Gaslight Central
“I....I let you drive around my mind,
I can't count the times you made me feel like I'm nothin'
Played me like a fool, like a fool…”
― Jelly Roll
The state of the medical industry has hit rock bottom when it's possible to be gaslit by your own health care professional. Individually speaking, and with all the compassion in the world, it is possible that the health care professionals that stoop to gas lighting are under a lot of stress. I’m not saying that health care isn’t high stress and demanding. It’s probably one of the most stressful and demanding jobs out there. I would never do it. The problem doesn’t stem from these individuals per se. It stems from the environment they are forced to work in, brought about by the policies and procedures of the health care administration and of course the health care insurance companies. For profit health care is what we are talking about. When we lack the empathy to treat the patient while in pursuit of the bottom-line profit of the industry we have lost the battle. I’m afraid we lost it long ago. I don’t want to make excuses for the behavior of these individuals…it’s fucked and they should know better. But when it’s directed at me, beyond the intended effects of gaslighting, that make you feel crazier than you already do, based on an actual real world situation you've been kept in, more crazy than you can handle is going to come for you. That's not a threat…That's just what happens. Buckle up, it's going to get bumpy.
After careful consideration of my treatment in the Fairfax Abysmal Observational Facility--I’ll now call Attica, the only plausible explanation for the behavior and treatment of yours truly comes from the trained response of some real assholes. Specifically, and early on, it was determined that I was, what they call in the vernacular, a text book “drug seeker”. Yes friends, from the moment the EMT’s were summoned to my house I was immediately stereotyped into both the symptom magnifier and drug seeker motif of annual patient training.. That early evaluation of the situation was passed forward from the EMTs into the hands of those who would take charge of my treatment. Which of course meant no treatment. Diagnosis made at my house, clearly meant everything that was about to befall me, was going to be my fault. I was gaslit laying painfully in my own bed.
That is not to say medical care professionals shouldn't be on the lookout for the so-called “symptom magnifier”. These people exist. If you've ever been to the ER you know these people exist. They're loud. They moan. They get belligerent. They created ruckus for everyone. They spoil what was supposed to be a good visit to the emergency room. I on the hand was none of these things. I was open, honest, way too transparent, a keen observer of my own condition, and desperately wanting to help with the diagnosis of my own condition. I told the EMT what I thought what's going on. I should have kept my mouth shut.
Nobody goes to the emergency room with sciatica via an ambulance. Sciatica is seemingly understood by the community to be a minor form of leg pain. Painful yes but highly survival. Not a life threatening condition. The first responders, and rightfully so, should be saving lives.
I'm afraid I don't have the rulebook on what is and what is not a suitable level of pain before a 911 call. To me the inability to walk was the deciding factor. I couldn't crawl to my own car let alone drive. The exacerbating condition is the fact that when I lay motionless and in a very neutral position, zero gravity position, I am free from pain. Hardly life threatening. The EMT could not get his head around this lack of pain.
Never discount their treatment when it is offered to you. In particular, never discount the potential effectiveness of an injection of Toradol regardless if you happen to know that Toradol is only Motrin in IV form.
Most likely related to the emergency room staff in transit from the EMT, I had not only turned down an injection of Toradol I had turned down the establishment of an IV line to speed any medical attention once I was delivered to the emergency room. As previously mentioned who the fuck wants a guy stabbing you in the arm when your 10 minutes from the hospital? Haven taken handfuls of Motrin the previous night and morning, I doubt the effectiveness of Torodal. Also I have received Torodal injections in the past and at least one in a highly public manner that is one of my best war stories. Ask me about it sometimes. The Torodal didn't do dick but it's a great war story.
Dismissing Toradol is straight out of the handbook of drug seeking behavior. Not only was I on handfuls of Motrin, I also confessed to taking prednisone and gabapentin. Two prescriptions that I received from a Patient First earlier in the year when I was combating the same pain. The twist in this case is that my prescription was out and I was taking the prescriptions that remained from another member of my household, who had been treating his leg and back pain with the same prescription. He wouldn't be needing it any more. I'm not going to lie…there is some serious sentimentality tied up in taking his medication. Right or wrong Gunner was still taking care of me. And that really hits if you think about it. The EMT would have no way of thinking about it in that manner. I should have kept my mouth shut.
Rating the pain higher than a 10 means you are exaggerating.
