Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids

Reason #258: Silenced in a Hospital
September 16, 2011, 12:40 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

On Tuesday, August 30th, I woke up in a great deal of physical pain.  I told the huz/wife I think I needed to go to the ER.  He took me.  I screamed in pain the whole way there in the car.  G-d bless him for getting me there safely.  They admitted me and gave me a shot of morphine for the pain.

 It turned out I had a gall stone lodged in the common bile duct between my liver and my gall bladder.  They decided to put a stent in to get the stone out.  They put the stent in, surgically.  Apparently, the dye they used caused my pancreas to get an infection called pancreatitis.  Plus, I had a reaction to the stent.  So they put me in the ICU.  Then they decided to take the stent out.  But I already had the pancreatitis, and my lungs were under water already.  They took the stent out. 
They gave me a lot of drugs to counter the pain I was in.  The drugs caused my heart to work too hard and they thought my heart stopped.  A lot of men suddenly ran into my room and put an oxygen mask on me.  I was confused and scared and I kept removing the man’s hands off of me and the mask off of me.  They kept yelling at me.  I yelled back at them. They put me back in the ICU, and the nurses there said I was worst patient they had ever seen.  They yelled at me for screaming in pain.  At this point they stopped all the drugs they were giving me for pain, and I was still in a shitload of pain from the pancreatitis.
I was in the hospital for a total of 11 days, against my will most of that time, though I do understand it was medically necessary.  I will never understand the medical model of not working WITH a patient to try to save her life though.  I would have liked to have been an ally in my own treatment.  For instance, they could have said “Your heart is showing signs of working too hard, and this is an oxygen mask we are putting on your face to help your heart.”  Instead they yelled “Stop removing the oxygen mask!”  again and again without ever telling me why these men kept putting their hands on my face.
I felt powerless and horrible and voiceless and silenced by their reaction to my reaction to physical pain.  By the end of the hospital visit, I was showing signs of being institutionalized.  I was depressed and traumatized by this whole experience.
They blamed me for being in pain, blamed me for the heart thing.  One nurse actually said to me “You worked yourself up to having a heart attack!!”  She made me feel like such a piece of shit. It turned out I never had a heart attack, but my heart rate did slow in reaction to the drugs they had given me for pain. 
I am barely mobile now.  Every task is Herculean, and today (almost a week since I was released from the hospital) is the first day I feel well enough to sit at my laptop (thank you G-d).  I cry whenever I think about the hospitalization, and I tremble in fear at the thought of having to go back.  It was like being a powerless silenced child all over again.
I am sure the nurses and doctors couldn’t have known that I am Butterfly, author of Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids.  They had no idea that I have had three molesters in my life, at different ages in my childhood, and that I now have strong feelings about choice and control and my body, and that I would have a PTSD reaction to having men suddenly run into the room and put their hands over my mouth, literally silencing me.”
They couldn’t have known, but they SHOULD have acted as though every single patient in their care has the possibility of having already been traumatized.  Surely there should be some training in the medical community, something in the Universal Precautions, something that actually allows you people to heal us when we come to you with our physical ailments.  Instead, I was literally left in pain, blamed for my illness, blamed for my pain, blamed for my physical and emotional reactions to my pain, and then given little to no help towards healing. 
Any healing that has happened has begun since I got home.  I am grateful to be alive, but I am still too scared to even breathe. 
Holy shit.

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