Safety for People with Autism and Other Hidden Disabilities

Red Medical Cross Picture with White Medical Symbols Inside It

Attribution given;  <a href=”http://www.freepik.com/free-photos-vectors/background”>Background vector designed by Olga_spb – Freepik.com</a>

I missed a week of blogging due to the difficulty I’ve been having with my Dysautonomia and my ASD (Aspergers) and the effects of the trauma from what has happened at Emory. I’ve experienced several full-on meltdowns due to all the stress and the barriers I’m encountering in trying to get my healthcare back on track.  

Meltdown

I’ve been having fitful sleep interrupted by nightmares which are clearly due to the bullying I’ve suffered. The theme is always some sort of sabotage. In the nightmares I’m trying to achieve some goal and somebody comes along and destroys whatever I’m doing and I end up in some sort of danger as a result.

In one such bad dream I had lit a match in order to relight the pilot light on a stove and someone came up behind me and knocked the match out of my hand.

Closeup of a business man with his hands behind his back and fin

Closeup of a business man with his hands behind his back and fingers crossed. Torso and hands only, man is unrecognizable.

It fell from my hand and behind a dresser. I tried pushing the dresser aside but it was too heavy. Meanwhile the room quickly burst into flames as the fire spread from the carpet to the drapes and soon everything was engulfed. I then found that I couldn’t move to escape it no matter what I did. Just as I was about to be burned alive I woke up in a panic. It took quite awhile before I could fully come out of it and realize it wasn’t really happening.

Burning Up

In another dream  I was getting ready to mail a very important letter and I was in some sort of cabin in the wilderness that was at the edge of a steep canyon. In order to mail the letter I had to climb down somehow on the edge. There was a crack in the wall handmade from plywood overlooking the drop below and the letter got stuck in that crevice. I tried to pull it out and was relieved when I could do it, but as soon as I did, along came somebody from behind me who swiftly pulled it from my grasp and shoved it through the crack in the wooden wall. The letter fell and was gone hundreds of feet below, never to be retrieved again.

House at Edge of Cliff

Alot of times the sabouteur comes from behind me and I don’t see their face. I can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman because they never say anything and I wake up before I can turn around and look.

In addition to the element of danger in these dreams there is alot of uncertainty.

Out-On-A-Limb-450x322

All this got me thinking about just how crucial it is to build a plan for safety. People with Autism and other hidden or misunderstood conditions are especially vulnerable to abuse and neglect in a number of settings; for instance, police officers often mistake people with epilepsy for being publicly intoxicated,

Glowing brain

and many people with such conditions as Autism, Dystonia, and Dysautonomia as well as other poorly publicised conditions are mistreated in healthcare settings just as I was.

This is something that is not spoken about nearly enough in the news or in other public forums but doing so may very well save lives.

Here are some things you can do to help prevent falling victim to those who might abuse, neglect, or exploit you thinking you’re an easy target because you’re in a wheelchair, you’re frail, have communication or cognitive difficulties, or have other disadvantages which may leave you in a compromising position.

Safety First Life Preserver

1) Wear a medical alert bracelet;

Try to get as much pertinent information on it as possible that people would need to know in an emergency and/or if you are misinterpreted in the workplace, school, by medical personnel, or law enforcement, or in any other public place.

If you can, list a contact person you know who is willing to be contacted and can advocate for you to explain your needs. Nowadays there are many types of bracelets on the market that you can buy. Some of them are even nice looking! See some medical alert bracelets on Etsy .

2) Carry a medical alert card at all times;

You may be able to fit even more information on the card than you can the bracelet but you should try to have both since somebody may not think yo look in your wallet if you are unable to tell them to do so. This organization came up with some Autism Alert Cards you can customize. This company located in the UK sells bracelets that include cards with them.

3) Carry an official diagnosis document at all times;

this can be any official letter you have which proves your diagnosis (if you have this documentation). If not, you should speak with someone about obtaining one. This can be a testing report, a letter from a doctor or therapist written to whom it may concern, or if neither are available, something from your medical record with your official diagnosis on it.

Taking notes

Ideally you should have something not only listing your diagnosis but specifying what your limitations and special needs are, any medications or treatments which need to be given, etc. If you have a supportive doctor or other medical professional, his/her name and contact number should be on this paperwork if at all possible.

4) Bring a buddy with you to the hospital;

In the ER

If you have some advance notice that you’re going to the ER or checking into the hospital on direct-admission try to arrange for somebody to come with you.

Emotional Support

It should be someone whom you have spoken with in advance about your needs and limitations; preferably somebody assertive who will not have a problem speaking up to authority figures in your defense while still remaining calm and rational.

