In other news, it would appear the triage nurse neglected to do her job to the best of her ability and utilizing protocol to ensure the safety and proper treatment of the hospital's patients. My brother had informed me the first night about her being so busy when I first came to the facility and how she prattled herself about telling people left and right that I came in and wanted to kill my kid. Spreading her mis-information around like a bad disease. I didn't pay much heed at the time he said it as I was already upstairs and didn't think it mattered and thought her a busy-body, until this morning after the ordeal with my roommate and her doctor and the "plum fairy" and all. But after discussing yet again with the psychiatrist assigned to me about my ill state of mental health I soon came to the realization this "bitch of a bitch" had put that exact information in my chart. I was asked about my release request and was asked in turn if I had any more suicidal thoughts. I politely told Ms. Cuddeback that I wasn't in the mood to fight and we should be honest with one another. That this wasn't working for me and wasn't conducive to helping me and that yes, I did indeed have those thoughts but knew she had no wish at this point to help me. She agreed fair enough and then proceeded again to grill me about harming my child and I was patient with her, feeling guilty for unleashing my frustration the day before at having been asked that same question no less than fifty times, and told her again just like everyone else that when I came in it was under the advice of my treating psychiatrist who WAS going to Baker Act me with my consent, but felt no need to because I came willingly. I told her exactly what I said to the doctor and how he instructed me to tell them about my conversation with him so I can get treated and nip these feelings in the bud. I did tell the lady about joking with my doctor about how I wasn't "so bad" as I was some ten or more years earlier when I USED TO have thoughts of offing Laurel as well so as not to abandon her and leave her behind and that I felt I had come a long way now not having those thoughts and never having acted on them.(now think...if he had thought me a threat himself he would have called CPS right then and there and Baker Acted me immediately but he did not. He also doesn't have privileges at that hospital so those of you who think he may have set me up I believe to be wrong and still respect and admire the man for looking after my well being and not judging me and giving me exemplary help over the course of the last almost two years.) She looked at me and said that isn't what my chart said and I instantly knew that the triage nurse was not only not doing her job but also had compromised my home, my well being and my character by her assassination of me and her interpretation of what I said. She is merely a triage nurse and not a doctor and has no right to "interpret" what I say and was responsible for writing everything that I told her, as I told her and not what she thought I meant. I immediately told Ms, Cuddeback that her chart was lying and the fucking bitch who wrote it wasn't doing her job. I reiterated to her that if I so wanted I COULD get that notarized paper stating the fucking sky was puce but that didn't mean it was true and she should know well enough considering my state and intelligence that I have never once in fifty "grillings" swayed from my story, the truth, and that this blasphemy had repercussions. She breathed in and asked me what I intended to do if she let me out and I told her continue to see the three COMPETENT mental health professionals on my tab and to seek more help and guidance from properly trained people as to how to control the thoughts, as there hadn't been any deeds. Not in over fifteen years. She also asked me about how I used to think about doing myself in and I told her in detail and then told her why I couldn't ever go through with it once Laurel was in the picture, just as I had told my regular psychiatrist, because I was so afraid if I had drugged her and myself and I died and she didn't that she would be forced to live without both parents and with whatever damage the drugging cost her as well as the stigma of her mother's abandonment and mercy-killing attempt on her life along with a father none too willing to be there when she needed or asked. I could never guarantee and had rationalized that a LONG TIME ago and quelled those thoughts and they only came up in jest to point out how well I thought I was doing as opposed to then! She told me she would release me, as I threatened to be a nuisance and thorn in her side for the upcoming holiday and knowing full well that she would because we loved each other so much. She knew I wouldn't benefit from them any further and knew she had no designs on helping me, none of them did.
