I was very uncomfortable walking into the group room today. While the entire group is split in two, everyone has to come into my room to pick up and fill out their daily check in sheets. Then they go to another room. The room is fairly large; there are 6 conference-sized tables arranged in a large square. There is a seat for everyone, but it still too many people for me. At least half of them leave after 10 minutes or so.
Today’s “sharing” session (which generally lasts for two hours) was the usual boring routine until it got to me. I have decided to be honest about everything: the isolation that is now bordering on the extreme to include not even wanting to sit near someone, the rage/anger, suicide ideation (as long as I can assure them that I am not going to act on it), etc. I told them about my egging the police cars Sunday afternoon as an example of how my rage is getting out of control since I am now acting out my impulses. I admitted the desire I have to want to beat the crap out of any cop, and that I have been looking for ways to provoke an incident. I also told them that the two cops who responded first to my 911 call back on 10 October would be coming over to my house this afternoon to answer some of my still yet unanswered questions. Boy did that get their panties in a wad. They asked me if I thought I could control myself while they were at my house. I told them I was seeking answers, and as far as this meeting was concerned, I needed their help so I could fill in the gaps. I’m smart enough to know not to bite that hand that feeds me. Then I was asked how I would respond if they told me something that made me angry, or if they patronized me in any way. I didn’t have an answer for that one. They’d better not patronize me. That’s about all it would take to send me over the edge. Who the hell do they think they are, anyway, strutting around flashing their badges and guns like they own everything? (but, of course, I didn’t say that!). They didn’t think it was a good idea, and suggested instead that I meet them at the police department. Oh, yeah, like I’m gonna want to go THERE (aside from the fact that there are too many people around). I just told them I would think about it, but most probably I was going to stick to my guns and have them over. Right now as I wait (should be here in about 45 minutes barring getting a call beforehand), I don’t feel that my anger is out of control. My driving force is to get these much-needed answers. I can behave, or at least play the game, to get what I want. We’ll see.
The second part of the outpatient program today was the presentation by the therapist. She usually touches on various stressors, reactions to stressors, and discusses possible coping skills (today was about anxiety vs panic and their associated decriptions/indications of the related attacks). However, as soon as we came in from our break, she announced that the whole group would be together for this. I immediately got up from my seat at the table and found a chair that was against the wall far away from the table. Everyone piled in and thankfully filled all of the seats so it didn’t look too abnormal to take a seat on the wall (however, I moved there before most of the other group had come into the room). I had a hard time during that session. Just too many people. And, God, can some people whine!
(later) Well, the officer just left. He was as nice as could be and sat down at the table I have on the porch. He said the police always respond to “suicide person” calls as SOP. He and the ambulance parked across the street (where the church parking lot is) so as not to alert me, reasoning being that the alleged “suicide person” may try suicide by cop (it’s a shame they know THAT trick). He went on to say, especially after interacting with me today, that I was highly intoxicated and could not walk without assistance. He walked me into my house to secure my wallet, keys and sandals, but said that he did not search the house. He can’t remember if all my house lights were on or not.
But, here is the kicker: my pastor arrived (he was waiting for the police. He also parked across the street) to show them the text message I sent him. That really pisses me off. OK, I get that he felt some professional obligation to call 911 based on the text message I sent. But to meet the police at my house??? That crosses the line in my book. That pisses me off to no end. Why couldn’t he just leave well enough alone? What was he out to prove?
The cop was completely courteous and respectful. He even said that he wouldn’t even have recognized me by my actions given the state I was in then vs how I was when he talked to me today. It said it was quite an amazing difference.
OK, I guess I have been able to fill in my blanks (except why the hell my pastor showed up…but I haven’t talked to him or anyone at the church since that night, nor do I plan to. Needless to say, I won’t be returning to church—that one or any other for that matter). Now I am just waiting on my medical records from my ER debacle and the copy of the .wav file with the original 911 recording. While I may now have my answers to what the fuck happened (no, I take that back. I can’t account for the hours between 2000-0300 or remember ever feeling suicidal), the whole nightmare has been very upsetting to say the least.©2009
(If you haven't already read this saga from the beginning of this nightmare, go here first)
Immediately after the outpatient session was over I raced over to the trauma center I was taken to and put in a request to receive my complete medical record of my ER visit. I detailed that I wanted all the doctors’ notes, the nurses’ notes, all lab results, and any legal paperwork filed against me—or at least evidence that they were requested and ordered by the doctor. I was told it would take approximately 15 days. Then I thought to stop by the business office and get a copy of my bill. At least I could determine from that what tests were ordered and what medications were given and anything else that was billable. That they gave me immediately. It was a start.
