What I Am Up To…

Well, this year hasn’t been the best. But it hasn’t been the worst either. I can honestly say I am looking forward to therapy on the 7th though. February was just my shit month which is why I haven’t posted.

The biggest thing was that my cat, Gizmosis, died. I was devastated. I am dealing with it okay, I think. I am not sobbing daily anymore. I just get a bit teary eyed now. Here is the last picture I have of him.

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Tattoos!

To start out the month, it was going okay. I have my new tattoo gun (actually two of them – one for lining and one for shading), needles, ink, transfer paper, and everything I need to start learning how to tattoo. I did my first tattoo just above my knee. for a first, it wasn’t horrible. I do have a long way to go though. I tattooed one person for practice. As soon as I have more needles, I will be able to practice more. 

Therapy and hurting myself (not like that!)

Then I went to therapy where I discussed a lot of my plans and I talked about stuff that bugged me. I showed off my stupidly long scarf. Then I mentioned walking home. I was thinking of calling my son to come get me because it rained and the ground was freezing. As I left, I changed my mind because I needed exercise.

I walked home because I thought maybe I would feel more invigorated and then I could blog! I needed to do that. I hadn’t posted anything. As I walked, the ground became less “a little icy” and more “a solid sheet of ice”. I walked slowly across the roads and then walked on the snow because it was crunchy and had texture and the ice would give way so I had a little bit of traction. This was going well until I was about half way home.

I was crossing the road and decided to walk in some truck tracks for more traction. That was kind of okay for about two steps, next thing I know, I am face down on the road. Oh. My. God. The pain didn’t quite hit right away. In fact, I didn’t really feel anything wrong until I tried to get up. That is when I knew I done fucked up. I had to slide myself over to a snow berm to crawl up so I could get up. Walking the rest of the way home was more like limping very slowly.

Since then, my shoulder is still really messed up. My knee healed but my shoulder is really messed up. I had an MRI yesterday and I’ll find out Monday how that is. But I am able to use it a very little. At least now I can type again without crying. That’s a plus!

Still Looking for Work

I am still looking for work but now I am thinking work at home is my only option. I have talked with a few people about moving but I want that to be my last resort. If I can make $800 a month, I can pay all my bills and survive. So right now, that is my goal… no matter how small it is.

I’m making myself available as a virtual assistant, working on illustrations for a children’s book (which I learned how to do!), and hopefully will have one done and ready to publish soon.

At first I was saying by the end of March but I don’t think that will happen. My plan for now is to have the draft ready by the end of March and to have a book ready to publish by mid-April. This is my very first illustration I attempted. I just grabbed the first picture I found and did it. I created two styles and I kind of like them both. Here are the samples. But first, the original picture.

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The Original Picture
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I like this style.
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My first illustration!

First lesson learned? I need to really brighten the pictures so they look better as the illustrations. But I do like the styles.

I also found a company that I can back that I will be selling products from. It’s a health and wellness business. And I am trying to find my Mark make-up seller information. I know I have it I just can’t find it.

Between all those, something has to give! 

And back to Blogging

Now that I can type again, I will be blogging more. Probably not daily but my goal is to write a little something every day and then post when it’s long enough. I’ll have a post about twice a week if I can keep it up and still be able to work on my other projects. 

YouTube?

I was asked if I am still going to do YouTube videos. I really want to! But that may just have to remain a hobby for now. Let me get the promising stuff done first, then I’ll think about YouTube.

Okay, now I need to get back to focusing on work. 

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I have the best friends! Facebook is not one of them.

Thursday was hard for me. It was therapy day so I got to talk about some of the things I am doing, things that are bothering me, and how I am going to be a nomadic hermit. Is that a thing? Because I feel like I could make that a thing.

