They gave me Mellaril in the hospital in 1983. I got tachycardia (rapid heartbeat) from it. I was told this was not an allergy but an “unpleasant reaction.” I was told to not take it again if offered, though.
I was given Zyprexa (Olanzapine) in 1997. It made me sleep 16 hours a day, and the other 8, I was a zombie. It also caused binge eating. I’ve since learned that I’m not the only one who has had this reaction. After a few days, my shrink said, “I am taking you off of this right away. You should never take Zyprexa again. Don’t worry, I will never put you back on it,” I was underweight at the time, and even though I needed to eat, I didn’t need destructive eating.
In my hospital records at Mount Auburn from 2013, they wrote that I was delusional because I said I had no medication allergies. Their records stated that since I said this, I was a “poor historian” since apparently I had “forgotten” that Mellaril gave me “palpitations.” Palpitations means your heart beats harder, isn’t the same as tachycardia, and also isn’t an allergy per se. I knew that an allergic reaction had something to do with histamine, such as a swollen tongue, rash, or respiratory problems. I was absolutely right on. So I ask, who was the “poor historian”?
They also seemed to think that just because I had once taken Imipramine, then of course, two years later, I must certainly still be on it. Apparently they were at such a loss as to what my “meds” were, though I had carefully written for them the names and doses, that they resorted to calling CVS. I suppose my last shrink didn’t remember? Did she not have records? Who is the irresponsible one?
The correct spelling of my name, my birth date and address were never verified so they gave me Julia’s drugs, not mine. They continued to call me a “liar.” Who was the stupid one here?
I got yelled at and called liar, and other names, over and over. They assumed I was an idiot since I didn’t seem to recognize this other person’s drugs, I said again and again that these weren’t mine.’t mine. I finally asked, “Did you verify the address?” They hadn’t, and didn’t apologize. Who was the one who “lacked insight”? They began to abuse worse.
Next thing you knew, they told me they wouldn’t let me out unless I took Zyprexa. I told them I had had a bad reaction in the past. I’m sure by then they were discrediting everything I said. They also tried to give me Abilify, which only two months previously had given me insomnia and mania after three days.
However, my prior shrink had told them I hadn’t seen her for “months.” This wasn’t true. I saw her every month until July 10, a month prior to admission at Mount Auburn, when I had fired her, telling her that I had already scheduled with new providers and told her who my PCP was. I saw her write this down. Who was the “poor historian”?
Oh, so I was supposed to forgive? Next thing you know, completely unbeknownst to me, they had someone (the police most likely) do an illegal search of my apartment. I never found out till I got home and found the place torn apart. On one of my tables were two bottles, which they assumed were the correct pills. One bottle was two years old, the other, three years old, and both were empty, and in a remote drawer with my art supplies.
One was 600 mgs of Lamictal. I was given the entire 600 all at once. I almost took it, trusting them entirely, since they had just roused me, but I spat it out, saying, “I don’t take this.” Again, called a “poor historian.” No, I spat out those pills to save my life. Then, they claimed I was “suicidal.” Who was the one who lacked common sense? I asked myself over and over how they were getting away with this.
Is anyone going to call me “stupid” for not taking the labels off those bottles at home? My ex-friend did. One would assume these bottles would be safe way back in that drawer. Should I expect an illegal search on a regular basis? Had I tossed the bottles in the trash bin, for sure I would have removed the labels, since I’ve heard that adventurous teens can go get refills somehow. Believe me, they tore apart everything and left the place a mess. The same “friend” told me, “No one cares about patient rights. Why don’t you drop the subject.”
I’ve since found out otherwise. Thousands are joining the Movement, more and more each day.
Meanwhile, back at the hospital, I was assumed to be delusional since I spoke of “rights.” Apparently I had none. Because I wasn’t seen as human any longer. I cannot count how many nurses rolled their eyes at me after that, and how many times the “sitters” also abused me.
This, folks was “treatment.” I got out. I was condemned in my community for not being “grateful,” because I reporting Mount Auburn for abuse. Who are the bigoted ones?
I’d rather die than go back to Mount Auburn Hospital. I now live far, far away. Because what they did to me nearly destroyed me.