Now we're all caught up. I might sift through other conversations I've had with people and fill in some gaps as-needed, but if you've been following along with this #braingate series, you know what I've been dealing with.
Yes, I admit that my frustration and anger have gotten the best of me a couple of times during my stay here.
Can you honestly blame me? How would you have done things differently had you been in my place? I had been as patient, calm, collected, and courteous as possible while dealing with the most excruciating pain I've felt in my life (it feels like my head's going to burst open when I'm not taking the new medications they're giving me) and marginalization towards my very humanity due to presumption and bias.
For all intents and purposes, I'm now regarded subhuman property.
I have been polite and courteous again, all day, despite the injustice that's been and continues to be done to me.
My strategy going forward is to fake it 'til I make it, play the perfect Stepford Patient they expect me to be, agree with all of their incorrect assertions and never question their professional integrity (doctors can be so arrogant), eventually get discharged when they decide I'm no longer their property, and head on over to a real hospital where I'll hopefully get real help.
Don't get me wrong, the benzos and the barbiturates that the doctors at Tufts are feeding me are helping keep the pain at bay and helping me feel more calm about my predicament. However, they are far from being the solution. I'm not a textbook case, and the people who "work" here don't seem to be motivated to challenge themselves beyond cases that are easy to treat, that follow a predictable pattern.
I don't know what legal remedies are available to me against those responsible at this hospital. However, I intend to explore my options.
I will be starting up a new Periscope livestream tonight at 8PM EDT. Check this blog, my Twitter feed, my Facebook timeline, or the Periscope app, itself (iOS, Android), if you'd like to ask me questions directly tonight. I intend to keep the livestream going as long as possible, informing all staff members that a live recording is taking place before they approach me. If they continue to approach me after this notification, I can only assume that they consent to be recorded.
If it's my word against theirs, I'm on the losing end of the argument. I need irrefutable proof.
This is war.
9:45 PM
...and just like that, they're discharging me. After they just got finished telling me that I was going to be on lockdown in the psych ward for at least three more days.
Tufts Medical Center is a poor excuse of hospital. I pity the good people who do good work here. Whoever is in charge of facilitating communication across the chain of command as well as patient advocacy needs to be fired. I'm beside myself. I will be obtaining copies of all records of my stay here. That is, unless they've conveniently lost them; I wouldn't put it past them at this point.
I'm going to go home tonight, I'm going to sleep in my bed with my lovely +Rachel, and I'm going to hope that the searing pain in my head doesn't return. The hospital is not going to send me home with prescriptions for either Fiorcet or Ativan; I'm completely on my own.
This is not over yet. The responsible parties will take responsibility for their actions. They will be made examples of. They will be the laughing stock of the medical world. Shame on them.
Tonight, I find respite after a workweek's worth of hell.
Tomorrow, I awaken to an entirely new world to me.
What will it have in store...?
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