you, and your only way of having penetrative sex sewed up permanently and taken away from me. Not like I could even be a decent fuck for anybody at this point anyways. Its painful to shit, let alone anything else. I dont want to give up food either. I love food, food is literally my life and the only way I have to bond with certain people! Like my family for example. Nothing makes me just want to slip.into that coma more then the worry of the future.

Will I be sitting at a family gathering eating bland gluten free, dairy free, all organic 100% vegan fair trade horse shit on a plate while my family actually gets to enjoy the food I used to be able to eat? Moms spaghetti, grandmas meat pies, the baked goods, fresh tomatoes out of my garden and others. A good fucking steak even? Cause honestly a birthday isnt a birthday if I dont have my birthday meal.

I know for a fact my body is damaged from 4 years of suffering. I used to bounce back, now it takes the wind out of my sails for a month.

Needless to say, I just want to fucking die more then anything else. Positivity and anything I love is gone, and all that I have left is knowing that Alberta health services, coast mountain health services, providence health services, and interior health services have all fucked me in the biggest way humanely possible. So thankful for free fucking healthcare!!

You get what you bloody well pay for!!

[totallylesbians]

Tell us the er storyy, are you okay?

It’s long but here it is...

I’m sure some of you know, I was able to get to Canada during the Covid closure because we applied for a family exception and was approved. A concern we had for that was me being on medication and how I would get them since I wouldn’t be able to cross back and forth to pick them up. My fiancé and I have a friend that is an essential worker that lives in Canada and works in the states. He agreed to pick up my meds when I needed them and bring them back to me.

He got hurt on Halloween and isn’t able to cross the bridge for a couple more weeks while he heals. But I need a refill on all my meds before he would go back to work. My fiancé did some calling around to see what we could do about getting them refilled in Canada. She found a few different options and figured the hospital would be the easiest way to get them.

So we went for that through the ER. We knew they’d have a psychiatrist on stand by, if needed, and went to see if we could get a doctor to give me 2 weeks worth of my meds. That would give me enough until my friend can go back across and get them from my dad. It took 7 hours.

I was getting a new one that can increase your heart rate. Because of that they wanted to check mine. It was 90 at first, which the doctor thought nothing of. It’s fairly normal. They wanted to do a heart scan (I forget the abbrivation for it) just as an extra precaution. The longer I stayed there, the worse my anxiety was getting. The more times they checked my heart rate, the higher it was. They couldn’t figure out why it was so high. And the doctor was blown away that I didn’t feel sick or in pain or anything from it. I told him it’s anxiety and nerves. And he said he understands that but I’m too calm for it to be that high. Usually a person with that high of a heart rate saying it’s anxiety is freaking out and acting erratically.

My heart rate was over 130. They weren’t okay with that. They couldn’t figure out how I had that heart rate just sitting there. But they wouldn’t let my fiancé go back with me, because of Covid they only let one person back at a time, which increased my anxiety. And they started asking all these questions and wanting to run these tests and shit so it just kept rising the longer I was there.

At some point, I asked if my fiancé could come back. Since I wasn’t calming down and I told them she would help, they let her back with me. They also gave me Ativan to help calm me down. Once they saw it was lower, they wanted to do another test. When I came back from that test, they measured my heart rate again and it was higher than before. So that alone should tell them it was anxiety.

They drew a bunch of blood to run tests. They gave me an IV to give me fluids. They gave me water, juice, and food since all I ate was a few crackers before I went in and I was there probably 5 hours at this point. Eventually, the doctor came in and apologized saying he meant to add a test to the others he ran when they drew blood but didn’t. And that test would’ve shown more answers for why my heart rate was so high. He said that and gave me the choice to stay longer and take the test and give him some piece of kind or if I’m absolutely sure, I can sign a waiver that says I left against doctors will and whatever happens after is my fault. So I signed the fucker and we left.

Long story short...I needed a med refill, have really bad anxiety but can hide it like a pro, and had a really thorough doctor.

[szparx]

regretregretregret

tw / suicide , car crash , blood , drugs , alcohol , religion

weekends don't feel the same anymore

ive been away for far too long

cruisin' and bruisin' down the highway of hell that is my poor miserable life.

gaining new tumors and ulcers and blisters and bumps every goddamned day

flying so high the birds cant even see me and then crashing so hard that even james dean himself would feel sorry for my soul

never sleeping and not eating. no drinks and no shoes and no shirt and no service, no drugs or nuclear weapons allowed inside.

wild life, right? the kind of mundane that you only get from working a 9 to 5 job in a cubicle for a pharmaceutical company

except im (insert age here) and unemployed and i have been my whole life

and i grew up too fast and escaped too slow and now i am painfully and totally trapped under the seatbelt in my flipped car on i-80 and the child locks are on

and im suspended above a holy burning fire set as a trap for the angels as they come to reclaim their vessel for lucifer himself

a devil like me that only the sweetest of grandmothers could love and care for, and take in as if they're their own

knowing full well their time is almost up and soon they'll be leaving some poor preteen to the foster system in heaven, and all of the cherubs and archangels will pass them around like a plate of chopped liver at an overcrowded thanksgiving dinner that your mom said you had to go to and, yes, you have to wear the sweater vest

it's like a party except you're all alone and there's only gas station vodka and all of the music comes in the form of clocks ticking and other cars passing you at 90 miles an hour as you lay dying.