This person can keep an eye out for you and can also act as a witness in case anything goes wrong. If they have a cellphone they can also videotape if somebody is mistreating you.

On Cellphone

If you don’t have anyone in your life to fulfill that role be sure to contact one or two people before leaving and let them know which hospital you’re going to (and if possible give them the phone number so they can call and check on you). Bring your laptop or some other mobile device that has internet access. That way you can give them updates.

Making Plans

One of the things I learned as a patient advocate years ago is that people who have someone actively checking on them are less likely to be abused or neglected because it’s more difficult for perpetrators to get away with it and the likelihood is that they’ll get caught. This is often enough of a deterrant and they won’t even attempt it. (I’m pretty sure that if I had had somebody willing to go with me or meet me at the hospital in December that my incident wouldn’t have ever happened).

Taking these steps can’t guarantee you will never be victimized but they can make it much less likely.

If you do find yourself in a situation in which you’re abused, neglected, or exploited, be sure to document as much as you can about exactly what happened. Take down names, times, dates, what they did that they shouldn’t have, and/or what they didn’t do that they should have, etc.

Then I would recommend contacting The Dept. of Health and Human Services and filing an Office of Civil Rights Complaint.

Filing with State regulatory agencies in my experience is often a complete waste of time, as usually doctors are automatically believed carte blanche by such decision-making bodies and therefore it is not a level playing field. Usually such investigations consist of review of the records to see if anything “not meeting the standard of care” is documented (and of course doctors aren’t going to rat on themselves or each other in a patient’s record), they write up the perpetrator’s side of the story, and send it to the patient.

In some of the more progressive states filing a complaint with the state medical licensing board might yield results if the malfeasance was committed by a doctor, but often doctors are reluctant to discipline their peers (the medical boards utilize doctors to investigate the claims and determine the outcome, if any). Generally they have the option of making any action taken either public or private. If they take private action they might keep that secret and not even let you know they are doing anything about it at all.

How You Can Help Now;

You can also send letters now to HHS asking that they make Institutional Bullying of medical patients/people with disabilities an added Civil Rights violation in the same way it’s interpreted in statutes for Institutional Racism. Please also ask that clear-cut consequences be specified in any new legislation and/or amendments.

capitol-diagram

Given that this is an election year this is the perfect time for you to send your letters! The more of us who write and make our voices heard the sooner we can make this type of abuse a thing of the past and prevent others from having to endure these atrocities in the future.

 

Sylvia Burwell 1250x650

 HHS HeadQuarters                                                                        

US Dept. of Health & Human Services                                

Attn: Secretary Sylvia Burwell                                                  

200 Independence Ave., S.W.                                

Washington, D.C 20201

Phone (Toll Free); 1 (877) 696-6775

Go here to file your official grievance if you have been discriminated against because of your condition and/or not given reasonable accommodations for your special needs. You can file by snail mail, email, fax, or via their online webform. (All communication options and requirements are explained on their website on the paged linked-to above).

Safe place .svg

Although this is covered under current law there are still many people who unfairly make allowances for it when this happens to people who are ill and/or disabled in a way they would not with other minority groups. There should be a zero tolerance policy for this type of discrimination and a recognition by all that this is every bit as heinous (in many instances even  more so because this population is at a greater disadvantage than most other minority groups)

And now for a good protest song;

This Land Is Our Land

 

Advertisements

Yummy Treats that Treat What Ails You; Not Waiting For Hell To Freeze Over

500 Mg. CBD Infused Chocolate Covered Pistachios and Free 50 Mg Hard Candies DSC_0010

 Made from hemp with no THC content to make you high, many CBD edibles are not considered an FDA-regulated substance and are legal in all 50 states!  CBD (Cannabidiol) is basically considered a  neutraceutical or nutritional supplement. Medical cannabis is growing in acceptance each day offering another natural alternative to traditional medicines. Many patients find they need less narcotic pain medication when using this regularly.

I decided when things began to go south that it was finally time to take things into my own hands obtain some medicine that doesn’t require a prescription from Dr. Slow-as-Molasses.

This has been on my to-do list for some time but with everything I’ve had on my plate and all the evaluations to set up and all the fires to put out around Emory and testing and orders, etc. I just now have gotten around to putting in an order for some edible CBD (Cannabidiol) Cannabis infused items.

I bought 2 packages 500 Mgs. each of CBD infused chocolate covered pistachios. The woman who made them, Carrie, of CBD The Healthy Choice on Etsy was very helpful and recommended I start out with 2 or 3 nuts (which is about 5 Mgs.) and work up from there until I notice relief. I started with 3 yesterday. I even got 3 free hard candy hearts, each of them 50 Mgs. a piece as a bonus for my purchase!