I've already written an entire Chapter on pain. Medical care professionals who don't realize that there are categories of pain higher than 10 particularly when nerves are involved can suck my dick. I don't say that to be crass…I say that because what this means is that these medical professionals have no practical reality. All they know they've learned in a textbook and have never experienced medical conditions either for themselves or for someone they love that involves pain beyond 10. What their books and their training manuals tell them is that a patient moving beyond the preset standard of 1 through 10 as a pain indicator is an exaggeration of pain and thus drug seeking behavior. Fuck you! Obviously pain is very personal to me. Oh, and by the way, it is drug seeking behavior. Please make this pain go away.
The next category of things when speaking to your medical professional in a world where opioids have been villainized is using the wrong words. You must never refer to your pain as excruciating and specifically you should not refer to your pain as knife like. I do not know why these words have been outlawed in the textbooks and checklist of the medical professional but they too indicate drug seeking behavior.
I'm pretty sure lacking words in a painful situation is not uncommon. But we mustn't use words that over exaggerate our condition. Clearly we are not being stabbed with a knife. The pain may be sharp but it is not knife-like because there is no blood. I'm curious if suggesting your pain is knife-like is like shouting fire in a movie theater? The medical professional in the ER who pines for the day they are moved to the real trauma center, suffers PTSD when someone says knife-like. And they are reminded they are only there to administer aspirin and gaviscon.
To refresh on my countdown to purgatory, I broke every one of these rules with the EMT, In my home, trying to be open, honest and transparent. I have no doubt every one of these “exaggerations” were relayed to the medical team at the ER prior to or after my arrival. I was going nowhere, for treatment, fast.
Let the gas lighting games begin…and may the odds be forever in your favor…
Conveying to the hospital via ambulance definitely gets you through triage and in the door quickly at the ER. But you're still going to meet with a nurse and some other technician. You're also going to meet with the hospital admin to go over a few things. My memory is a little hazy but I'm pretty sure I went through all four things we think but do not say to each team member. Maybe not the admin person. Whereas I was not gaslit by the EMT who brought me in, I was clearly prejudiced in advanced. I suggest a new category of gaslighting called gas lighting in absentia. We don't even have the ability to combat this kind of behavior. We don't know why people think we are crazy…they just begin from that foundation of belief that we are crazy and pick up on it. It will show up in their mannerisms and in the way they discuss things with us. We may never detect why. Gaslighting is an insidious phenomenon.
Moving into round two I was actually able to speak to the emergency room doctor in charge of my case. Her mannerisms toward me having never met her before were belligerent and bull like. Her bedside manner was either her natural condition or she was already predisposed to bully me. I've already talked about her directly in the conversation we had regarding the fact that I had existing medical history involving my C5 and C6 vertebrae and based on the amount of pain I was in I was pushing for an MRI. Recall I was met with the lecture about the importance of MRI to trauma patients and that I would not be getting one. She also added the importance of the hospital and how busy they are…1,000 bed hospital, The third most busiest hospital in the United States. Since I wrote that I've taken the time to discover the true lie in that gas lighting behavior. My importance had little to this doctor at this moment in time. I wish her the plague. Yes, I just used the internet to determine that the Fairfax Abysmal doesn't even show up in the top 20 largest and busiest hospitals in the US. Because I'm a compassionate person I will give this doctor the benefit of the doubt that she was not gaslighting me, she was in fact gaslighting herself, trying to make herself feel important so she can wake up in the morning and come to work and abuse more patients. Whether she was lying to me or lying to herself that doesn't change the fact that she's was a liar. Plague on her.
Without a doubt however, her best gaslighting move of all, which was not to provide medical care, was to move me on. I don't need to be in the ER. I am not in life-threatening conditions. Probably my most rapid stay in an emergency room, I was shuffled to the observation unit, known as Attica, within hours of my arrival. Washing her hands of my medical condition perhaps the deepest of the gaslighting. Despite the fact that I could not walk, perhaps she thought it was all psychosomatic, I was whisked away to the observation unit with no explanation.
