What the truth is…lies and coverup and forced drugging

I’m not sure…but I feel that I am being forced to take this medication…told that I have to take it and that I have no choice….Told that if I don’t, I am screwed, basically.

Well, I took one of those pills last night, and slept only two hours.  Dr. P kept telling me these pills will make me feel oh so much better, however, I feel like crap, as you can imagine.  I feel like the waking dead, kinda like, as I have told Dr. P in the past, someone is holding toothpicks (as they used to show in the cartoons) in my eyelids to keep my eyes open, to keep me awake. When I am on this Abilify I am unable to sleep even in a state of complete exhaustion.  The higher the dose, the worse it gets.  I took only 5 mgs last night.  Jeepers, that was only one pill.  I can’t stay on this, and I can’t “disobey” Dr. P. This is forced drugging.  I can’t ask her to switch me to a different antispsychotic because then she will put me on fucking Seroquel or some other “weight-gainer,” something nightmarish to me.  No one with an eating disorder in their current or past should ever be forced onto medication that puts weight on them.  Or some med that gives me Tardive Dyskinesia.

So that’s happening.  Forced onto meds the are fucking up my sleep.

The hospital gave me, I guess what you would call, in plain English, BAD CARE in 2011, and they are lying about it and covering it up, denying that it ever happened.

The whole time that I was there, I had no visitors.  You know something?  I almost died then, having starved myself, making myself thin.   The irony was killing me.  I was all alone, lying in that bed, being glared at by those “sitters” with no witnesses.  My roommate was dying of cancer, and every day her Loving Family came to see her, they surrounded her with hugs and cards and stuff.  They showed up and stayed into the night, and there were so many doctors and specialists in to see her, pain specialists and the like.

Oh yeah, my therapist came, which I thought was “great,” but I did not realize then that she was discussing this “state hospital” plan with the hospital staff behind my back.  It was revealed to me a couple of months later, told that it had been in the works.  So she would come see me.  She was trying to get me institutionalized.

So I left, traumatized, I ended up there twice, the second time not as bad but still bad enough, and still no one believing me, and finally suffering with trauma I had to go to another hospital to be treated for trauma because of the trauma I had experienced from the Bad Care.

At hospital #2, they believed me, I told them how bad it was.  They believed what I said.  I told them about the peepholes and everything.  And the guy that kept taking off his clothes.  You know there are guys like that at psych units.  You gotta laugh…or you will cry.  They kept telling him he needed to put his freaking clothes back on.  I suppose if you’ve been around as long as I have, you will end up seeing a guy take his clothes off at least once or twice.


Folks, I am not the only one who was either threatened “state hospital” or sent there.  There have been other patients.  I have witnessed this and heard stories and the hospital staff tried to shut up the patient who was telling the story to me last July!

So now…

I have told you Mass  General stated they gave me bad care in July-August 2011.  As it unfolded.

They refused to give me a therapist based on “insurance” this past spring.  And I wrote this here in my blog.  Dr. P says it’s a bad thing for me to write this?  It’s a bad thing to say how sad it is that people can’t get care in the big rich USA?  Here in Boston, the Medical Hub of the Universe?  It’s not okay to say it out loud?

Do you understand that insurance can dictate life and death in our country?  Do you understand how badly that sucks?

Dr. P says the Five Fundamental Rights are trivial.  Not important.  And she even said at one point that they did not exist?  Folks, it’s incredible that our state even has Patient Rights.  At other states, patients die because they don’t have the same laws we have here in Massachusetts.  So right now, they are talking about a Sixth Right.  If I didn’t have my eating disorder, I’d probably be following all this more, and getting more active in this stuff.  But I keep swearing up and down and promising and crossing my fingers about changing the world.  And I guess in a big way,  that phone booth up there at Alcott is proof that NEVER, EVER SHUTTING UP can indeed change things.

So folks, keep on talking. Keep writing.  Don’t stop.  Tell your stories.  Write down what happened to you.  Remember all the bullshit and write it.  Yes, all the Bad Care.  All the times they put you in restraints illegally, all the times they yanked you around as if you were a dog on a choke collar, cuz you know it happened.  All the times you were thrown into empty rooms, all the times you were stripped down and your stuff was taken from you, your valuables lost and never returned to you, please, tell everything.  Why?  Because there is no reason not to.