500 Mg. CBD Infused Chocolate Covered Pistachios - 1 starting dose in hand DSC_0011

This is my first time trying edibles and I must say they are delicious! I couldn’t even taste the CBD! For those of you thinking of trying this option I’ll continue to post in my blog how it goes as I ramp up.

It was hard for me to limit myself to just these 3 because they were so tasty, but it’s important to remember that just as with any other medicine they can have some side-effects if you overdo it. Depending on the strain used some types can be adrenergic, especially the Sativa strains, and patients who were overzealous have on occasion ended up in the emergency room. Indica has a more calming effect, but at the time of this writing I’m not sure what variety was used in the making of these I purchased. I’m in the process of obtaining that information so that if this relieves my symptoms I’ll really know what works and can keep track. Eventually I’d like to compare several strains.

Since I don’t know yet how my body will react I think I’ll just increase it one nut a day. Today I’ll take 4.

This is very hopeful, and I could really use some hope right now. Since I haven’t been getting much in the way of real treatment other than pills to control the individual symptoms this powerful medicine just might make what I have to face alot easier, both physically and emotionally. Maybe in addition to helping my movement disorder it will help reduce my fear so that by the time I see the movement disorder specialist in July I won’t panic when he does his exam.

I want to wait a little for the jitters to die down after seeing the one at Emory but have a possible lead on a local neurologist outside of Emory. I’m also working on getting something set up with Vanderbilt too in order to get my Dysautonomia officially diagnosed and finally put all this controversy to bed. Emory just seems to bring more drama and it’s really exhausting. I hope I can find my way out of that system soon, at least except for seeing my pulmonologist and maybe for a few targeted services.

There is a center in Texas I contacted as well that does the Tilt table test and while it sounds like they do a fairly state of the art one, they don’t seem to do many of the other autonomic tests that Vanderbilt or Mayo does, and Texas is an 11 hour drive, so if they miss it that’s a long way to go for nothing. I’ll have to see how feasible that will be in terms of logistics. Which ever clinic I choose to do the assessment I really need to come home with a piece of paper for it to be worth my while.

I’m beginning to have a pretty clear idea now what the global underlying condition is encompassing all my symptoms, (Myoclonus, Dystonia and Dysautonomia included). It has been a long process of narrowing things down but I think I’m closing in.

I guess most of my current doctors will feel disgruntled that I figured it out before they did and have bruised egos having been outdone by a “mere” patient, but the truth is if they really care (or ever did) they should be happy to have somebody figure it out and start treating it sooner rather than later whether it’s me, or the local home repair guy. I’ve always been several steps ahead of them and when you’re suffering and most of the doctors are sitting on their hands, sometimes you’ve just got to take the bull by the horns and work with what you’ve got.

Given that I may not have complete control of what my body does, now or in the future, at least there are a few things I can control and that is some comfort.

Another blog called The Cannabist reviews various such products. The writer, Brittany Driver, lives in Colorado, home of one of the first states to fully legalize. In her blog she documents her own experience in using edibles for her back pain. Hers did contain some THC though (approximately 53%), as Colorado’s laws are more lenient about that than many states.

Stay tuned to see the results of my little experiment.

Please leave a comment below even if just a sentence or two to let me know what you think. I hope my experiences will help and empower others struggling with chronic and hard-to-treat diseases and disorders.

Sometimes our greatest challenges generate opportunities we never expected.  🙂

May you all find your silver lining.

Power to the patients!

 

Bull In A China Shop General Neurologist

Girl Stop! Oh No You Didn't! DSC_0001

Friday morning filled me with a sense of foreboding. I showered, dressed, and prepared some coffee, trying my best to distract myself and do comforting things so as not to be too terrified of the early afternoon appointment with the neurologist at Emory’s General Neurology Clinic.

As much as I’d gone over it in my mind what I was going to say, and telling myself I could always say no to things I couldn’t help but shed some tears as I waited in the kitchen with my dog, Carmella for the transportation van to pick me up and deliver me to some unknown fate; good or bad, I didn’t know. Despite my best attempts to stay calm I felt like poultry aware of its impending slaughter with every passing minute.

I told myself that at least by going in there even if just to talk to her I’d be established in case I needed one of the specialty clinics later on once the independent evaluations were completed over the next few months, and maybe I wouldn’t be as frightened when the time came to see the out of town Movement Disorder specialist.

It wasn’t long before the driver was knocking on my door, a heavy-set black guy who looked to be somewhere in his 30s. I rushed out in my power wheelchair dressed in black and white long-sleeve print shirt, bright red cotton pants, and a camel brown coat which had soft faux fur on the inside. In my hurry halfway down the ramp to the driveway I realized I’d forgotten my pillow and thought “Oh damn, now my neck is going to kill me by the time this is over” as my wheelchair doesn’t have a proper headrest or any neck support, but it was too late to go back and get it.  I had my usual Styrofoam cup of ice water with me and everything else I needed, so I ventured out hoping for the best.