Then I got home and exhaustion hit again. I slept some more. Got up feeling all emotional and went to Facebook to see anything happy. Here is a list of people I follow and why:

  • Sister-in-laws and brothers raising their babies
  • Friends raising their kids.
  • Sisters and brothers because I love seeing what fun stuff is going on in their lives.
  • My mom because she is super awesome!
  • My nieces and nephews (all 300 kajillion of them) who are adults now because it is fun to see the people they are growing into.
  • A friend I have known since I was 13 post about her cats (I love cats!) and her son.
  • Various family members for their blogs, positivity, fun posts, happy quotes, etc.
  • A friend who updates on her friend’s babies health struggles. I follow the friend and the child’s family life story as it unfolds.
  • ProBlogger because he is inspiring.
  • Friends around town because I like to see what they are up to and usually it’s positive.
  • Cracked.com because… comedy! And I am officially a “Purveyor of Dick Jokes” on their site.
  • Cabinet Peaks Medical Center and other places around town because I want to feel connected to my community.

So I hop onto Facebook and what do I see in my news feed? Not one positive thing at all. Every post was racist, homophobic, xenophobic, misogynistic, and flat out mean spirited. I tried adjusting my news feed to “most recent” and got the same posts. I scrolled down until the posts started repeating. I refreshed the page. Nope, still the same freaking posts. Here is a sample of what they were:

  • A post about how horrible gay people are with a comment about how he should have been allowed to finish the job. (I am bisexual. This was beyond offensive.)
  • A post about a stabbing in another country.
  • A post about how we need to ban knives if we are going to ban guns.
  • A post about the evils of transgender people.
  • An argument between to grown-ass men about whether an AR-15 is an assault weapon or not; and whether it should be banned or if families should be allowed to own one for hunting and protection… complete with name calling.
  • A post about how Trump is right and will fix all this by kicking all the (I forget who but I think it was Muslims) out of the country.

It just kept going and seemed to get worse the further down I went. Not one update about family, friends, humor columns, blog writing, cats, loving people, gay pride, etc. Nothing. Not one damned positive thing. I had to go to specific profile pages to see anything positive and when I returned to the news feed, it was the same hateful diatribe that it was before.

I ended up thinking to myself that I needed to just get off of there and do something else. But first, I posted this status update

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What happened next?

I worked on a post when a chrome notification popped up that a cousin had replied to my post. I thought, “Well, it’s my post… so I’ll go look.” We chatted for a few rounds and went back to the post.

I saw another notification pop up and it is someone who is really funny. He replied to my post. I had to see what funny thing he posted and this is what he left.

-3  Dotchi Latham   Okay. I am done with social media for the day. I...

I laughed so hard! Thank you, Zack! I can always count on you to make me laugh.

Then I started getting tagged in various post comments around Facebook. Space things, beautiful pictures, inspiring stories, and a hilarious video of round animals. Along with this comment posted to the status.

2Dotchi Latham   Okay. I am done with social media for the day. I....jpeg

Someone else sent me private messages about her health update and it was super positive! Then we sent GIF animations to each other, getting sillier and sillier as time went on.

My mom sent a happy meme that made me smile…

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And I had someone text me privately to make sure I was okay.

I can’t tell you how much that all meant to me. You guys are all so awesome. I have the best support network.

About an hour later, my news feed was back to how it usually is. Some happy, some funny, some hateful, some gay pride, some babies, some love, some silly pictures, and everything looked great.

Was this another Facebook experiment?

Knowing that Facebook has done experiments on their users before, I have to wonder if this wasn’t some fucked up Facebook experiment. Things like this is why I am starting to steer clear of Facebook.

If this is some Facebook experiment, they are seriously fucked up for doing shit like this to people who suffer from depression, anxiety, and mood disorders. Are they trying to coax people into killing themselves?

I am not suicidal… but let’s say someone was suicidal and they logged onto Facebook for support, looking for something to cheer them up, and give them a reason to live. And let’s pretend that they logged in during a particularly hateful news feed spread like what I experienced.

Who’s to say that isn’t the last straw that pushes them over the edge and makes them actually kill themselves?

As for me?

My mental health is too precious for me. I will go on Facebook a couple times a day but I won’t be on as much. I can’t handle it. If Facebook would quit treating people like lab rats, then I would consider being more active. Until then, I have to protect myself.