Now this nurse had a big responsibility in that she sees all ailing people the minute they come in desperate and looking for aide. Her main responsibility in that is to record EVERYTHING and what the person says and their chief complaints and in my case, to determine if I was a threat to myself and needed the observation by a medical and psychiatric doctor to determine if I truly needed the inpatient treatment that would benefit me. Not only did she fail to document the truth of why I was there correctly, but her action (or failure of) and her own perverse head-hunting misconception about what I needed sent a domino-effect chain of events that led to my being held against my will on a voluntary check-in, watched and treated inhumanely as a predator and criminal, as well as the disruption of my brother's (and mine and Lobo's now) home and good name and my good name. This led to me not being treated fairly or for the purpose of what I came in for to begin with as a responsible adult with a serious problem/illness and also, led to the prejudgment of me by her peers and the shunning I received. I wonder how many other charts she fuckered up and how many other lives as well. Was actually pondering that when the doc had informed me she already called CPS, AGAIN on me this time, and felt I would be a threat to my own child and possibly kill her eventually and myself, but it was out of her hands now as we were both in agreement there was nothing she could do besides try and re-Baker Act me over and over and keeping me a hostage while violating my civil rights. I started to cry and held back my tears and for the first time had not one single suicidal thought. I wanted to fix all of this and wanted to start with a "postal momo" that they would never forget, and then, I let the thought go and walked to her station and asked her for a grievance form. She was shocked, mortified really, and walked back to my room while everyone had their midday meals and proceeded to write my letter. Then in walks a man in a dark long-sleeved button down shirt and he had his hand in his back pocket and for the briefest of instance, I thought he was reaching for handcuffs and I finally burst into tears. He knelt beside me and calmed me down and I realized he was the investigator and he started to inquire my side of the story after telling me he just left my home. I told him everything, just as I am telling you and even the little insignificant shit you wouldn't think mattered and explained the whole ordeal about the original call from the therapist the night before about my brother being unfit because I considered his boisterous hollering a "stressor" (when pumped for dirt to try and get my kid away from me by the therapist). I told him I don't fear my brother and that I was only explaining to her having been abused by Lobo's dad and him yelling in the same way when he was angry triggered old fears and emotions but in no way did I consider him a bad father, brother or uncle and trusted him with my daughter's care while in here trying to get the help I felt I so desperately needed. She was asking me about stressors and such for future dischargement arrangements and to make sure I had a safe place to go home to-so she said. He said I didn't have to worry at all about that portion of the case as it has been closed and told me he met my beautiful daughter and that he has some concerns but not enough to warrant removing her from my care. I showed him my journal and the grievance letter I was in the middle of writing and for the first time someone, he, asked me how I was going to get myself better about the suicide so it doesn't have a lasting and damaging effect on my kid. I told him I was working on it and I already (years ago) spoke to my kid openly from day one about any and all issues to ensure that it didn't and that she was made aware of mommy's mental sickness and "notions" of her death and mine a long time ago and that we both were currently in counseling. Her for her grief at my poor health and coming to terms with me dying and the misplaced guilt she feels because she will outlive me with the same disease I am dying from and me for all my grief and torment. I told him I already have a standing appointment with my therapist every Wednesday and that I see my Psychiatrist and other doctor of mental health once a month. I promised him I would get back in with my psych and tell him about this mess of events and that I would keep in touch with him, the investigator (happily-too damn bad he's married 'cuz he's a cutie pie!), and if at any time I felt I was sinking again I will check myself back into the former facility and not this one. I asked him if he needed to notify my child's father and offered him his number so as to cooperate and not impede his job and he said there will be no report filed so no need to and that what was important was that I get help. No one has ever put me first or understood me and yielded to me without acting as if they lost a war. He did warn me he felt I still wouldn't get out of the place and bade me to cooperate if only just to get out of there and get proper aide and I told him that the doctor signed my release as I knew she would. He was a little shocked and made me sign a safety contract and told me I had an interesting brother and that I had done a good thing to sign a letter turning over temporary custody to him, before I left, in case she needed medical attention or something, to my brother's credit for asking me to do so. Between that letter and my love of writing so much that I felt necessary to keep that damn journal while trying to get help, to selfishly present it to you in my blog, had been all the proof he needed, to know I am not nor ever will be a threat to my kid. And he told me it is high time I learn not to be a threat to myself because not absolutely everyone is out to get me and he gave me his work and cell number if I ever needed to talk and winked and left.
Talk about proud! (and relieved) and pissed. I finished that goddamn grievance letter and turned it in and asked to use the phone to let my brother know that everything was fine and they said no. Ten minutes later a woman showed up with about a million apologies to me and started my outtake process and told me I would be going home as soon as the charge nurse gathered my things from the downstairs safe (IDs and such) and my contraband (smoking stuff and meds) from the unit's bins and that I can call for my ride. I wonder what those people on staff think about their policy and their procedures and their misjudgment of me and how their inability to "listen" to their patient will affect them in the future. I wonder what they think of their co-worker who ruined my "help" and my name, but not to the point I couldn't fix it. Several patients did not get the treatment they deserved or needed. The system failed because of human error and the need to persecute and find fault where none lies and the all too quick gaveled hand of people, based upon the mass-media of current events as they unfold like the mothers who recently made headlines because of killing their children. I understand the need for caution but there isn't a need to create a monster where there is none so you can hunt him/her down and exact justice and receive your fifteen minutes of fame when the camera pans to your happy and cheery face and you exclaim "I knew it because she had this look about her and I could tell right away she would do it and we just needed to get that kid to safety and I want to thank my mother for bringing me up right with the television as my babysitter and my husband for abandoning me and leaving me with nothing better to do than to piss on the people who are my job to aide.." And now, there are some fifty plus people who still may or may not think I am going to kill my kid and hope something bad happens to me first. Maybe even more if they all went home that first day and just told one person and they told one person and they....thinking I am going to knock off my kid who I have sacrificed everything for and owe my life to for had she not been here and mine all mine, I would have killed myself a long time ago. Imagine that! Your Miss Mobe killing her princess Lobo! (You guys know better!!)
