#medication abuse

[compassionatereminders]

The worst thing is that there is so much potential for exploring the horror of psych wards from the angle of medical abuse, ableism, forced treatment/drugging, loss of autonomy, power imbalance, demonization, dehumanization, etc, and YET the horror genre keeps defaulting to "insane asylums and psych wards are scary because there are mentally ill people in there"

[murielsbottombitch]

why is it so hard for able bodied people to believe that doctors are sometimes just incompetent? you realize doctors are people, right? people that can be bad at their job. that happens sometimes. they don't know everything because there's a piece of paper on their wall that says they're smart, actually. they can sometimes be wrong, actually. they can sometimes cut corners and take the easy way out, actually. they can sometimes hate their job and make that their patients problem, actually. doctors aren't all saints who do everything right the first time. please stop invalidating disabled people when they complain about their terrible treatment at the hands of medical professionals. please stop putting the feelings of doctors over the lives of their patients.

[simplivia]

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[nightmaretour]

Okay now I've gotten myself angry again. Every time a medical professional is abusive/neglectful the overwhelming response is "Their job is so stressful and underpaid! They deal with so many rude and abusive patients, of course they're like that!!"

You know who else has stressful, underpaid jobs and deal with rude and abusive customers a lot? Retail workers. But if a retail worker started assaulting all of their customers you'd hear all about it, wouldn't you? The consequences would be enormous, and there would be an overwhelmingly negative response, even if it was exclusive to rude customers.

Now imagine this was the norm, and it was socially acceptable, encouraged even, in retail jobs to abuse and assault your customers whenever you feel like it, for any perceived sleight, just because they need to buy groceries and you have to serve them. It would be all over the news, it would be an international scandal with arrests all over the place, there would be exposés of the secret culture of abuse and assault in retail workplaces on every channel and news source with interviews with the victims. Everyone would know about it and everyone would care, because of course that's fucked up.

So why is it different when your victims are sick and rely on you to survive?

[mrsmarlasinger]

Haven't eaten but I hit my albuterol inhaler, ohmygod, TEN TIMES and sniffed my Benzedrex four(??) times and held a caffeine pill under my tongue with some caffeine drops until it dissolved in an attempt to take it sublingually (what the fuck?????) and now I'm shaking like a fucking Chihuahua and my vision is blurry and I'm gonna impulse-buy Sims 4: High School Years unless I pass out first. My heart said 🧀🧀🧀🧀🧀

[thebibliosphere]

Whenever I talk about the medical neglect and ableism I've encountered as a victim of the healthcare system, there's always some cockwaffle who feels entitled to come into my inbox and make the argument of "not all doctors" while talking about how "people like them" (because it's always someone in a field of medicine who does this) are doing their best and it's really hard because so many people fake being ill to get on welfare (Yikes), but like, yeah, obviously #not all doctors, because if all doctors were negligent, bullying scum bags, I'd be dead.

But here's the thing: while I truly believe that the majority of doctors are doing their best in a system stacked against them and their patients, their presence does not negate the mass harm caused by the bad ones. And there are far more bad ones than you realize.

Fuck, John Oliver literally did a segment on this last week:

Yes, the truly bad, malicious doctors are in the minority. Most are just horrifically burned out and fighting a losing battle against a system, killing both them and their patients through a lack of funding and resources and profound overwork.

But the malicious ones do exist, and they will go out of their way to harm patients who don't kowtow to them.

I almost lost my life because when I was in my early twenties, I told a doctor I didn't think she was listening to me, and I disagreed with her assessment of my mental health (she was not a mental health doctor, and I was there for heart palpitations and chronic pain). She retaliated by putting "non-compliant" in my file.

There was also a fun little "doesn't show respect" note too that lives rent-free in my head because I know I wasn't rude. I was polite. I just didn't agree with her, and my refusal to accept her off-handed comment that "you probably have bipolar or BPD" (again, I was there for heart palpitations and chronic pain) meant I was "refusing care."