What it’s Like to Witness Death

I am doing laundry today and decided to take a mini-break and watch a YouTube video. I usually look for something fun and upbeat so I don’t know why I clicked on the Buzzfeed video “What It’s Like to Witness Death“. It got me thinking about all the times I witnessed death.

Watching this, I felt so bad for the girl who saw her friend’s brother die by being crushed by a log. Her reactions as she told the story just broke my heart.

What It’s Like To Witness Death   YouTube
I just want to hug her!

The first time was when my son died at five days old in my arms. Other times were as a Nurse Assistant in nursing homes. I think that working there, while it was a great experience, really messed with my head. I witnessed so much death that it became a sobering reminder of how cruel this world can be.

The worst one I can think of.

The one that haunts me to this day was a lady. We’ll call her Myrtle (because I suck at picking random names.)

I always had this philosophy about caring for people who were mean. Every day was a new day. So greet them like you would a friend because maybe they were just having a bad day the last time. And always treat them kindly, no matter what. Myrtle tested me on this every time.

Myrtle was a crotchety old bat. She was mean, verbally and physically abusive, and wheelchair bound. Every time I had her, I had to get help because she just hated me. There were days she took her mean streak to evil levels. I never hated any of my residents… but I was getting close to it with her.

Then she took a turn for the worse. She lingered for a couple of weeks and we thought she would die any day. Every time we took care of her, changed her, or anything else, she would throw weak punches and cuss us out in a whisper and then pass out from the effort.

Toward the end of her life, I actually felt so bad for her and grew to feel for her. I went home each night and cried a little because it was so taxing to watch.

The last day, I went in to check on her because it was obvious she wasn’t making it much longer. She looked me dead in the eyes with a panic look on her face and said, “I need a preacher before I die.”

I am a reverend  and I told her that I am. I was worried she wouldn’t want to talk to a female reverend but she motioned me over. I was expecting her knuckles to crack my jaws or something, but no. She asked me to hold her so she could confess her sins so she could get into heaven.

I immediately sat down next to her and took her into my arms and then asked her to tell me why she thought she wouldn’t get into heaven. The things she said in the next 15 minutes… holy shit. I was blown away. I can’t put them here (confidential) but it was bad.

In 15 minutes she went from a crotchety old bat to someone who had a shittier life than I could imagine. Suddenly her hatred for everyone and everything made so much sense. I genuinely felt pain for her.

She started crying and said she was so sorry for being so mean to me all those times. She did like me but didn’t want me to like her because she didn’t want to get close to anyone. I told her I forgave her. How could I not?!

As she told all this, it seemed like some of her strength had come back. Not a lot but enough to move easier. It was like she was lifting a burden off herself.

Then we prayed together holding hands and asking for forgiveness. I even asked for forgiveness for her for anything she may have forgotten to mention and anything in her past.

She looked up at me when we were done and asked, “Do you really think I can go to heaven?”

I tasked her, “Do you feel like you have repented? Do you feel like you have God’s forgiveness.”

Her eyes welled with tears and she nodded saying, “I really do.”

I told her that I felt she would go to heaven then. She said thank you, smiled the only sincere smile I ever saw her smile, and wrapped her arms around my neck for a big hug. She gave me a big squeeze of a hug and muttered, “Thank you.” into my neck… then she died.

I had a moment of panic, checked her vitals, got the nurse (who confirmed she had passed), freaked out a little because she died on my shoulder (and really, the whole experience of it), and then went outside to calm down… nurses orders.

What I Remember Now

To this day, I still remember her. But I don’t remember her for the mean, abusive lady she was. I remember that smile. I remember the moment she looked like she had the weight of the world lifted off her shoulders. I remember that hug.

I remember the scared little lady who thought she was going to burn in hell. I remember the kindness in her eyes. I remember the warmth of her voice as she told me everything she regretted and felt bad about.

But mostly, I remember her kind smile and the relief that I forgave her for being mean to me. That totally reshaped how I saw people, especially mean people. It changed the way I forgave people.

That whole experience changed me into who I am today and I think it made me a better person.

So, thank you, “Myrtle”. I hope you found your heaven and it was all you dreamed it would be.

