Flynnal
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Aug 14, 2012
- Messages
- 849
This horrid nightmare began on the morning 26th June when I woke up with what seemed like a blocked right ear and some mild nausea. I tried to pop my ears as usual by drinking a glass of water and that didn't help. I noticed there was a ringing when I heard any sound coming through that ear. I waited for an hour and then basically panicked and called paramedics because sudden hearing loss like this is a true medical emergency. So the one guy arrives and asks me what's happened. I explain everything, even including the treatment that I had last time this happened (back in 2007) with my left ear. It's strange because I must be one of the unluckiest guys on the planet because this is supposed to be quite rare. It's called SSNHL. The guy asked me what would I do if they didn't give me the steroids (I used prednisolone in 2007 and it worked and the hearing in my left ear came back). I was literally starting to feel panic again, but I asked him why there would be a problem with it. I wanted to tell him that if they didn't help me and I ended up with permanent damage that I'd kill myself, but something stopped me. Maybe it was the fear of being sent to a room and not getting helped. It was one of those catch-22 scenarios. I wanted to tell them just how serious this was, but on the other hand, I didn't want to fuck up my only chance for help or I would have ended up dead anyway. Damned if you do...damned if you don't.
Well, it was a case of damned if you don't anyway. That doctor at Wyong Hospital refused to give me the prednisolone I actually needed. This is a GOLD STANDARD treatment and she just OUTRIGHT...REFUSED...Instead she gave me ear drops which are only designed to treat external ear infections. I asked her why and all she said was that it had some nasty side effects. Uh OK you want to save my hearing or not? Yeah sure, as if I'm concerned about taking steroids for a week? I already done it 13 years ago. It's not pleasant but it's bearable and it sure as fucking hell is better than killing myself if I end up with fucked up hearing for the rest of my life, right? Big deal, right? I wanted to scream at her full bore at levels of 120db something along the lines of "No shit Sherlock, what's your problem? I need help right now, this can't wait! It's URGENT! You're worried about side effects and all I want is my hearing back you're supposed to be a doctor for the love of Jesus Christ! Please help me, I only have a few days or this is permanent damage. You might as well send me home to die!". I wanted to tell her that if she didn't help me I would go home and call it a day and kill myself, I wanted to tell her that she had two choices and that the other choice would end tragically so she'd better make the right one. But I didn't stick up for myself.
She told me how to use these drops, and I played along with her, but inside I was just screaming. I wanted to run out of that room screaming like a crazy psycho, wanted to scream at the women who was sitting behind a glass facade in the middle of the outer area where I'd been waiting. I kept going over and over...what did the paramedic say to this damn doctor? Did he say something to her so that she wouldn't take me seriously? What happened here? I will never know what words were exchanged, or what documents had been written.
I went home. I did "what I was told". I hallucinated for a couple of days on and off. Typical prisoner's cinema type stuff. Lots of phosphenes and tons, and tons, of nausea. I was vomiting profusely over several hours at one point. I don't even remember how many times I dry heaved. Sleep was a complete impossibility. Panic was all I could feel. But the visual hallucinations gave me moments of sanity in between. Man those visuals were to die for, such simple patterns yet so colourful and so beautiful. Probably what kept me alive to be honest.
On the 29th of June, miraculously, my hearing came back. The scariest part is that on the 28th of June I was preparing to drop 18,000mg of sodium pentobarbitone (what they call the "death drug" here in Australia) and call it a day. That would have been enough to kill me many times over. Boy am I glad I waited. But I was so scared, so terrified that this doctor had just handed me a life sentence. I flushed the barbiturates down the toilet on the 14th July because the severe mental distress that this doctor had inflicted upon me was still bearing down on me, so I thought I had some sort of trauma and was still tempted to take my own life just so I could sleep, so down the toilet that bitter white powder went, every last trace of it. So this woman not only put my hearing at risk, she also took away my option to die a peaceful death in the event that I should come down with a painful terminal illness, and for those two things I cannot ever forgive her.
Well, it's been a bit over a week since I've made a complaint about how I was treated. Hopefully they'll respond soon, but all I'm going to do is tell them how she managed to fuck up my life and how I will need counselling so that I have at least some chance that I can ever get over this trauma. I honestly cannot stress how traumatic it is to be staring down the barrel of a gun when your own damn finger is on the trigger, how scary it is looking at the end of your own life, knowing that you are going to die because someone you desperately asked for help did the wrong thing and might have permanently ruined your life and that you felt you had no other option but to kill yourself because you were not going to accept the life sentence that this doctor had just given you, because someone wasn't compassionate enough or didn't take you seriously enough, so you're now dead because of that. It's scary as, and there's no literally other way to describe how terrifying it is.