What a fucking rip-off. The entire bill was $3910. Here is how it broke down: 5 0.1mg clonidine tabs @ $3 each, 40meq of potassium chloride @ $3/10meq, 1 800mg ibuprofen @ $3, venipuncture @ $25, blood alcohol level @ $196, 2 basic metabolic blood tests @ $200 each, 11 drug screens @ $88 each, CBC @ $105, urine culture @ $171, urinalysis @$93, ER Fee-Level V @ $1,524 (I was charged twice for that one), EKG @ $250, and finally the ER physician’s fee of $234. If I were that doctor, I would be humiliated to know that the damn EKG cost more than I did.
I can’t wait to get my hands on the medical records. I am going to match each billable item to an order in the chart. If I don’t see 11 orders for the separate tox screens, I’m sure as hell not going to pay for all of them
Aside from the ridiculous costs of each item and why the hell they had to run 11 tox screens, everything billed seemed to be a reasonable action taken by the ER considering my supposed presenting symptoms. But, just what were those presenting symptoms? I still can’t remember shit.
Then I went over to the E911 administrative offices. I told them I wanted a copy of the paramedics’ record on me that would reveal the time the 911 call came in, how they found me, what condition I was in, etc. I also told them that I wanted a copy of the 911 recording (they could send me the .wav file via email). While I got a hard copy of the record right away, I was told it would take about a week to get the recording.
As I sat there and read it, I was totally blown away. As best as I assumed before reading this, someone called 911 reporting a suicide attempt. Yet, at the top of the record, it states that they were dispatched at 0259 on 10 October with no lights and sirens. Hmmm…guess they must not take suicide attempts very seriously! They arrived at my house at 0313. But get this—they departed my location to transport me to the ER at 0330 (arrival to the ER @ 0338—again with no lights and sirens). They spent only 17 minutes at my home (btw, that bill was $250).
Then I flip to the second page. This only gets more bizarre. According to the report, “patient found sitting on porch with city police talking with her.” Talking??? So, I was up and talking. Explains HOW they gained access to my house. But, why were the police there? Oh yeah, that’s right, in my state it’s against the law to commit suicide.
I kept reading…”Chief Complaint: Category-Psychiatric Problems,” (geniuses, aren’t they?), “History of Present Illness: patient states that she has been having suicidal thoughts recently. Patient states she sent a message to her pastor detailing that she was going to overdose on medication with alcohol. Patient states she has been off her psychiatric meds for about three months. Patient agreed to go to the ER after admitting to sending her pastor the message about intentions of overdosing. Patient states she has not made an attempt to overdose or any other type of suicide yet.”
Third page “Neurological Exam—Level of Consciousness: alert, Orientation: oriented to people place and time, Loss of Consciousness: No, Chemically Paralyzed: No, Motor Comments: moves all extremities equally well, Sensory Comments: equal and normal sensory functions, Pupils: normal and reactive.” The GCS, airway, respiratory and cardiovascular entries all reported “within normal limits.” “Injury Details—Drugs/Alcohol? Alcohol, Drugs/Alcohol Indicators: patient admits to alcohol use, smell of alcohol on breath” Here is my favorite entry… “Impression/Diagnosis: mental/psych” (God love their training!).
Fourth page “Patient Authorization Signature Form” There was my signature, plain as day and clear as a bell. This was followed by a similar page for the receiving nurse’s signature at the ER.
Reading all of this only raised more questions. If I was so fucking alert and oriented, why the hell can I not remember a damn thing? Why would I send a message to my pastor of all people (sure enough, I checked my cell and there was an outbound text message basically saying what was in the report, so I now know WHO called 911)
What I do remember was being depressed at being so alone and pissed off that I couldn’t go to sleep, and making that huge Kamikaze. I don’t remember being suicidal (well, enough to actually do something about it). Besides, I already know how I plan to commit suicide—with an IV overdose of potassium chloride or insulin, whichever I can get my hands on (which I can quite easily). As I’ve said in previous posts, I’m certainly not going to take a chance by swallowing a boatload of pills and chasing it down with alcohol only to risk vomiting up all my resources. Plus, as evidenced by this occurrence, there is no telling what I might do in that period of time as my mental state starts altering after drinking a lot of alcohol (God forbid I make the mistake of sending another text message). With an overdose of the pills that I do have, there is the risk of resuscitation. With IV potassium chloride or insulin, especially the former, hell, I’ll be doing good to be around long enough to pull out the damn needle. No chance of resuscitation. It’s quick and it’s permanent.
Nevertheless, there are still more questions. Why were all the lights on in my house? Did the cops search my house? There didn’t seem to be any evidence of that. The only things out of place were the coffee table and the two speakers. Why were they moved if I was found sitting on my porch talking to the cops? Well, at least I know HOW the paramedics got in and WHO called 911. Huh, I wonder if the cops’ lights were flashing the whole time they were in my driveway? I’m sure the neighbors loved that. Well, at that hour, that’s probably a moot point. Besides, I don’t even know who they are, so I could give a flying fuck what they think.
Now I want to get in touch with the police department and talk to these cops who were on my porch. Maybe they can fill in some more of the blanks. And the nightmare continues…©2009