 

I am home! And exhausted! And I need to Ramble Post!

We made it home just fine. I am still exhausted from the heat and Benadryl. I have not been on that much Benadryl in a long time. I woke up each morning and took 50 mg of Benadryl. Then every drink I had (Pepsi, water, coffee, etc) had a 50 mg Benadryl mixed into it. And there were still days that my tongue and throat felt like it was swelling. My ankles and feet swelled from the heat so much that I could not put my crocs on. Don’t judge me. I have them for when my feet swell. Only I ended up wearing slipper socks because my feet wear so swollen my oversize crocs were too tight.

I spent most of the time in the apartment either crocheting, browsing Facebook, or playing Minecraft… and becoming seriously depressed. I spent a lot of time choking down tears and reminding myself that it was temporary and I would be going home soon. I have to say, the semi-colon project popped into my head a lot. I wasn’t suicidal! I want to stress that. Sometimes the semi-colon just reminds me that I can keep going because I have done it again and again… and when it looks horrible, it will get better.

Which brings me to this week. I am coming down off the Benadryl. I lost 3 pounds since I got home two days ago. I feel better pain wise and swelling wise but I still hurt enough that I am still choking down tears… even on Marijuana. I think I need to take extra doses. If I had the money, I would do that.

Today I have am appointment about my swelling and I am going to talk to my doctor about how I can’t get up for too long without my ankles swelling. I’ll see how it goes.

Wednesday I will be a bundle of nerves. I have my disability hearing. I just wonder how much Dr Vindictive screwed me over with his calling all my doctors, lying, and labeling me with a mental illness I don’t have.  I keep hearing, “Oh you will get it this time! No problem!” But I am really disheartened and I have a seriously hard time believing it. If I don’t get disability, well, I will cry for about a week and then I’ll get my big girl panties on and… plan on homelessness. I do have a year or two before it will become a reality. I will have to file bankruptcy. I would say I would be hitting rock bottom but I am already there. I’ll just have to start decorating the bottomless pit and call it “no hope/ no job/ and no one will hire me”.

So, either the blog will start directing to more happy things that make me smile or I’ll start posting my preparedness of getting my van ready to live in. I am actually looking forward to it. No sarcasm. I have worked myself into excitement over the idea of living in a smaller space that will be easier to keep up with and having my own smaller home.

On Thursday I have therapy. I am going to be a bundle of nerves. This month has been hell on me. I have no idea of my future and I do not like asking for help.

I am still trying to think of things I can do to make money. Serious things. I am crocheting but if I made a scarf, I would have to sell it for like $50 to make any money at it. None of them really made it affordable for the buyer and NO ONE here wants to pay for your time, much less the materials. So I figured the prices at minimum wage ($8.05 here), $10 an hour, and $15 an hour. If it’s $8.05 then I will add in the material prices (of the yarn, I already have needles). At the other two, I will just eat the cost of materials.

A dishcloth took me an hour to make. I don’t think any dishcloth is worth $8.05 or $10 or $15. I may be undervaluing myself or my skill but would you buy a dishcloth for $8?

A scarf took me about four hours to make. Would you pay $32 for a scarf? Or $40? Or $60?

I decided to make a fun little lap blanket. It has taken me DAYS to make. By the time I am finished, my price just for my time will be something like $320 or $400 or $600. No one is going to buy a lap blanket for that price. Or would they?

I am just feeling like a failure. Well, not really a failure because I know I have talent and I do think I do a good job at things but nothing I do will realistically make me enough money to actually pay my bills.

I get really excited once in a while about something but it quickly fades as I realize the amount of opposition I am up against. Unless I charge like $3 an hour, I am not going to sell anything. I would have to live in my van anyway.

And if I don’t get disability, I am going to feel like a complete failure. I tried finding a job. But no one will hire me (I wouldn’t hire me). I tried applying at three places I know hire disabled people. They won’t even hire me because I am too much of a liability.