I wasn't. I just refused to be slapped with a mood/personality disorder when I was there because I kept fucking fainting when I stood up.

(Spoiler alert: it was dysautonomia)

That "non-compliant" marker followed me around for years. It followed me across an ocean and effectively ensured that any doctor I saw was going to treat me like absolute dogshit because no one wants to help Difficult Patients. It wasn't until I was so undeniably ill, literally on the brink of death, that anyone helped me.

I'm alive because of a good doctor. And all the good ones that came after him because of him.

So, I know they exist. You don't have to tell me that.

But I really fucking need you to acknowledge the bad ones and that you're part of a system with a long, long history of abusing minorities and vulnerable people. I need you to acknowledge that because it's the only way we're going to survive this godforsaken nightmare and make things better.

So yeah, #notalldoctors, but if you feel the need to say that because someone talking about being literally left to die by the medical system hurts your feelings, I'm going to have to ask you to take a step back and ask yourself if you're going into medicine for the right reasons.

Namely: do you want to help people, even the "difficult" ones?

Even the ones who might disagree with you?

Even if they're on welfare?

Even if they'll never get "better" in a way that means "cured"?

Just a thought. But hey, what do I know. I'm just someone who experienced hemolytic anemia because doctors kept telling me I was anxious and needed to exercise more 🤷‍♀️.

[bunnieswithknives]

I love pain and agony

part (2/2): prev

[smoov-criminal]

i just rbed a post about something similar but. i need my white disabled to folks to be more aware of the privileges they have when navigating the healthcare system. every bit of medical ableism one can experience can be made even worse by being a poc. some of us can't threaten to report a doctor to the ethics board, or refuse care from healthcare workers who aren't masking, without jeopardizing our access to care in general or even our physical safety. we are more likely to be seen as drug seeking, or marked as noncompliant, or experience medical abuse and neglect. that's not to say these things don't happen to white disabled people, but i just think it's important to recognize how dangerous receiving medical care can be for disabled poc specifically. please keep this in mind when giving advice on navigating healthcare.

[lazylittledragon]

my absolute favourite genre of transphobic propaganda is when the caption is like “look at this poor, confused little girl who was forced to mutilate herself :(” and the picture is just the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life with a full beard and a body that would make thor weak at the knees

[compassionatereminders]

Hey did y'all ever think about that if doctors blame all fat people's medical issues on them being too fat without proper investigation and then feel justified in neglecting their medical concerns, then statistically more fat people WILL develop and potentially die from serious health issues and it might not actually be because of the fat when everything comes down to it

[dewthorne]

Rutledge Asylum Alice: Madness Returns (2011) dev. Spicy Horse

[nopanamaman]

What’s the deal with Tsar and Arthur?

Today we’ll look at the two most popular members of Sanya and Yura’s friend group, Tsar and Arthur, a.k.a. Anger Management. How did they meet? What’s their life like? And most importantly, why the hell are they so angsty?

Let’s start with the older one.

Arthur Sokolov

Joining the orphanage

Arthur was brought to the orphanage not long after being born. He never met any of his parents.

Growing up in a state-funded shelter meant developing a clear understanding of what kinds of behaviours will and won’t result in getting your shit kicked in. You can’t be too cocky, and you can’t be too weak. Follow the hierarchy, but don’t let your fear of elders show.

Arthur learned to navigate that little society well. He had earned respect among kids his own age and younger, and avoided being pushed around by the older teenagers too much. Less due to a noble heart and more because of being too proud to act like a doormat. 

However, that didn't make him immune to peer pressure.

Correctional psychiatry

Business trip.

Many low-end orphanages across the former USSR had been essentially transformed into incubators for future gang members. “Businessmen”, either by bribe or threat, came to these institutions to recruit impressionable children into their organisations. One such uncle visited Arthur’s foster home.