Ok, so this stress has continued on for quite some time. On Tuesday morning it came to a head, because I awoke at 4:30am, feeling off, and went to the bathroom. As I went back to bed I started losing consciousness. I thought "Oh my God, this is it." Lying on the bed, slowly losing consciousness, screaming and crying because I was all alone in my apartment and thought I was really dying. I regained consciousness to find the bed cover completely drenched in urine. I had to get paramedics because I legitimately thought I was still going to die. I still had a sense of impending doom, hence the call to 000. I legitimately thought I was going to die. Whilst I was in Gosford District Hospital, during a routine blood sample I started losing consciousness again. I saw my heart rate plummeting from 70+ all the way down to 20. Again, I thought, "This time it might be the end." and again I started crying. Boom, I come back again, bright lights, lots of action, people surrounding me, one female doctor (this one actually gave a fuck, unlike the one at Wyong Hospital) gently stroking my head and telling me everything was OK. I legitimately thought I had gone into cardiac arrest - well, technically I did but it was triggered by a vagus nerve response and was only temporary - weird huh? I never knew the vagus nerve could send someone's heart rate plummeting that low and the doctor told me that the only time this is life-threatening is if I were driving (I never have and don't intend to get a license), and presumably if I were standing on a ladder. The funny part is that I've never had this problem when getting blood samples taken. Only this one time. I still have yet to learn why this happened when it never happened before. Perhaps it was due to this ongoing distress.
Since then my insomnia has improved, and hopefully I'm starting to recover. But every now and then I suffer from these horrible thought loops about this, along with a sense of impending doom that tends to come and go, but it hasn't been as bad.
I know I will survive this, but it's been so damn hard, and although I've tried to tell my family I'm not sure if they realise just how close I was to actually dying (from that horse killer barbiturate) and just how horrific things could have turned out. To this day I still shed a tear when I think about how things could have been very bad. Honestly I just want the thoughts to stop because they just hurt so much. I want some rest, and I want peace from this, even temporary respite. I don't want to die, even though I am not scared of death, I want to live and not have my life fucked up by uncompassionate doctors who won't take me seriously or who patronise me. I am glad the barbiturates are gone. I feel sad that I was robbed of the chance to die peacefully if I came down with cancer, but I'm glad that I survived anyway. Hopefully legislative changes will mean I wouldn't have needed the barbiturates anyway...fingers crossed. It's amazing how your perspective can change so fast, as mine did.
I just want to live the same life that everyone around me appears to take for granted (or at least as it seems). Just to breathe that beautiful Central Coast air and feel the soothing radiance of the sun's rays, the smell of the ocean and the singing of the birds. I look forward to watching some bull ants forming new nests soon. A couple of stings from those fuckers would certainly take my mind off whatever it was that was bothering me, and I mean that in a funny and positive way
To sum it up; this experience has changed me. It has left an enormous mark on me and has changed the way I think about things. Now and probably forever. I look forward to being normal again. I just want to walk and breathe, and function and talk, and love life, like everyone else, just to feel good and to not be scared or hurt. I don't ever want to live in fear ever again. But you know what? It is what it is, and I will never take anything for granted ever again.
Well, it was a case of damned if you don't anyway. That doctor at Wyong Hospital refused to give me the prednisolone I actually needed. This is a GOLD STANDARD treatment and she just OUTRIGHT...REFUSED...Instead she gave me ear drops which are only designed to treat external ear infections. I asked her why and all she said was that it had some nasty side effects. Uh OK you want to save my hearing or not? Yeah sure, as if I'm concerned about taking steroids for a week? I already done it 13 years ago. It's not pleasant but it's bearable and it sure as fucking hell is better than killing myself if I end up with fucked up hearing for the rest of my life, right? Big deal, right? I wanted to scream at her full bore at levels of 120db something along the lines of "No shit Sherlock, what's your problem? I need help right now, this can't wait! It's URGENT! You're worried about side effects and all I want is my hearing back you're supposed to be a doctor for the love of Jesus Christ! Please help me, I only have a few days or this is permanent damage. You might as well send me home to die!". I wanted to tell her that if she didn't help me I would go home and call it a day and kill myself, I wanted to tell her that she had two choices and that the other choice would end tragically so she'd better make the right one. But I didn't stick up for myself.
She told me how to use these drops, and I played along with her, but inside I was just screaming. I wanted to run out of that room screaming like a crazy psycho, wanted to scream at the women who was sitting behind a glass facade in the middle of the outer area where I'd been waiting. I kept going over and over...what did the paramedic say to this damn doctor? Did he say something to her so that she wouldn't take me seriously? What happened here? I will never know what words were exchanged, or what documents had been written.
I went home. I did "what I was told". I hallucinated for a couple of days on and off. Typical prisoner's cinema type stuff. Lots of phosphenes and tons, and tons, of nausea. I was vomiting profusely over several hours at one point. I don't even remember how many times I dry heaved. Sleep was a complete impossibility. Panic was all I could feel. But the visual hallucinations gave me moments of sanity in between. Man those visuals were to die for, such simple patterns yet so colourful and so beautiful. Probably what kept me alive to be honest.