I tried pep talks like, “You can do it! You can find SOMETHING you can do for work… Hell, even your aunt with Downs Syndrome has a job.” Then it dawned on me. Even my relatives with disabilities have jobs and I am still over here like, “Hey can I borrow another $5? I ran out of soap and toilet paper.”

I am depressed. I’ll be totally honest. I cry a lot these days. My eyes burn from the tears now. But I keep thinking it will get better. The only thing is, it doesn’t get better. Talent is nice and all but it doesn’t pay the bills. Sure, I can make cool things but I wouldn’t make enough money to keep a cheap apartment much less pay the bills.

So… Wednesday either I can calm down and relax or I have a good breakdown and then plan to be homeless. Either way, I am due for a really good cry with snot bubbles and all.

50 Questions: A Deep Dark Secret

Share a secret you’ve never told anyone. Until now…

I was pondering this question for a while. I am an open and honest person. Sometimes to the point of it being a fault of mine. If you ask me a question, I will tell you the answer. It might not be the answer you were looking for, but I will tell you anyway. After all, you asked for it! So, I thought about all the secrets I could tell you guys.

Had a son who died because I took him off life support… nope, already told that.

All my medical conditions… talk about them all the time.

My children… talk about them all the time too.

My ex… talk about him some too.

There really isn’t anything very secretive about me at all. And then I had a conversation with someone (who wishes not to be named on my blog) about life, death, poverty, and self-image; and it hit me! I know what secrets I am going to share. I say secrets because they go hand in hand. Get the happy pills ready… here we go!

Death is not an end

This isn’t really a huge secret. Many people believe in an afterlife. But I do remember things that aren’t from this life. I remember them vividly. I have had out of body experiences and near death experiences. I can tell you that is what shaped my beliefs, partly. This is why I would never commit suicide. You can kill your body, but the soul continues on and you will be reborn into something or someone. Your energy is what makes you who you are. Not so much the body. The body is just a physical experience you claim before you are born.

Call me crazy all you want but, I warned you about that when I called my blog “Crazy Woman’s Journal“.

Let’s say you have a shitty life and you decide to off yourself. You will get to redo the life over again. Maybe not the exact same life, but one with similar problems. You can get a new life here in this time or in an alternate universe. It won’t matter if you kill yourself because you will get to redo it over and over until you live the life you are supposed to complete.

Analogy time! Your life is a series of books…

It would be like if your life were a series of books. You were reading through the books and decided in book 3 that you didn’t want to read them anymore and threw them in the trash. You went to the life library and picked a new set of books and started reading. But damn it! These books are following the same story line as the last series. You toss that set in the trash too and go back for another series to read.

This next series is JUST like the last two series. Same type of characters, same settings, and I swayer to you, the story is the same as the first two. Only this time you begrudgingly finish reading the series to learn something amazing, some life altering experience that you didn’t expect.

So, while the books sucked at first, and droned on in some areas, and one chapter just described a cat’s fur, the story line (as a whole) has a purpose.

That purpose sometimes sucks

While some lives are meant to change something or be amazing, other lives are a form of punishment. I call this idea “The Good, the bad, and the ugly”.

The Good

Some people get to have amazing lives with “demons” they still have to battle or overcome. They might create a mega-company that changes the world. They might become doctors who revolutionize cancer treatments. They might be some guy who discovers something great but it’s not recognized in this life. They might be an artist who touches many. There are so many great lives people can live.

The Bad

Then there are the shitty lives where you just seem to suffer, can never get ahead, or spend the rest of your life in jail or as a slave. These lives aren’t pointless though. They have meaning too. They serve a purpose. Sometimes they are for you to learn some lesson about hardship.

Like, how to live frugally… or how to survive in the mountains after a government overthrow… or how to live homeless… or how you can survive living in chronic pain even though it sucks ass… or to teach you to stand up for yourself when you have lived an oppressed life… or how to change your way of thinking and not be so closed-minded… or a chance to fight in a revolution and help make a change.

The Ugly

It can also be a punishment. It’s a life meant for paying a karmic debt, for lack of a better word.