When I reached the waiting van another guy got out and let down the left and I loaded up, then positioned my chair so that they could secure it to the fixtures in the floor. Being that I have a Hoveround, these guys never know how to attach it, so I had to show them where the hooks could be connected so that the ride would be safe. With a little tinkering they got it hooked up and the second man who was chubbier than the first sat down on a bench behind and to the right of me. Halfway down my street as we pulled away I heard loud snores coming from the man behind me. I glanced over and he had dropped his cellphone, slumped over in a half-sitting-half reclining position. I motioned to the driver who seemed unphased  though slightly amused and he remarked “Oh yes, he does this all day. All day. It’s just part of the package.”

As we neared our destination the man in the seat behind me was snoring so loud I thought he might have a stroke. I mentioned to the driver that he might want to look into having a sleep study done and said that if the company provided health insurance he could have it done in this same building, that for someone to be sleeping that much on the job wasn’t normal and there had to be something medically wrong. The driver said he was glad someone else noticed and that they’d have to look into that as it would be a good investment, given that he didn’t know whether this guy would keep his job if this continued.

I entered the building, then went to the 5th floor. The waitingroom was modern with a curved wooden front desk and a young woman with black-rimmed glasses and long black hair who appeared to be Indian or Pakistani descent sat behind it on the left, and a young man sat at another computer terminal on the right. A flat screen TV was on mounted on the wall on the left side of the room. There were only a few other patients there sitting in danish-style wooden chairs that were positioned in two rectangular formations on each side with a space for people to walk through in the center.

I went over to the woman behind the reception desk and checked in, and was told that the doctor was running a little late because of a meeting but would be out shortly.

It looked like a group of about 10 men and women filed in and down the hall to the rooms to the back just as I positioned myself near a small end table. I fidgeted a little, rubbed the inside of my furry coat, then decided to get out some pieces of ice to suck on. An elderly man and his wife sat down just to the right of me, and it never fails, when I want to be discreet something like this always happens. The ice had melted slightly and stuck together so a piece I was trying to break off flew across and landed on the carpet in front of me out of reach. Thee wasn’t much room to maneuver my wheelchair and I was afraid I might run over the wife’s foot if I went to pick it up, so I wasn’t sure what exactly to do. Luckily the woman asked if she could help me and got up and deposited it in the sink on the other side near the TV. I thanked her and then got a few pieces of ice, reached over to pick up a National Geographic magazine and began flipping through it to find an article that interested me. Finding one about wolves in Canada I began reading, anything to distract myself. 15 or 20 minutes later a young black woman with thing braided hair extensions called me back to one of the exam rooms. I followed her to one of the ones on the left off the main hall and she took my vital signs.

I asked her to take the BP in my left arm because my right was in quite a bit of pain. It was the muscle that runs near the inside of my elbow to forearm that I’d injured brushing my hair in October the morning before seeing Dr. Trotti, the temporary neurologist connected with the sleep center.

As is often the case my diastolic blood pressure was high. My new patient forms and medication sheet sat on the small nook-like desk by a computer screen. The room was small and minimally decorated with a flat table to the right of where I was sitting and cabinets and a small counter on the left near the door. There was a rolling chair by the computer.

The nurse asked me a few questions, two which I choked out a rather weak and breathy response, told me she hoped I’d feel better, and said the doctor would be in shortly. My arm ached, my neck and back ached, even the muscles in my legs ached and I wished I were home, safe in my bed. I realized my watch had stopped but there was no clock on the wall anywhere. I read some more of the magazine and fiddled with the fur on my coat some more trying to quell the panic rising in my throat. Each minute that passed seemed like an hour.

Then finally there was a knock at the door. It opened and in walked a rather plump woman with a round face who looked almost nothing like the profile picture on Emory’s website. In the picture she was slim and looked no more than 17, but here in person she appeared to be somwhere in her mid to late 30s, rotund, her hair, a streaked blond like in the picture but with more body and cut slightly shorter, a few inches longer than shoulder-length.

She extended her hand. “Hi, I’m D.V.” (gentle hand-shake); so far so good. Although the information on the website said shed been trained in Bogata, Colombia she had almost no accent. Taking a seat in the chair across from me a few feet away she proceeded to tell me she’d read my record. (“Oh shit!”) I thought, and wondered which ones she’d read. I dared not ask, not wanting to open a can of worms. She asked me what brought me in and I recapped my symptoms and referenced what I’d written in the new patient paperwork. I gave her a brief rundown of the history and progression over the past 6 months and after just a few sentences she moved towards where I was sitting in my wheelchair and asked me if I could take a few steps, which I did, then sat back down.