On the 29th of June, miraculously, my hearing came back. The scariest part is that on the 28th of June I was preparing to drop 18,000mg of sodium pentobarbitone (what they call the "death drug" here in Australia) and call it a day. That would have been enough to kill me many times over. Boy am I glad I waited. But I was so scared, so terrified that this doctor had just handed me a life sentence. I flushed the barbiturates down the toilet on the 14th July because the severe mental distress that this doctor had inflicted upon me was still bearing down on me, so I thought I had some sort of trauma and was still tempted to take my own life just so I could sleep, so down the toilet that bitter white powder went, every last trace of it. So this woman not only put my hearing at risk, she also took away my option to die a peaceful death in the event that I should come down with a painful terminal illness, and for those two things I cannot ever forgive her.
Well, it's been a bit over a week since I've made a complaint about how I was treated. Hopefully they'll respond soon, but all I'm going to do is tell them how she managed to fuck up my life and how I will need counselling so that I have at least some chance that I can ever get over this trauma. I honestly cannot stress how traumatic it is to be staring down the barrel of a gun when your own damn finger is on the trigger, how scary it is looking at the end of your own life, knowing that you are going to die because someone you desperately asked for help did the wrong thing and might have permanently ruined your life and that you felt you had no other option but to kill yourself because you were not going to accept the life sentence that this doctor had just given you, because someone wasn't compassionate enough or didn't take you seriously enough, so you're now dead because of that. It's scary as, and there's no literally other way to describe how terrifying it is.
Ok, so this stress has continued on for quite some time. On Tuesday morning it came to a head, because I awoke at 4:30am, feeling off, and went to the bathroom. As I went back to bed I started losing consciousness. I thought "Oh my God, this is it." Lying on the bed, slowly losing consciousness, screaming and crying because I was all alone in my apartment and thought I was really dying. I regained consciousness to find the bed cover completely drenched in urine. I had to get paramedics because I legitimately thought I was still going to die. I still had a sense of impending doom, hence the call to 000. I legitimately thought I was going to die. Whilst I was in Gosford District Hospital, during a routine blood sample I started losing consciousness again. I saw my heart rate plummeting from 70+ all the way down to 20. Again, I thought, "This time it might be the end." and again I started crying. Boom, I come back again, bright lights, lots of action, people surrounding me, one female doctor (this one actually gave a fuck, unlike the one at Wyong Hospital) gently stroking my head and telling me everything was OK. I legitimately thought I had gone into cardiac arrest - well, technically I did but it was triggered by a vagus nerve response and was only temporary - weird huh? I never knew the vagus nerve could send someone's heart rate plummeting that low and the doctor told me that the only time this is life-threatening is if I were driving (I never have and don't intend to get a license), and presumably if I were standing on a ladder. The funny part is that I've never had this problem when getting blood samples taken. Only this one time. I still have yet to learn why this happened when it never happened before. Perhaps it was due to this ongoing distress.
Since then my insomnia has improved, and hopefully I'm starting to recover. But every now and then I suffer from these horrible thought loops about this, along with a sense of impending doom that tends to come and go, but it hasn't been as bad.
I know I will survive this, but it's been so damn hard, and although I've tried to tell my family I'm not sure if they realise just how close I was to actually dying (from that horse killer barbiturate) and just how horrific things could have turned out. To this day I still shed a tear when I think about how things could have been very bad. Honestly I just want the thoughts to stop because they just hurt so much. I want some rest, and I want peace from this, even temporary respite. I don't want to die, even though I am not scared of death, I want to live and not have my life fucked up by uncompassionate doctors who won't take me seriously or who patronise me. I am glad the barbiturates are gone. I feel sad that I was robbed of the chance to die peacefully if I came down with cancer, but I'm glad that I survived anyway. Hopefully legislative changes will mean I wouldn't have needed the barbiturates anyway...fingers crossed. It's amazing how your perspective can change so fast, as mine did.
I just want to live the same life that everyone around me appears to take for granted (or at least as it seems). Just to breathe that beautiful Central Coast air and feel the soothing radiance of the sun's rays, the smell of the ocean and the singing of the birds. I look forward to watching some bull ants forming new nests soon. A couple of stings from those fuckers would certainly take my mind off whatever it was that was bothering me, and I mean that in a funny and positive way
To sum it up; this experience has changed me. It has left an enormous mark on me and has changed the way I think about things. Now and probably forever. I look forward to being normal again. I just want to walk and breathe, and function and talk, and love life, like everyone else, just to feel good and to not be scared or hurt. I don't ever want to live in fear ever again. But you know what? It is what it is, and I will never take anything for granted ever again.
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I'm in Sydney and 3 of my siblings are doctors so I know a fair bit about our healthcare system.
. I'd taken some photos of the stuff including a barbiturate test kit that I'd used back in 2015 to find out if it was real. Sure enough it was the real deal and from a few test samples (200mg) it is easily the most potent substance I've ever encountered and 200mg hit me for six.