For kids like him, the course of action was simple:

misbehave;

get sent to a mental institution for corrective treatment;

sneak as many bottles of trihexyphenidyl as you can into your bag during your stay;

leave the hospital as normal;

transfer the trihexyphenidyl to a gang representative and get your paycheck.

Under that business model, Arthur became a frequent guest at psychiatric wards. Having witnessed their indifference and medical callousness firsthand, he had developed a massive disdain for all kinds of mental health professionals.

It started even before joining the gang, of course – way before. It’s hard not to foster a vendetta when you get thrown to the looney bin for any misstep. At first he tried to honestly convince the doctors working there that he was fine, but he eventually realised it was futile: they were always in on the punishment.

Hustling continues

Arthur and Ivan at 15 and 17 respectively.

As Arthur grew older, he got more deeply involved with the gang’s activities alongside other kids. This meant participating in transfers, standing watch during certain deals, acting as a “treasure man” (i.e. hiding drugs in agreed upon places for clients to pick up), and so on. Fights were frequent.

He knew it was a slippery slope, but getting out was not an option – not an easy one, at least. This was the period during which he grew close to Ivan, who was commonly assigned to work with Arthur and other children from their institute.

They bonded on the basis of wanting to leave the business, though for different reasons: most of all, Ivan didn’t want to disappoint his grandma.

Getting out

First meeting with Yura.

The sudden disbandment of the gang was a relief to both Ivan and Arthur. A major member got caught and ratted almost everyone out, except for the dozens of orphans involved. So while Ivan went to turn himself in, Arthur got to walk free.

Before going, Ivan suggested Arthur replace him at his pop’s car repair salon. The boy seemed to have a knack for fixing things, and the two had developed a trusting relationship over their time working together.

While everything was looking fine, Arthur still wanted to destroy all traces of his activities - even those that couldn’t reasonably be tracked down to him. This led to him encountering Yura. Despite the very rocky start of their acquaintance, they went on to hang out together pretty regularly.

As of today, Arthur continues to do part-time at the workshop alongside Ivan. Both are committed to never getting back into the criminal business. Unless you count Sanya's Dynamo. Which you shouldn't. Having experienced what actual gangs are like, Arthur finds it hard not to look down at the girl's little roleplay.

Tsar

Joining the orphanage

Before coming to the orphanage, Tsar lived with his grandma. She died when he was 6. Since his parents had lost their parental rights due to alcoholism a couple years prior, there was only one place for him to go.

Tsar had a very hard time adjusting to the rigid hierarchy of the foster home. He was lucky enough to catch Arthur's attention and, in a sense, got scooped under his wing. The boy disliked relying on the older kid too much, but was too weak to stand on his own.

Gang involvement

How come mom lets you have two trips to the mental ward

Since Arthur got dragged into gang activities earlier than Tsar, the younger kid felt jealous. He, like most other children, fully bought into the romanticised idea of criminal life that was pushed by the uncles visiting the orphanage.

But as years went on, he saw the toll it had begun to take on Arthur. Tsar had taken a couple of correctional trips to mental wards as well, though he'd never participated in any illegal schemes. Those times were bad enough - he couldn't imagine going there again and again on purpose.

By the time Tsar would be old enough to get recruited into the business, Arthur forbade him from it. The kid still wanted to join to prove his worth, to earn his share, to show his guts. But his trust and respect for Arthur were stronger.

As much as he hated the idea, he stuck to the sidelines.

Contact with parents

Teatime with family.

Tsar’s parents reached out to him a couple years after he was transferred to the orphanage. He could only meet with them under supervision up until he was 13 years old. Afterwards they were allowed private meetings.

Today, he occasionally comes to visit them at their apartment. They still drink, but to Tsar, they just seem quiet and pitiful. He usually lends them the pocket money he receives from the orphanage. He knows they won't return it.

Anger Management

Ural models are known for their incredible durability and a baffling number of switches.

