September 22, 2014

Where To Even Start...

Sorry, this is going to be one long ass post...
In the last month my mental health got bad enough I ended up on the Unit for almost a week.  My anxiety and depression got to be way too much. It was going okay at first, the older doctor was on who I like very much. He sits and talks with you and is very nice, down to earth and professional. He pulled the Lithium and wasn't happy my doctor hadn't done so, I'd been on it three years and it wasn't helping for a long time. All it has been doing is making my hair break and my nails look terrible. He added Prozac to help with my OCD and panic disorder symptoms, which has actually helped a lot. For the first time since I was a kid I no longer pick at the skin around my fingers, I actually am getting cuticles again!
The problems started when the next doctor came on while I was still there. He is the other brand new out of school one and I wasn't happy about it. He tried to be nice and break the ice talking about Australia, etc. The second day, while I was still trying to lift up from my depression, he badly timed bad news. Because I had a blip of THC in my system, he said he was required to tell the organization that has been helping me about it. I thought in about six second of time....omg I'm going to get cut off from that charity, I'll lose my apartment, I'll end up on the street, etc. I scared the shit of me and I was pissed off because my regular doctor wasn't that fussed that I smoke once n a while.
I walked away, because I didn't want to say anything stupid. I threw my cup of ice at the mirror and then curled up in a ball in the corner of my room crying and completely disassociated for my own protection. I tend to do that when people or situations scare me. I don't remember hitting my head on the wall, I don't remember punching the bed frame, I don't remember ripping my arm bands right off my arms and I have no recollection of the nurses and doctor trying to talk to me and then putting me on level one (means supervised all the time 24/7).
The reason I came out of it, was a good social worker I've known for years came in and sat right down on the floor with me and talked to me and pulled me out of it. We sat and talked quite a while and she calmed me down and told me she'd to everything she could to keep that charity helping me, which she did. I was pretty stressed for days over it. But at least she helped me see perspective on it.
She also helped me again when I had a hard time. I'd taken my first shower there and got a good look at what I'd done to myself. I cut myself 147 times before going on the unit. It was the first time I really saw my body and it really shook me up. She helped talk me through it, let me cry about it and helped me get on track with journaling my feelings, whether they were valid or not, just to get it out of my system. It may just turn out to be a great alternative.
While on the unit I talked with this new doctor about how hard of a time I've had being able to trust him since the thing in February and that was partly why things got so bad. He ended up talking with my doctor and they decided to switch. This new doctor, Dr. R., joked that he had more complaints than my old doctor. I thought he was kidding because he was laughing about it.... later I found out it was actually true. I also found out later my doctor fired me when I asked to switch and asked Dr. R., to take me on as a "personal favor" to him so he didn't have to have me as a patient anymore. Nice hey?
I spent five days on the unit. I thought non one was calling to check on me and I started ruminating and getting depressed about it. Turns out nobody was getting through. Seven people had been trying to call for days. My caseworker came and visited and put my mind at ease about housing, ect. She said it was fine. That everything was okay. That took a lot off my shoulders.
When I got out, I had an appointment the next day with Dr. R. and he was pretty decent about everything. A couple days later I went to the pharmacy to fill my Strattera and found out it had been pulled. No discussion no nothing, he just pulled it out from under me, even though it had been helping me so much. I made an emergency appointment to talk to him about it and he was a total asshole. He said unless I changed my life direction or went to college I didn't need to have it. He didn't care about my photography goals and career. He actually said, what do you do, pop a strattera and watch tv.... I was like what?? I don't even watch tv it's stupid! He said I was fishing for stimulants when Strattera is a non stimulant. He did not give one shit that it helped me with cleaning, organizing, finishing talks, writing my feelings in my journal more and helping me focus in on my photography without outside distraction. He just did  not care at all. He made me feel so stigmatized it was unbelievable. I left completely demoralized.
It was at that point, I felt like I'd had it, the therapy, the groups, the doctors, the meds. I didn't want to do it anymore. I was sick of it. So like a dork, I went off everything cold turkey, including the klonopin, gabapentin and prozac. Just didn't care anymore. My therapist at that clinic was all like I'll be your advocate and texted me right up until that doctor showed up and then she stopped texting me the rest of the day. No more support at all. I found out two days later why you can't go off those meds cold turkey, especially the gabapentin. I was SO fucking sick. I had the chills, headache that traveled down my spine, throwing up, the shits, my blood pressure went through the roof, I was having zapping feelings in my head between my ears.... it was awful. I really needed to go to ER but I refused. Thanks to caseworkers and friends they talked me into taking it again, though I didn't feel better until four days later. It really sucked. I'm now mad that my doctor put me on 1800mg of gabapentin without telling me my body would get hooked on it, especially with my history. He should have told me that so could weight the risk vs. reward. I probably would have turned it down if I'd known.
I tried to go to group last thursday, while still in the throws of withdrawal. I was shaking, sick, and just raging (that's part of the withdawal) and ended up in a shouting match with the group therapist. I then walked out and told them I wanted to see Dr. R. immediately. The had me wait in the waiting room, saying they'd get me in. Then the nurse came out and said I had to go up to the lab at the hospital for labs. I was like, okay, they want to check levels, fine. We drive over there and I'm all ready to life my arm shirt up for blood work and then they asked me to take everything out of my pockets... well I'm not a moron. He was trying to slip a drug screen without ever talking to me at all. Again labeling me as a drug addict, which I'm not! So, I refused. So then he refused to even talk to me, my own psychiatrist was acting like a fucking baby. Totally out of line and over controlling.
I refused to go back in, so my social worker/advocate went in to talk to him. He totally reamed her ass. He said social workers were all a bunch of clowns and that they shouldn't be allowed in HIS office and that they were tools and he could have her license pulled, among other things. He'd never even met her before and treated her that way. She was very professional and he kept poking at her, like he was digging for something. But she didn't budge, she is a professional that goes into scary houses and pulls out kids who are abused, raped, neglected...stuff he didn't even know about her. He just wants to control everyone, like we are children and he's bosss and that's it. He then said, well, you know, she's borderline right? Which my caseworker took offense to. Just because someone has BPD does not make them less of a person.
I was stigmatized in more ways than one by my own psychiatrist. I ended up firing him for that, then he fired me back like the controlling ass he is. We immediately started the complaint process. I did my part over the phone, but still need to write it out on paper to turn in. The head of the KC of that charity is going to the medical board over these two, because they are treating patients horrible. At least I had an advocate who saw his true colors, but i fear for those who have no witness at all to what is gong on. Then it's the doc vs. patient and the doctor wins every time. It's just  hot mess now at that clinic. Just terrible. I fired them all, even the therapist. My caseworker said in all her years as an advocate she's never had a doctor feel like shit for just doing her job. She said she will never step into that facility again for the rest of her career. With all the complaints floating around I hope the shit hits the fan over these two, they are too young and inexperienced and have no idea how to handle patients with borderline or past childhood abuse. None at all. They are controlling, don't talk to you first, just do what they want. I'm paying for a service, just like a business and I can find better. I'll have to travel but I don't care. My MD filled my scripts or a month and I'm making phone calls in other towns to find an older more experienced psychiatrist. Never again will I hire a doctor just out of school. EVER.
I'm now interviewing doctors until I find the right one for me. I have limited time to find one but have had plenty of suggestions, so I'll find one.
And that is whee I am right now. Just trying to get through the shit and emotion on my own. Thank god I have Doc G. He's been wonderful and happy I'm away from those two. He doesn't like them at all.
I hope things are going better with everyone else. I'm just trying to take one day at a time right now.
-Misty