I had already decided all I wanted to do was talk that day, but apparently she had other plans. I watched her carefully to see what she was going to do.

Taking out a penlight she shined it in my eyes. After looking at my eyes she asked me to look at her finger from side to side, up and down.

I tolerated that but in my own mind told myself that was going to be as much as I was going to take of anything of a physical nature. I didn’t know her and didn’t know her agenda just yet and the man who had hurt me with such exam had left a nasty imprint on my limbic system that I couldn’t shake no matter how I tried. I knew only too well that women were capable of great treachery as well even if they seemed kind on the surface. Gone forever were the days when I took people at face value. I tried that and saw where it got me. I wouldn’t be so trusting this time.

She took out her tools in a small towel and laid them on the bench and that’s when I freaked!

“Could we not do that right now?” I said, trying to sound pragmatic, not wanting to show just how panic-stricken I actually was inside. My relative composure completely went out the window when she pulled out the hammer. It was a smaller one than the one Dr. M. had used, and more of a rounded type, but nevertheless it was still a hammer. I was having a bad pain day and was in no mood for this. Every fiber of my being, every strand of my muscle was screaming (“No absolutely not!”). If I could have jumped over the back of my chair and run I would have at that moment. I backed away as far as my chair would let me, but she made no move to put it down. “I had a bad experience with a neurologist!” I blurted out in a last ditch effort to get her to back off.

“I’m going to do it on me; not directly on you” she said placing her thumb between me and the hammer. I was shaking my head no knowing that still didn’t change anything. Then seeing there was no escape I braced myself. Her thumb was little buffer for the impact and although it wasn’t near as hard as what I’d had in December it didn’t exactly tickle.

The primal self came back and took over. I felt like a trapped animal, drawing up and cringing at each blow as though I was going to come out of my skin. It seemed as though she was trying to hurry it up but it was as though I left my body for fragments of seconds throughout although on one level I was aware of my body struggling. I’m not exactly sure where my consciousness was but it seemed as though it was receded tucked as far away inside as possible.

It seemed as though every nerve and neuron was on overload.

Once she finished with the hammer she went about putting her hand under at the back of each knee and jerking up sharply and something similar with my arms. This elicited  severe spasticity in all 4 of my limbs, and eventually the back-bend arching movements I sometimes have.

After that and pushing and pulling on various muscles she commented after she went back to her seat across the room that she thought it wasn’t so much weakness but spasticity that is the problem. She recommended physical therapy “to relax the muscles” and said she wasn’t suggesting regular types of exercises, but stretching. When I said that massage also helps she said that’s because it relaxes the muscles “and the mind”. I made a mental note that she put that in and hoped that she wasn’t using that as a sneaky way to make it all in my head as Dr.M. (AKA The Dark Man) had said.

Then she told me it’s possible that my Sarcoidosis could be causing this and the Dysautonomia if it has reached certain parts of the brain or nerves. She also said that it can affect nerves in the hip. I have been having pain in that area, especially the left hip and gluteus muscle. She seemed to be leaning strongly on the hypothesis that it’s my Sarcoidosis in brain and/or hip nerves and didn’t think the spinal findings and TMJ would be interfering with nerve impulses.

Then her demeanor turned kind of intense. “What are you taking for your Sarcoidosis now?”

“Benicar, off-label every 4 hours; the Marshall Protocol” I replied.

“You realize the medication is not working” she said rhetorically. “Have you been on Prednisone?”

“Briefly”

“And what was the result?’ she asked.

“It wasn’t good. Extreme rage. I can’t risk that” I replied.

“If we do find that your Sarcoidosis is active and affecting the brain you really need to think about going on immunosuppressants”.

By immunosuppressants the dreaded heavy-duty disease-modifying agents like Enbrel and Remicaid were what she was referring to. Her eyes seemed to drill into mine. Time slowed to a standstill. I fought back tears and told her how I’d outlived many people I’d come to know in the Sarcoidosis patient community because I’d not taken that route. I saw too many people end up with complications that were as bad or worse than the disease, some ending up requiring transplants and pacemakers because of the damage done to their organs, only to die a horrible death. These people died way too young.

I told her I was afraid that after the 10 years I had to go off the Marshall Protocol it might have been too late for it to be effective when I went back on it and maybe that’s why it isn’t working anymore.

“If it’s affected the brain on this level then probably so. We need to do a gallium scan to find out, and I want to look at your MRI film from Piedmont.”