Let’s say that you had a life where you decided to try making lamp shades out of your friend’s skin and stew out of there brains and vital organs. In that life, you got away with it and caused a lot of pain to many people, not just the one’s you killed off and consumed. Their families, their friends, the community, the state, the nation… everyone who was effected by your murderous, carnivorous, interior decorating spree adds to your karmic debt.

If, in that life, you were caught, went to jail, found remorse, and tried to better yourself; your karmic debt would be less. But that life, you managed to evade police, killed a puppy or ten for fun, set random fires that no one linked to you, and basically were just a psychopathic asshole. Your karmic debt would probably follow you through several lives of becoming Mother Teresa or Princess Di before you would be out of karmic debt.

Not all karmic debt if that extreme though. Sometimes you just suffer through a disease but end up beating it because your karmic debt is paid. Or you have a series of bad things happen but nothing that sends you to a padded room. It’s things that you survive and make it through… and then you help others get through the same thing and your karmic debt gets better each time.

Basically, it’s complicated.

Deep Dark Secret #2: My Karmic Debt

I sometimes jokingly say that whatever I did in my last life must have been horrible to deserve such a shit life like this. But honestly, I don’t think it was really that bad because I could have it much worse. 

I do honestly think that this life is here as part of a karmic debt and part as a lesson that I have not figured out yet. Whatever I did in a past life wasn’t heinous like the murderous example above but it hurt a lot of people nonetheless and now I am paying my debt.

I am assuming here… It probably has something to do with medical since I am living with so many medical problems and I have a hard time with doctors treating me horrible. It probably has something to do with affection since I have trouble bonding with people. Or maybe those are just random forms of punishment that were doled out it has nothing to do with that at all.

Anyway, I do believe that this life is a punishment (for lack of a better word) where I am paying my karmic debt. I have trouble seeing myself as anything good which, I think, is part of the debt. People tell me I am talented, amazing, and all sorts of amazing things but I just can’t see it. I wish that for one day, I could see myself through someone else’s eyes.

Here is a minor example. I drew this picture of my cat, Sweetie. People say it is amazing and I did a great job. I don’t see it. I don’t see why it is so good. I can see all my mistakes though.

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I think the disconnection I feel is just a part of my karmic debt. I can connect just enough so that I am not completely isolated emotionally. But, if I bond with someone or get close to them, they are taken away in one form or another. I am supposed to be alone this life (this much I know). At some point I may bond with someone and they won’t disappear, and then I will know my karmic debt is paid. It may not happen in this life. If it doesn’t, then I know it will happen early in my next life and we will be very close.

Until then, I only have enough bonding to keep me from going insane. When I meet a person that I instantly feel like I could bond with, I find myself pushing them away. Not because I don’t want to have a bond with people but because I don’t want my friends to keep dying off at an amazing rate and in violent manners. I imagine that the person who pushes back and won’t go away… I imagine that is the person that will help me see my worth and finally have my debt paid.

So, if you are my friend and wonder why I tend to run away and not get close to you, this is why. It’s my punishment. And I am sorry for it but I don’t know how to change it, or make it better, or make my friends stop disappearing, or make them stop dying, or make them stay without clinging to them so much that they start to hate me. But mostly, I am sorry.

I don’t know what karmic debt I am repaying but I hurt someone really bad and now, I am paying for it with this life. There are no words that can convey my sorrow.

Identity Theft

As if I needed more stress in my life…

My lawyer for disability called me to talk to me about my disability hearing. At this point, I am just trying to prepare myself for another denial because I can’t even get my hopes off the ground. I am seriously getting depressed from the Cabinet Peaks Debacle and no income. I actually started crying more and more. I just can’t help it. And pills won’t help because pills don’t pay my bills or give me a future. I can’t even afford pills! Because I have no money!

Yup Im Poor T_T by hakunamatata   Meme Center

SO, when she called, I was expecting a chat about my conditions, or my hearing, or something. We did get started on that. But before that, she asked about my $7000 income from 2013/2014 from Playa Builders Inc in Culver City, CA. I drew a blank because I didn’t have income in 2013/2014 and I’ve never worked at/for/with Playa Builders Inc. She then looked a little more and she said that it was different name, not mine. Mike Segura. I don’t know anyone named Mike Segura.