I am being denied care because they are afraid of my writing.  Yep.  They are scared.  They lied to Dr. P.  What they told her was not true.  Of course, she herself was not involved in my inpatient treatment while I was there anyway.  Is any of this legal?


The eating disorders hospital in North Dakota refused to treat me….

They just called, saying, “We recommend that you keep doing what you are doing in your local area….”

I said, “You realize I have no therapist here.  I cannot find a therapist.  My insurance does not cover nutrition counseling.   I have no friends and my family has pretty much abandoned me.”

I should have added, “If I keep doing what I am doing here in the local area, it will kill me,” but I didn’t.

What I really wanted to say, but didn’t, was, “I’ll make sure you are sent an invitation to my funeral.”

What she said was, “We don’t really know what we can do for you.”

Well, fine.  I ended the conversation rather quickly.

I don’t really want a hospital, anyway.

Here’s the dilemma.  I don’t want to go to a weight-gaining factory like Walden Behavioral Care’s Alcott Unit.  I was talking to someone about this today.  Alcott’s interest is in stuffing the patients with anything they can, junk food snacks included, to fatten them up according to insurance companies’ demands.  If patients aren’t gaining fast enough, never mind the reasons, they stick a tube in the patient.  It’s all about numbers.  That’s why, when the doctor comes to see you, they’ve looked at one thing in your chart: the weight that you were that morning, and nothing else, not your feelings, nothing.  Because they have to answer to insurance.  Do I want a hospital like this one?  NO!

I was talking today with someone about hospitalization. She said just to keep me alive, because I am so suicidal.  She meant in a psych unit.  I told her the places around here are so bad that they will make me worse.  They do not provide “treatment.”  They only lock you up. The staff are bossy and uncaring and disrespectful.  It is especially bad since I am on care/caid so I am treated like a “Welfare case,” looked down upon even though I have more college education than just about any of the staff (doctors included).  So I said I would rather stay home and I am better off not being separated from Puzzle.  That’s the bottom line.

Another bottom line is that one reason I feel suicidal, probably the main one, is that I have gained so much weight.  Now if I can lose this weight, I won’t feel suicidal anymore.  If I can stop binge eating, I will feel damned good.

It really sucks that a lot of times, I tell people stuff and they don’t take me seriously or they don’t believe me.  Like when I told my shrink that I gained 28-1/2 pounds in four days.  She shrugged it off.  Well, the person I spoke with today (never mind who it was) said my shrink should have taken it seriously and should have believed me and ordered some medical tests at least.  I also told my CBFS worker and she said it was not possible to gain this much weight, however, she knows nothing about eating disorders.  I don’t know why they gave me this worker who does not know about ED.  It’s hard talking to her.  I felt like she thought I was exaggerating or lying.  This pisses me off.

My legs are no longer blue and discolored from skin stretching, but I had to walk a bit today and it was uncomfortable for my feet, because they are like little balloons.  Sometimes, my skin has a snapping feeling to it, and I know it is cracking due to extreme stretching from the weight gain.

Now do you believe me?

All I can think about is losing the weight I gained.  It is on my mind constantly.  If I can do this, I won’t kill myself, and I will feel so much better.  I need to lose an awful lot of weight.  These ED hospitals, if I go to them, they will make me stay at this weight.  I consider right now that I am living in a nightmare because of the weight I gained.

I was so glad the weather was cool today.  I had to be around people today and I mentioned that I was glad about the weather.  They were so clueless.  I was glad about this weather because then I could cover myself with my down coat and no one could see how fat I have become.  It’s not the same coat that I wore last year.  I hate that one so much, too many bad memories.  It’s a different one.

The only pants I wear now are pajama bottoms.  These are a plain brown pair I kinda stole from a hospital.  They are long and very wide on me so they cover my very large ankles so you can’t see the severe edema.  You can’t see that I have fat legs, and my coat covers most of my legs anyway.  It is a down coat and even if the wind blows, you don’t see how fat my thighs are due to the thickness of the coat.  My raincoat is good this way, too, because it does not show my fat thighs, but I wish it were not bright yellow, such a conspicuous obnoxious color.

I’m surprised I’m alive, actually.  I find it all rather amusing.