“OK, but they didn’t see anything. I’ve heard it doesn’t always show up in imaging anyway.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t always just show up and say “See, here I am.” It occurred to me that this was the first time I detected her accent.”If it turns out” she continued, “that it is your Sarcoidosis, if the gallium scan lights up anything we won’t need to do more tests, but if not we will need to. If it is your Sarcoidosis then you really really need to go on immunosuppressants.”

I could no longer keep eye contact. This was becoming too much and I fell silent, just waiting for it to be over. She was still looking at me when I glanced back. “Okaaaaaay???”

The words wouldn’t come out. I was in total lockdown for what seemed like an eternity but was probably not more than about a minute in actual time. It was not OK at all.

I think she repeated it about 3 or 4 times. The pressure was like a thousand pound weight. It was the same feeling I had when the nurse practitioner in Gastroenterology kept pushing me to have a colonoscopy when I can’t withstand the stuff you drink and its effects because of my Dysautonomia. You just know you can’t do something and you find yourself unable to speak.

I knew then that beyond these tests it was not going to work.

This was further confirmed by the fact that she is 9 months pregnant and going on maternity leave until May starting next week, that she is somewhat lackadaisical about responding to her patients on the patient portal, and that sometimes a nurse practitioner or another doctor sees her patients.

She didn’t seem like she was exactly going out of her way to win me over, and damn it, after what I’ve been through any neurologist worth their salt better be!

I’m all for accommodation in the workplace for women who want to have children, but quite honestly I don’t need someone who is distracted and divided right now, whose head is not in the game. I need someone who has the time to devote because what I’m dealing with medically requires it in order to do the job right. I also need a neurologist who truly gives a damn and respects my boundaries. I wish I could see Dr. W. She did, but it seems like I’m caught in a terrible catch 22; those doctors I feel comfortable with for one reason or another can’t or won’t do it, and I’m left with the ones who don’t get it and don’t care to.

When I got back up to the front desk the man who was dealing with release forms and orders handed me the physical therapy order. It wasn’t until I got home and looked at it more closely that I realized it didn’t reflect the mere stretching she’d told me verbally she was recommending. The interventions said “Gait training, Functional movement”, and “Exercise” (not specifying stretching). I’m tired, and I don’t just mean this week, this month, or this year, but existentially tired, and I need rest. Rest and true, genuine kindness.

The Big Picture; Goals, Plans, and Support

Drawing of Girl In Windowsill

The past week has been a series of gains and losses, trying to get as many things in order as possible, but having to wait for others to do their part, and aside from my pulmonary function tests, it’s going nowhere fast. I’m trying not to lose hope but it feels like just when some progress is about to be made it stalls because some key piece isn’t done (and it’s always something I can’t do myself, such as writing an order).

Updated paperwork for the Barium Swallow test My GP ordered in December is on hold, doctor’s notes faxed to Shepherd Center for my Wheelchair pressure mapping is on hold. Home healthcare is on hold until my GP can get a plan written, and somehow between the last two times we talked something changed and now he’s taken back his promise to write the order for the IV Saline to treat the Dysautonomia. Based on what? The documentation from Home Healthcare; nurse’s notes from taking about 1 blood pressure a week; only based on that, which of course isn’t enough to show anything. He has the records now from Piedmont with BP readings that were wildly dysregulated for 11 days, and I’m not miraculously cured, so I wonder, what gives?

Is he afraid that Dr. M. and his saboteurs will attack him for treating me when every symptom is not going on every minute of every day? Or does he think that Dysautonomia isn’t that big a problem and patients should just suffer through it? The constant fatigue, weakness, exercise intolerance, chronic constipation, constant thirst, pain, and getting cold 10 times a day and then hot when I add a layer of clothing, waking up feeling faint, intermittently purple feet, and unsettled GI tract beg to differ.

He says we’re at an impasse and I need to come in (which I’ll gladly do but his first long appointment isn’t until March and there’s lots to talk about so I don’t want to have it cut short and then have to come back). It’s alot to demand of my body to go to the doctor’s appointments I’m attending this week.

My GP thinks a neurologist could handle this better than he, but the truth is most of them don’t know anymore about Dysautonomia or Dystonia than he does. These are two orphan disorders that exist in a sort of no-man’s land. I seem to be cursed with these damned things. Why couldn’t I get something common and well-researched, but no, I always seem to get the health problems that nobody really gives a crap about.

At this point I would almost welcome a diagnosis of Parkinson’s Disease since everybody wants to work on that. Right now I’m laughing at the irony of it all, but give me a minute and I’ll probably be crying when it dawns on my just how screwed I am. I’m in the wrong part of the country for what’s wrong with me. The foremost experts are not at Emory.