Now I get to spend the next weekend having an anxiety attack and filling out reports and going to the police station because… meh, like I have anything better to do!

This year has had it ups… not many of them… but damn are the downs getting obnoxious! Can I have something NICE happen now? Like, I dunno… can I meet a nice boyfriend/girlfriend or something or win the lottery? I am very good with finances! I can stretch that winnings out to the rest of my life and donate to charity too!

WHY? Why me? 

Britney bad year

Cabinet Peaks Medical Center Resolution?

After weeks of digging for the reason I have a mental illness added to my chart; and I think we came to a solution.

Let me just clarify before I continue, I am still NOT going back to Cabinet Peaks Medical Center’s emergency room if I am conscious and coherent (and probably incoherent too).

Anywhoodles, I called and talked to the same guy, we’ll still call him George still. I explained that I had filed a complaint against Dr N before and I was still having an issue with him. He asked what had happened and I gave a quick run down of what happened before and the lack of a response that I got as a “resolution”. Since I can’t find it posted on my blog, I will give you all a quick run down. Ready?

The FUBAR Situation

On 23 March 2015 I went to the emergency room for seizures that would start, stop, and then come back within minutes. I was hesitant to go to the ER because of stories I have heard about partial seizures being non-treated here. But after calling Nurse First and still feeling very off, I went into the ER.

I saw Dr N and I it was like being in the Twilight Zone. He refused to hear what I was saying, they ignored the low O2 alarm that occasionally went off because my oxygen would drop down for a few seconds then come back up (lowest my son saw was 50-something and the lowest I saw was 67), and then he checked to see how kidney function was doing.

So, I don’t know how he connected kidney function with seizures… I wouldn’t have thought of checking that. But he did and my kidneys are fine. Not that I thought there was an issue. He came in at one point and mentioned my “dissociating” but I wasn’t dissociating! It was like, no matter what I said he would not hear what I was saying. He was so stuck on “I don’t understand these symptoms you are having” that he could not hear me say, “I AM HAVING SEIZURES THAT KEEP COMING BACK!” Even in my chart he put that I came in “for an unusual sensation that is hard to describe.” WTF? I am pretty sure this guy is either on drugs or perma-fried because it was completely surreal trying to get him to listen. It was like talking to someone about cooking who was only interested in discussing auto mechanics.

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And when I snapped and said “I am having seizures” again and he said “well, I don’t know how to treat those.” WTF? How are you an emergency room doctor and you don’t know how to treat seizures? How? That should be like emergency room knowledge 101.

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He went back to bed (charted) and the nurses released me because I can sit at home and be ignored just as well as I can be ignored sitting in the hospital. I do need to throw in here that Nurse J (the guy) was great and Nurse J (the woman) was the most attentive I have ever seen a nurse be at this hospital. In hindsight, I was impressed. During the visit though, I felt so off and randomly out of it that I could barely think (or read… how embarrassing. I swear Ms Nurse J, I can read better than that!)

The Next Day: All Hell Breaks Loose

As I was resting the next day, I get a phone call. It was Dr N calling to tell me he couldn’t figure out what my symptoms were from. I was a little blown away about the call because he wasn’t calling to see if I was okay, I would have been fine with that. I have had other doctors call to make sure I was okay. I am totally okay with them making sure I didn’t go home and immediately die. But he wasn’t calling to check on me at all. He was calling to tell me he didn’t know what those symptoms were, oh and he called my doctors and told them I am not taking my medication (when I was) and had them change my medication to something they all agreed I should be on (that I am against for religious reasons). I was so fucking livid.

Then he tries to set up an EEG and called me about that. He was like “I was going to have them schedule you for today but they had two openings (or maybe it was one?) and they said you would have to call.” WTF? So now you make my appointments for me too? Oh hell no! We aren’t doing this. You are not my health care advocate. You couldn’t even treat me for seizures and now you take over my health care?