and nobody seems to care, and nobody called the police because you finally got what was coming to you.

what has been coming to you since the 8th grade.

a suicide so potent that only the greatest alchemist could have ever even dreamed about brewing, and somehow you've done it yourself on the cold tile of your mother's bathroom.

and all of the pills once in the cabinet are splayed on the floor around you, soaking up and dissolving in the pool of warm blood that is making a slipping hazard all over the floor that she loved more than you.

and that same gas station vodka bottle that you partied with like it was your last night on earth is laying in the crook of your corpse's elbow. painfully empty and trying desperately to fill with blood as it spills from every vein in your body, terribly black and thick, and not at all how the blood of a human being who was loved would look like.

and when the police zip up your body into a black bag and send it to the lab for testing, the head officer just shakes his head and rubs his temples because even though he never knew you he still knew that this was coming.

and as your tired coroner makes the first incision of your autopsy the tox screen comes back and tells him all the pills that you ate.

hydrocodone, acetaminophen, amoxicillin, ibuprofen, codeine, alprazolam, detroxamphetamine, amphetamine, diazepam, escitalopram, fexofenadine, fluoxetine, lorazepam, ranitidine, and sertraline Vicodin, amoxil, Motrin, Tylenol, Xanax, Adderall, Valium, Lexapro, Allegra, Prozac, ativan, zantac, zoloft

not to mention a fuckton of THC and booze

and he sighs and scratches his ass and wonders if he should even bother finishing, because he already knows that your insides are mangled and black and disgusting.

and he thinks it's a miracle that you even made it this far, and he knows how much poison you used, and the officer knows how much blood there was, and your family knows how much they resent you, and God knows how much guilt you carried until the bloody brutal end.

everyone knows everything about you. except why you did it, because you never left a note and you don't have any friends to tell so you took that dark secret to the grave with you. literally.

and the funeral is sparse and quiet, and one of your high school teachers attends and tells your red-eyed bloodline how much of a pleasure you were in class and says those five words that they are so so tired of hearing:

"I'm sorry for your loss"

and they've heard it a hundred times today, and a thousand times this week, and a billion times in the last 18 years because that is the only thing you consistently said to them.

and it was always 'I'm sorry' and never 'I love you' and now you can never take that back because you're dead and six feet under, and there's not anything left of you on the mortal plane or existence to bring you back as a ghost so you have to live, or rather not, with the fact that your family thinks you hate them.

and there's nothing you can do except relive your memories, because apparently hell is a movie theater that plays all your moments back to you and you sit there and realize that everything is terrible, and you see everything that you could have done differently if you had just cared a little bit more.

and you miss your brothers, and you realize now that you did have friends and you would give anything just to see them one more time.

and you finally, finally, finally find something that you regret more than living:

dying

[undesired-attention]

Day 1431: I spent most of the day with my mom, they got rid of her pain medicine PCA pump, switched the antibiotics from IV to pills, and gave her a regular diet so they stopped her IV fluids as well. She had a couple of set backs this morning, felt very nauseous after eating breakfast but her body just needs to get used to eating again. She had broth for lunch and she ordered soup again for dinner before I left. I guess the docs came in before I got there and told her she could probsvly go home tomorrow, but I talked with her nurse who has been there the past two days with her about how that might not be the best idea especially so she doesn’t have to come home on pain medication stronger than Tylenol and toradol because of her long history with abuse. I brought the nurses in cookies as well, I’m so happy with how she’s doing and the care she’s getting and that they’re turning a little bit of a blind eye to me staying all day with her allowing myself and my dad and brother to all visit. This was one of the things I feared in the beginning of covid when we stopped allowing visitors, good example is yesterday morning when I got there she was asking the nurses to page the docs for Ativan because of anxiety, but she stopped asking when I got there with her because she just needs someone to be there with her and she admitted she didn’t really need it.. I have a feeling next week we are going to stop allowing visitors again, I know I mentioned our covid unit opening again yesterday, but what I didn’t mention is that we were full within two hours. And our general population of patients is still outrageously high. So both sides are short, covid nurses maxed out with 3 each and our regular nurses maxed out with 5 (we can technically go up to 6, but our staffing fights for us to not have to do that). We are spread so thin right now. And it leads me to think of the complications I saw in June when I returned to regular patients, people who’s surgeries were cancelled or were afraid of coming to the hospital when it was really bad, leading to their conditions get really bad. I had a patient who had had an elective knee surgery, the second stage of it was cancelled because of covid, but the spacer they were supposed to remove got infected and he lost his entire leg. There’s just so so so many things you don’t think about and it’s sad. I’m anxious to go back to working with covids all the time again because that entire situation was traumatizing but idk. I got my covid antibody test and I’m negative, so that most likely means I’ve never had it (I figured that) but also I did not build up any kind of immunity to it from working with those patients 12 hours a night for 4 months. Either way, I’m very very very tired and Am probably going to go take a shower and fall back asleep and try to head back in to see my mom at 11. My tailbone is hurting really bad from sitting in the chair in her room for just a few hours, I did lose a bit more weight (sigh) but I’ve never really had that much pain from sitting before.