Sometime in the night, rolled into the observation unit, disoriented to say the least, I would be placed under the care of the attending. I don't believe I've ever met him. What's important to note is that this attending had just received the patient who could not walk. He seemed at least for a brief time to take that condition seriously. From the observation unit, from all my understanding the place where you are not really going to receive medical care, he scheduled me for a middle of the night MRI. Later this doctor also scheduled me for the cortisone injection into my L4 L5 on Monday afternoon. Another compassionate act of medical care, becoming inside the observational unit, not from ER, or from having been formally admitted into the hospital for either diagnosis or care. Inconsistencies of this nature or the start of what I believe to be the investigation by patient services that I have requested. I'm either in the hospital or I'm not in the hospital. My status during my week in the observational unit is still clearly unknown. It not only adds to my uncertainty, it adds to my crazy. It seems I was being gaslighted by the institution as a whole, not just by the individuals out to get me.
By the morning shift however, after the orders had already been written In the night, the attending doctors positions changed into, what would be called, pain management. I would meet the tormentors who would stay with me until my discharge a week later.
Each morning I would be asked, how is your pain? This particular question is truly nonsensical if you are tracking my condition. In my preferred position which is zero gravity, had elevated, torso slightly bent, legs up in knees bent, I am pain-free. I have found the position where any stress on the nerve being pinched in my L45 has been eliminated. I am a zero on their 1 to 10 scale. However moving slightly off parameters, even just an inch, spikes the pain to a 10. This happens, and what has been described in the literature, as the biped activity, principally primate, known as walking. I can't walk. Where the fuck is my wheelchair?
It was from these pain control management gurus of medicine that I would request consultation with some type of neurosurgeon who might be able to provide a better understanding of what was going on in my back. These meetings were considered and neurosurgery was notified of my desire to consult. I was told how busy the neurosurgeons are in the building. I would wait. And despite the drill sergeant wanting my DOR, I had nowhere else to go.
After 24 hours following the cortisone epidural into my L45, I was still unable to walk. I was told the epidural could take as many as 72 hours to kick in. On Tuesday afternoon I had my first meeting with neurosurgery. I was not greeted by a neurosurgeon coming to assess my condition. A physician's assistant from the neurosurgeons office was sent.
This was exactly the same schedule over the next 3 days. I would be met in the early morning by the doctor in charge of my pain management, ask the ridiculous questions about my level of pain, And I would request a consult with the neurosurgeons. Later in the afternoon a physician's assistant would arrive and we go through the whole process again.
Each time the physician assistant would examine me and literally tell me that surgery was indicated but that they would have to speak to the neurosurgeon himself. Each time the neurosurgeon turn down the procedure.
At the end of the week I met with the third and Final physician's assistant. We had a strong talk about other things that could be causing this problem…But most importantly we talked about Occam's razor…The simplest solution is most likely the cause. He also, having spoken to his boss, it was unable to break through, The determined, esteemed, an expert opinion of the neurosurgeon I had never met. I was not getting surgery. Conservative care was in my future and that meant rehabilitation. I've spoken above about gaslighting in absentia. When I have 3 different PAs telling me surgery is indicated, And the ghost of a guy I have never met, telling me no, you feel a little bit crazy.
The final day of gas lighting began in much the same way. What is your level of pain? Same. On this day however the observation unit was making strong plans to shift me to Folsom correctional in Mount Vernon. My case was still being handled by the pain doctors. I was told my insurance company was denying my transfer to the rehabilitation center but they were fighting for me. They were fighting for me on my behalf and would request a one-on-one with the benefits from my company.
Friday morning both doctors came to me with their victory. The insurance company graciously agreed to go with their recommendation of rehabilitation at Folsom correctional. Having no diagnosis or understanding of why I couldn't walk, believing surgery was perhaps my best option, why would I be going into physical therapy to endure pain for multiple weeks that was just going to result in their requirement for surgery anyway. Where was the neurosurgeon in all of this…not a good look.
When the doctors came to deliver my options to me in the morning, instead of providing me with this information, I was immediately informed that I was not taking my Motrin. I had told the nurses that I didn't want The Motrin and since I was in pain, I was responsible. Subtle gas lighting is hard to detect. When it's in your face, and you're being blamed--and you still have your wits about you--but just barely, it's going to get bumpy.
I did not stop my Motrin. Earlier in the week giving the consultations with neurosurgeons, The doctors pulled me off Motrin in the event surgery was in fact recommended. You don't want to be on Motrin because of its blood thinning capability just before surgery. I had three consultations with neurosurgery and from my perspective each one had the potential to result in surgery. So on Thursday, I did in fact tell the nurse that I would not take the Motrin based on my surgical consult.