And then he calls my psychologist and tells her I wasn’t taking my medication and how he just didn’t understand what was going on with me and on and on.

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I finally went to the hospital and filed a complaint after I finally lost it and snapped at my CMA on the phone. I am so SO sorry T*. I still can’t have my house phone ring without going into a full blown panic attack. The thought of the hospital makes me so mad.

And now to the bullshit

After that complaint, I got the lamest letter that says, basically… paraphrasing here… “We’re sorry for your shitty experience but he doesn’t practice retaliation. He feels really bad about it though.” Out of the whole thing that is what they got? Really? No reprimand? At the least a little write up with a “You can’t act like a patient’s advocate and lie to their doctor” or anything like that? … Fine. Permanently lost me as a patient.

Then this happened. Read about it here. I mean, you couldn’t have asked for a worse experience. Turns out, I linked it back to Dr N. He diagnosed me with a mental illness without telling me or my psychologist or my doctor or anyone for that matter.

And back to the phone call

So I tell George that we tracked it back to Dr N. We had to audit my damned chart in order to find it but, three weeks later, after digging through charts in two hospitals, a clinic, and a specialist office… after having so many searching with me that they probably thought I really was crazy, we found it. He added it on the 24th of March at 0532. They told me that to have it removed, I would have to talk to Dr N about it.

Not wanting to encourage him to harass me or call my house or have any other way of wrecking havoc on my life, I decided to call “George” and explain it to him. He said he wasn’t sure if he was working that day or not. Wait. What? You are the head of the emergency department and you don’t know who is working? Well… okay…

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I gave him the run down of what happened. He tried to defend Dr N. So I kept explaining that this is causing issues with my care with other doctors and I was told to talk to Dr N and I do not want to and asked if he would talk to him. He tried to defend him again and then started saying “He will probably say that he really thinks you have this.” or something to that effect. He even had the balls to tell me that Dr N doesn’t HAVE to tell anyone that he diagnosed me with that. (BULLSHIT! It is my patient’s right to know my diagnosis and not have to fucking spend weeks digging through records to find out about it.)

And that is when I decided to screw being nice and lay it out on the line for him, being totally real…

I told him, “Okay, look! I am about to call the state on you, your hospital, the doctor and everyone involved. I don’t care what you THINK he might say. I want to know WHY he diagnosed me with a mental illness when I don’t even meet the criteria for it.” or something to that affect. I am pretty sure I cussed at that point because I was quite pissed.

I didn’t call asking for someone to be Dr N’s right hand man and stick up for him. I wanted answers and they weren’t being given to me. At this point, I don’t give a rats ass what George thinks, I want to know why Dr N diagnosed me. Period. And why he didn’t tell anyone about the diagnosis. Period. That is what I want to know. I don’t want to hear excuses. I want answers.

So he says he’ll get right on that and will call me right back.

Another lame excuse, or “Do I look stupid to you?”

He calls me back and says that Dr N did not enter it into my chart. The EHR auto-populated my chart with that diagnosis and it happened to other people too. He then said he removed it from my chart or record, I can’t remember the wording. And was so sorry that happened. I call bullshit.

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So I explained that while that was nice and all, it doesn’t solve my issue with my specialists who now think I am malingering because I have a “mental illness”. He said he would call them and explain what happened. I got the number and called him back with that.

He then calls again and said that MB wasn’t in the office but he would be back Monday. Has a sticky note at eye level and all and will make sure it is done. And then he concluded with, “I just want you to know we are taking this very very seriously.” Well it’s about damned time.

So I told him Thank you and that I appreciated that, because I really do.

And now…

And now, I will be checking records in about a week. Let me find that anywhere in my records and I will be contacting the state and possibly a lawyer.

Lesson learned. NEVER EVER go to Cabinet Peaks Medical Center’s Emergency Room. They do not respect you enough to tell you a diagnosis which is your RIGHT to know and they defend retaliatory doctors. That is my opinion right there.

What else would they not tell me?

And the wait begins.

But I am still angry because it negatively effected my health care with other doctors so far. One misdiagnosis, even just for retaliation, means I am now stigmatized.

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