Tsar found a creative release in music and wrote songs to vent his frustrations. The orphanage had an old acoustic guitar that he learned to play, but it got completely broken when the boy was 13. After Arthur joined the workshop, he bought a black Ural from Ivan’s dad for cheap, upgraded its port, and gifted it to Tsar.

As it turned out, Ivan’s dad was hopping from one band to another in the 80s-90s, so he was happy to accommodate the kids' creative endeavours. He allowed them to use the spare garage space to practise and even supplied an incomplete drum set.

Tsar begged Arthur to back him up with drums. The latter begrudgingly agreed to learn them, but ended up really enjoying hitting barrels with sticks. Right now their band has a tiny local following, mostly in the face of Sanya Kazarina.

Some notes

I remember sitting down and reading about actual orphanage experiences in the post-soviet space – it was eye-opening, but also gave me a lot of material to work with, as heartless as that probably sounds. A lot of things simply clicked into place.

I didn't go into too much detail here, but FYI, I've downplayed the severity of certain situations. Trauma aside, I'd say both Tsar and Arthur got quite lucky in the end.

[teaboot]

How do Canadian schools teach about indigenous Canadian history and culture? -a curious USAmerican

In my experience we learned about colonization at the same time as we learned about the formation of Canada. At first it was "European settlers came and pushed out the indigenous population", then in the higher grades we learned more about the how and the why.

For example, how carts full of men with rifles would ride around shooting Buffalo, then leaving the meat on the ground to rot, because "a dead Buffalo is a dead indian", which was so fanatical it almost wiped out wild Buffalo entirely

Also how Canadian settlers were lured in with beautiful hand-painted advertisements for cheap, beautiful, fertile land that was unpopulated and perfect, if only you'd sail over with your entire family and a pocket full of seeds- only to be met with scared, confused, and angry lawful inhabitants already run out of ten other places, and frigid winters, and rocky, forested, undeveloped dirt.

also, smallpox blankets, where "gifts" of blankets infected with smallpox were intentionally given out

And treaty violations- Either ignoring written agreements entirely, or buying them out at insanely low prices and lying about the value, or trading for farming equipment that they couldn't use because they weren't farmers.

Then in the first world war, where they told indigenous peoples here that they'd be granted Canadian citizenship if they enlisted

To Residential schools, which was straight up stealing kids for slavery, indoctrination, and medical experiments

But we also covered the building of the Canadian Railway in which Chinese immigrants were lowered into ravines with dynamite to blow out paths through the mountain for pennies on the dollar

And the Alberta Sterilization Act, where it was lawful and routine procedure to sterilize women of colour and neurodivergent people without their awareness or consent after giving birth or undergoing unrelated surgeries

But I'm rambling.

We kind of learned Aboriginal history at the same time as everything else? Like. This is when Canada was made, and this is how it was done. Now we'll read a book about someone who lived through it, and we'll write a book report. And now a documentary, and now a paper about the documentary. Onto the next unit.

And starting I think in grade 10 our English track was split between English and Aboriginals English, where you could choose to do the standard curriculum or do the same basic knowledge stuff with a focus on Aboriginal perspectives and literature. (I did that one, we read Three Day's Road and Diary Of A Part-Time Indian, and a few other titles I don't remember.)

There was also a lunch room for the Aboriginal Culture Studies where Aboriginal kids could hang out at lunch time if they wanted, full of art and projects and stuff. They'd play music or videos sometimes, that was cool

And one elective I took (not mandatory cirriculum) was a Kwakiutl course for basic Kwakwakaʼwakw language. Greetings, counting to a hundred, learning the modified alphabet, animals, etc. Still comes in handy sometimes at large gatherings cause they usually start with a land recognition thanking whoever's land we're on, with a few thanks and welcomes in their language.