Another factor in all of this is that the doctor had actually prescribed my ability to take oral Dilaudid upon request. A request that was never fulfilled. Mainly because it was demonstrated to do nothing for the level 10 pain when it's spiked, And I did not want to deal with any mental incapacitation. They did have me on strong muscle relaxants and neurological drugs such as gabapentin…and the levels of those medications were being increased daily. They also were giving me plenty of Tylenol.
Once the overt gaslighting began, I had no choice but to escalate the level of my concern for my own medical condition. I raised my voice when speaking to the doctor. Her response, as you might expect, was classic. I was attacking her. I had arrived at gaslight Central. At this point, my sister who was with me in the room, diligently witnessing this affair, and documenting it, began to intervene.
I was arguing for my pain and she was arguing for my mental health. She witnessed what I've been going through this week and captured it correctly.
And now in a weak in mental state, I was being attacked and blamed for my own condition. But the physician felt like she was being attacked. In a moment of clarity, as that particular physician who I would never see again, left through the curtain separating my holding cell from the rest of the ward, I shouted I want my patient advocate and I want my patient advocate now. That request was never fulfilled by the medical staff, I had to deliberately email and call patient services multiple times to finally receive a visit.
The day was over and it was now Friday, at 5:10 in the afternoon. Six days since I came into the emergency room. The doctor in charge of my pain management said, “your room at the rehabilitation center is ready. At 5:30 they are going to cancel your room. If they take your room it could be months before you get another room at the rehabilitation center. You have 20 minutes to decide if you want your room and to be moved to the rehabilitation center”. Or words to that effect. I responded, “What happens if I do not go”, The doctor in charge of my pain management would respond, " We will call security”. I have no idea what to do with that piece of information. Unable to walk…laying in an observation unit for an entire week. Being threat through some kind of security. When all I want to do is be out of pain. Regain some semblance of a human life. And my god man take a shower…I succumbed to my baser wish to breathe fresh air. I told her I would go to the rehabilitation center. By sister, among my greatest fans, concurred I needed to be out of that place.
About an hour later, a medical Uber taxi arrived. And I was transported by gurney to the rehabilitation center near Mount Vernon. Initially my next prison cell as Folsom Correctional, The rehab center, as described elsewhere, has allowed to be far more freedom, privacy, and the ability to remain human. I may retract the name Folsom at some point. I know they don't torture at American prisons such as Folsom, but physical therapy remains torturous. I reserve the right, to maintain the distinction.
In a hospital setting being threatened with security at the end of a very very long and both physically and mentally demanding week…looking back I have no words to describe the complete insensitivity and dehumanization of a medical care professional making a threat to call security. In her heart I guess I believe I'm a drug addict. That is how she treated me the entire week and explains it complete lack of interest in my medical care or any attempt at a diagnosis. In hindsight I should have played that hand. Had my friends been closer…I would have called some of them to task. I've had at least four offers for them to respond in some capacity. God bless them, And they're super fitness.
Where does something like her threat to me even originate. Not from compassion, not from understanding, but most likely fear. Untrained and unwilling to unfold a problem that presented before them, they gaslighted me. I was made the victim, and she took a cowards path towards the door. Except it was me they were throwing out into the unknown. 100% the rehabilitation center is a better place for me…But it is not the right place because nobody knows what's wrong. Rehab is not diagnosis…moving forward, however will try to turn the rehabilitation center into my personal diagnostic lab. God willing and with the help of real people who care.
PS. My roommate at Folsom went home safely today, he never fell down and I never had the save him. I wish him well. We continued to wave and each time he saw me his smile got broader and broader. I never got to talk to him, but I got to listen in to his health care decisions, and menu options, because of the interpreter machine they dialed into every morning. My roommate was fluent in Mandarin. My point here however, Is that his bed is now available. That actually translates into more sleep for me because his alarm is not going off every 5 minutes. But what it really means is that I would have only had to wait about a week for another bed to open if this facility was actually full. Not the 3 months I was threatened with by the gas lighter in chief. (Upon personal observation this week there were many more rooms available) My primary caregiver at the observation center was able to both exaggerate and lie naturally through her teeth to a patient under her care… two of the biggest weapons contained in the arsenal the gas lighter uses to beat down the sanity patients, the most vulnerable in the room. This is so disgusting it should make everyone nauseous. She is an enemy of both medical care and humanity. And evaluation of her fitness to remain in her position should be a direct outcome of the investigation I've started through the patient services action at Fairfax Abysmal and the Stalag of Attica she leads.