There is a side effect of Chemo called Neuropathy. I have always had a pins and needle feeling in my feet. I never mentioned it to my Oncologist because it wasn't a quality of life issue. Once in a great while I would wake up in the middle of the night with this unbearable feeling in my feet. It is hard to describe the feeling that I get that wakes me up and makes me feel like I could go crazy if it continues. I think of fingernails scratching on a chalkboard. I would say that if my feet had a voice they would be screaming. My body scrunches up and I yell as I am pounding on my mattress wanting it to stop. I get out of bed and pound my feet on the floor.
That all changed this past week. For some reason my nerves in my feet decided that they would scream at me until I thought I would lose it. Every night Sam would wake up when he heard me yelp and he would rub my feet. Mina would hear me cry because her room is above mine. After seven days I decided that enough was enough and I went looking for help.
Because I am not financially sound I have to go to a clinic. They informed me that they could not see me until the following week. I told them that I could not wait. The world is filled with people who can't afford good quality care. I am just another one of those folks who are faceless and nameless. I finally landed in the ER.
I can just imagine what a mess I was with no shower. Perception is everything and I probably failed miserably on giving them the impression that I was a well put together individual. I told them my symptoms and they did this idiotic test by lightly brushing my feet asking me if I could feel it. I'm thinking, "Of course I can feel it. If I couldn't feel that I would be falling down you idiot." I told them that it was at night when I felt the nerve endings shooting up through my body. They told me they couldn't help me.
Being at the end of my rope I started crying. I was begging them to help me. Before I knew it they told me that I had to talk to a psychologist and they wheeled me around the corner. I'm thinking, "What the hell! It isn't my head! It is my feet!"
The psychologist sits down and in a very condescending manner asked me in a Mr. Rogers voice, "Do you know why you are here?" I'm looking at him probably with a stunned expression and I said, "I came to the ER because I am having problems with my feet." He went on and on saying that I wasn't giving the right impression. I tuned out after that and I told him I wanted to leave and go home. He told me that he had to make some phone calls. He walked away raising his hand as if to dismiss me and said to the four security guards that I was not free to go. I just sat there and said to the guards, "I only wanted help for my feet." I laugh now because I probably said I wanted help for my feet over 100 times.
He came back and told me that he found out that I had cancelled my therapy appointments and that made me noncompliant. I had to explain that my therapist was not a good match for me and I was frustrated because the clinic will not help me find a therapist that fits my needs. I wanted to smack the guy.
I feel like such an idiot because I guess the hospital put me under a Mental Hygiene Arrest. They never told me. They just wheeled me around a corner and told me I was not free to leave. Memories flood through me as I recall women who have told me that their husbands had admitted them to the psych ward and they didn't have a voice. I recall stories on how they had lost custody of their children because of the cruel treatment they had received. I was experiencing something out of my control and it made me feel sick. I just sat there realizing that I also had no voice.
I had given the psychologist Mina's phone number so that she could say that I wasn't a threat to myself or to others. He came back and said that he was waiting for her to call back. I frantically called my Mom with no luck. I called my good friend and he talked with her. She later told me that she just said that I was the most well put together individual in spite of the many things that I have to deal with on a day to day basis. Mina had finally called the guy and she informed him that she indeed had heard me crying because of my discomfort of my feet.
During this entire fiasco in the psych hall of the Emergency Department a guy walks by and asks if I am being helped. I said that I wasn't and I was having problems with my feet. I mean really, I wanted to scream. He did this test where he had something that looked like a letter opener and scraped my feet like he wanted to scrap off a layer of skin. That feeling of hard pressure on my feet felt like a comfort like no other. The only thing that makes the discomfort go away is pressure. He scraped my hands and I told him that it hurt. He said that I had Neuropathy and he prescribed Neurotin.
At this point I was free to go and the guards magically disappeared. That is when I realized that the guards were there for me.
Today I was ecstatic because I finally received help. After the first dose of Neurotin I had finally had a good night of blissful sleep. I was ready to continue on with my life. That is until three o’clock this afternoon when CPS came knocking on my door.
Definition of Mental
1.a: of, relating to, or being intellectual as contrasted with overt physical activity.
2.a: of, relating to, or affected by a psychiatric disorder <mental patient>.
b: mentally disordered, mad, crazy.
I choose being an intellectual as my definition of being mental.
*The photo that I use for my background was taken by Sam.
Unless someone is a danger to themselves or others, they cannot be held in the hospital- those are basic rights. This makes me soooo mad!!!
ReplyDeleteGlad you got relief for your neuropathy-I've heard it's terribly painful. Yay for Mina and Sam helping you! Great kids you've got!