I fear tomorrow like the plague. The very thought of seeing another neurologist, especially a general one I don’t know and has no reviews scares the hell out of me. She’s a woman and one would think women are more gentle and generally kinder than male neurologists but one can’t be too sure, as there are always exceptions, and as we have seen from Dr. H., sometimes women doctors can be very deceptive even when they seem to be on your side.

If any more harm comes to me at the hands of these doctors I don’t know if I can take it. I’ve been through enough already and it’s time that I get some support from a neurologist that values me and won’t treat me like I’m making this up or crazy, or some hypochondriac and doesn’t feel threatened because I can think for myself and be an active participant in my own healthcare. I do all this researching because nobody else will and if I don’t look out for me then who will? I have no spouse to have my back, no family that makes sure I’m safe, nobody else to go down to Emory’s Administration when I’m not treated with respect and dignity and demand that something be done. There is just me here, and a dog and a snake.

And now my GP is becoming paralyzed with inertia. My pulmonologist is being very supportive, but there are things he can’t do that my GP can and should do as the doctor who has known me for 12 years and has seen me at death’s door and knows that can happen again if too much in my body malfunctions. I am teetering on a very sharp edge between stability and instability and my body is still unpredictable. The only reason I’m somewhat stable right now is that I’m seriously hunkering down in my bed. We are just treating the symptoms with medications; none of which are disease-modifying, so there’s no telling what might happen. I don’t want to end up in the ER again and get abused or neglected like last time. They won’t understand, most likely, and I can’t take the risk.

The whole idea of Saline infusion is to be proactive and to stabilize the Autonomic Nervous System over time; not just to put out fires when someone is in dire straights like I was in November and December. This can prevent the need for emergency hospitalization if maintained. In an article written by Dr. Santa Maria, a Boca Raton, Florida doctor who regularly treats Dysautonomic patients in his clinic he says; “It is best to give saline preemptively on a regular schedule instead of on an emergency basis when a patient is already in the depths of their worst symptoms. Regular hydration can provide a sense of stabilization and normalcy for patients, allowing them to have more control over their bodies, health and ultimately—their lives.”

Dr. T., (the temporary neurologist I’d hoped would be permanent several months ago) has now agreed to see me for my Myoclonus and will refill my Keppra prescription but I had to make a follow-up appointment which isn’t until July; just a week before my consult with the out-of- state movement disorder specialist. I wrote and told her I wish it wasn’t so far away because I would like to discuss alot of these neuro issues with her.

Maybe there is something she can do to bridge the gap even if she doesn’t feel she has the skills to manage all the neuro conditions. Perhaps she can speak with the specialist on my behalf and help pave the way so that I won’t waste a trip up there and leave empty-handed.

I downloaded and took a closer look at the report of the cervical spine MRI she had ordered and interestingly it showed some foraminal narrowing at C5 – C6 and C6-C7 due to the bulging discs, and the one done at Piedmont hospital just a month later did not show that but had alot more degenerative facet findings on C2 through C6 on both sides. It just goes to show that alot of these test results are dependent on who is interpreting them, but it also makes me wonder whether degeneration can really progress that quickly in just one month (or maybe this is something other than degeneration they’re seeing and dismissing). To look at the two reports you’d think you were looking at two different patients.

The thoracic spine scan says “bulging discs  noted @ L1-L2 w/compression of disc sac”.

Seems to me that with all those spinal findings and the TMJ it shouldn’t be hard to deduce that I have Dystonia. We’ll see whether this neurologist tomorrow figures it out. If she knows anything about Dystonia it should be evident to her. If not, then most likely she is not the right doctor for me.

As for the Dysautonomia it will be a miracle if she’s versed in that, as most general neurologists’ knowledge is limited to classic POTS at the very most.

I’m still looking for a silver lining in all of this but it’s getting hard to find one. I can only hope that some benevolent force greater than myself is watching over me tomorrow.

 

 

A Few Lateral Moves, but an Ace In The Hole

Luck

Last week I saw my Pulmonologist. Although I was nervous after recent events that he would have doubts about me I was pleasantly surprised to find him just as warm as ever and I think in fact that his learning of the ER debacle only cemented our bond further. Much as these cliquish people would like to see all my doctor/patient relationships destroyed they are not getting their wish. My pulmonologist was hoping I would have already gotten in to Dr. G’s clinic by now, and was appalled at what had happened to me at the ER in December.

This is the one doctor who the evil Dr. M. and his group of bullies cannot screw around, intimidate, nor manipulate, as he is very meticulous about his documentation and he backs up his diagnoses with good, hard data. He is not arrogant (which is nice), but he has the courage of his convictions and is genuinely a good guy who really wants to help his patients. I told him I figure my chances now of ever getting into Dr. G’s clinic are most likely blown due to the actions of those ER doctors and their libelous statements. He said he was not so sure about that. Seriously, I could just hug him right now!