And like- when I was in the US it was so weird, cause here we have Totem poles and longhouses and murals all over and yall... don't? Like there is a very distinct lack of Aboriginal art in your public spaces, at least in the areas I've been

My ex-stepfather, who was American, brought his son out once, and he was so excited to "see real indians" and was legitimately shocked to learn that there weren't many teepees to be found on the northwest coast, and was even *more* shocked when we told him that you have Aboriginal people back home too, bud. Your Aboriginal people are also named "Mike" snd "Vicky" and work as assistant manager at best buy.

If you'd ask me, I'd say that the primary difference is that USAmerica (from what I've seen, and ALSO in entirely too much of Canada) treats our European and Aboriginal conflicts as history, something that's tragic but over, like the extinction of the mammoths, instead of like. An ongoing thing involving people who are alive and numerous and right fucking here

But at the end of the day, I'm white, and there are plenty of actual Aboriginal people who are speaking out and saying much more meaningful things than I can

So I'm just gonna pass on a quote from my Stepmum, who's Cree, that's stuck with me since she said it:

"You see how they treat Mexicans in America? That's how they treat us here. Indians are the Mexicans of Canada."

[cartoonscientist]

I feel like one of the most insidious types of sanism is this thing I’ve noticed lately where mentally ill people report that their doctors just refuse to treat them or acknowledge their health problems, especially GI doctors; they’ll refuse to read the patient chart, tell the patient they’re lying about their officially recorded diagnoses and test results, and insist they see a therapist instead when usually the patient has been in therapy for years already

my own GI doctor refused to treat my ulcers or hernia or test me for gastroparesis after multiple scope exams and told me it’s all in my head, and my GP is currently gaslighting me about not having scoliosis and never having it on my record when I have actual adaptive devices prescribed to me

only my psychiatrist and therapist, dermatologist, pulmonologist, gynecologist and physical therapists take me seriously as a mature and cognizant person

this is really disturbing to me for obvious reasons

[auschizm]

I'm sorry, but I just don't think jokes about lobotomies are funny. I don't think the deliberate physical destruction of millions of mentally ill and mentally disabled people's brains, often without consent, frequently just to make them easier to manhandle, is a laughing matter. I think it's a humanitarian tragedy

[thebibliosphere]

Remembering a 'fun' moment through the haze of drugs yesterday when I asked the nurse for something to brace my knees with because I could feel my hips starting to dislocate when they turned me onto my side.

The nurse, god love her, got down to my eye level on the gurney and very sweetly told me that when joints click, they're not actually dislocating, and it's just ligaments sliding over each other causing gas pockets to crackle and pop. This is true for most people and is actually what makes that satisfying crunch sound when you go see the chiropractor. So I knew right away she was thinking, "A chiropractor has told her this; this will be an Educational Moment."

Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out how to tell her I know this, and that's not what is happening as a teeth guard was being slipped between my teeth when my GI doctor went, "Did you not read the note I put in her file? She has EDS. When she says it's her joints, it's her joints. Listen to the patient!"

He then showed her how to hold my shoulders in place while he was doing the upper endoscopy exam so my shoulder wouldn't randomly slip out and make my chest muscles seize. As I was laying on my side and he was double checking my position he leaned in and let me know with a wink that he'd asked a physical therapist what to do and hopefully I wouldn't be in too much pain with my joints tomorrow. (I am not.)

He also brought an extra nurse in from the allergy department (Sam) to monitor for signs of anaphylaxis because, apparently, it looks different when the patient is sedated. The fact that I "woke up" from my sedation (I don't think I actually fell asleep) and gave him a thumbs up when he announced "excellent prep" to the room at large made some of the nurses flutter because they'd given me enough fentanyl to knock out a horse, but I have a vague memory of the allergy nurse and the GI doctor sharing a look over the top of my head before starting to talk to me in calm measured tones to let me know it was okay that I was awake, but I needed to stop moving. Was I in any pain? Could I squeeze Sam's hand once for no and twice for yes? Okay, good, we're almost done...

It was a weird but validating experience.