The truth is the system is designed to fail because, and I have been saying this a long damn time and will continue to do so until everyone starts reading on the same damn fucking page...., if doctor's got everyone "better," then where would they work? If social workers got everyone off of welfare, then what would they have as a job? If cars and machines were built properly the way genius minds like myself and others' think, then when would we ever need to buy a second car/stuff, and what will the occupations do for a living. Heads up! It is ALWAYS going to fail because we created these systems to invent new jobs so as to not have to till land and sew clothes and speak to people properly the way it was intended and keep livestock. I did many things right without even trying and it saved my ass from a fate worse than death that would have had me foaming at the mouth and dead in a corner of my brother's house within ten minutes of them removing the one most precious thing in the whole fucking world to me, My beautiful daughter and princess to all the regality our heritage holds, of ancient and unworldly bloodlines who has fire and spark and intelligence and humor and darkness all her own and embraces it too, just as her mother does and isn't afraid of getting kicked around because like her mum, she likes a good fight and we play to win!
Cover your asses my children, document (whether it is a piece of paper that means nothing to you and I) and make sure you are honest. With yourself and them as I was, it does prevail. And the guilt you collect will always be a debt you can never repay back and it will poison your mind and infect your souls. Not only do you document everything, challenge everything and keep yourself informed of your health and medical issues and the laws governing your rights. No one else will do it for you. Listen to your bodies! Doctors are there to AIDE you in keeping you healthy and making you well and have to INTERPRET what ails you based on what you know about yourself and what you say about it. Look how long and who originally diagnosed my EPP...ME! It is called a PRACTICE for a reason as they are continually failing the quizzes they get and in my case, the final exams too. Same goes for the legal and financial worlds...Today a weakened and battered woman saved herself, her kid and her sanity and fought off one of her demons alone, if only for a short while until the next battle, and considers this a well deserved triumph in the face of adversity!~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
*note: Only one person was harmed in the making of this tragedy, me. Unlike myself who is aware of the ramifications of my actions, they did not know the damage to which they had caused and for me that is another win as they will not know unless reading this now by pure luck and won't gain any sick happiness from it. Remember the thrashing because of the lack of medications administered? Well all that thrashing had loosened some ligaments in one of my two broken knees and when I woke up and swung my legs to get out of their bed this morning, it buckled and dislocated, immediately going back in. I did not tell a soul and did not feel safe either for fear they would have kept me away from my kid another day out of guilt while half-assed trying to fix it. I did not trust them. I suffered through it, even limping to the phone and no one gave a damn so what good would telling them be? Also, not having my medications and an all to celebratory mood, I took my nieces and my Lobo to dinner and then to Walmart and now (GRAPHIC PHYSICAL EXPLANATION ALERT) some six hours later am evacuating my stomach and intestinal lining from the toxins that have flooded my system in the last few days and the lack of proper nutrition. My fecal matter is pure prophyrin liquid (not good) and black stool telling me that I am bleeding internally from my old ulcers and been exposed to too much light in the last few, again to which I have medication for and been without for several days. Even in the battle I received some scars making my sacrifice a testament to what she, my little girl, means to me and I wear them bravely and proud. I will be righted sure enough by the end of next week as far as the internals go because I know what my body needs and don't need to run to an MD every time something goes awry, and will be limping for some time longer as I am older and dislocations do take longer than before to tighten back up the ligaments-to which I will exercise and do calisthenics to achieve almost to where it was. It will take me some months and between healing with a grin and getting a lawyer, to practice on them, and fighting to keep my insurance, I have a full plate of "yes ma'am I am AWESOME!" lmao...glad to be back and missed you all almost as much as my cats and my kid! *giggles
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