He is the one doctor whom none of the 4 person wrecking crew tried to attack; they knew that if they dared try challenge his work that he would mop the floor with them, as his positions are backed up by 3 sleep studies and he’s pretty iron-clad.

What they didn’t realize is that Dr. T., who is a perfectly good neurologist (but works in the Sleep Lab) looked at those sleep study tapes in order to diagnose my Myoclonus. She, unlike Dr. M., does have a background in Movement Disorders and it was not hard for her to diagnose by seeing the movements in action. Dr. M. and Dr. T.T.J. (neither of which have published in medical journals had arrogantly decided to disregard Dr. T’s diagnosis  based on the gross tests done at Piedmont Hospital. I guess they underestimated her. She has published on sleep disorders as early indicators of neurological disease, by the way.

Nice try, dufuses, but it’s not always due to a structural lesion. It can be neurochemical or electrical in origin and still be very real.

Sometimes doctors in the ER really make fools of themselves when they think they know everything.

My Myoclonus continues to this day (and not only upon falling asleep, although mostly. It also manifests in my shoulders when I get too cold), and it has responded to Keppra at 1000 Mgs./day, reducing the severity and how long it goes on quite a bit. It was Dr. T. who put me on it, and Dr. W. (the admitting neurologist at Piedmont) who increased the dosage to an optimum level. Although it’s not a cure, the fact that it vastly reduces it tells us that the drug is acting on some pathway in the brain. It is highly unlikely to be placebo effect or chances are by now I would be back to being kept awake until 7 AM each night. Thankfully I am not.

It’s been more than disappointing; the non-advocacy provided by Emory’s “Patient Advocate”, T. J., who showed her obvious bias after only our second phone conversation, and still has not answered my questions entirely regarding whom she asked what during her mickey mouse investigation, but I believe that eventually I will be vindicated and those who sought to discredit me and sabotage my healthcare will suffer the consequences of their malicious actions, and so will she for being so dismissive of my very legitimate grievance.

I have had shortness of breath on and off throughout the appearance of these neuromuscular symptoms which seems to come in clusters and then I don’t have it for a few weeks or months, but then it comes back. I’ve had it several times over the past few weeks, and again tonight while sitting upright.

Tomorrow morning I go for some pulmonary function tests which will likely add some more data which will help flesh out my condition further. Dr. M. and his bunch of groupies are probably not capable of understanding the significance this has in neurological disease or at best have a very basic understanding of it, but I’m pretty certain it will completely escape them as it applies to a condition as complex as mine. If they are reading this post I will leave them to vex over it all night.

On Friday I will go into the Lion’s Den (the dreaded Emory General Neurology Department) where I have an appointment with one of their neurologists I’ve never met. I was going to cancel it, as this woman has no reviews online (good or bad), and I don’t like going in blind after what happened, but on second thought figured even though it could be a trap given Macdonald’s connection with the department head, there are ways in which it could actually end up being helpful. (I won’t elaborate on that just now as I don’t want to show my hand to certain people who may not have the best of intentions). I will see what this woman is about and go from there. I just hope she’s not sneaky like Dr. H. and hope she’s not rude or a cold fish. My trust has been violated so I will not be so quick to believe her words and intentions as I might have been before the traumatic event happened. She will no doubt have to earn my trust. First hint of deceptiveness or working against me and she’s history.

Mayo Clinic is a no-go. After my initial inquiry at the particular location I checked on it turns out that they have nothing available until next January and so any patients with conditions of a neurological nature are not being booked at all right now.

My GP is finally coming to terms with my Dysautonomia after he received the erratic BP readings from my Piedmont records (which weren’t initially included, but housed in another department), and realizes that I am probably not going to feel any better until it is treated with IV saline infusion. Home healthcare is willing to send a nurse out to do the infusions but in order to prevent infection on an outpatient basis a port (central line) will  need to be put in my chest; a minor surgical procedure. Although this is not a cure it should help me feel better and get my autonomic nervous system to work more efficiently, as it did in the hospital.

Right now I have no energy, my pain has gotten more frequent and intense, I’ve felt faint more often lately, my constipation is still an ongoing problem despite being put on Linzess, it’s a struggle to hold myself up against gravity, and I feel as though I need to sleep 15 hours for every 1 hour of being up even to go to a doctor’s appointment. I just feel crappy all the way around. Increasing my salt intake and drinking ice water constantly has not been cutting it and each morning I wake up feeling so dehydrated I can hardly tolerate it. Ravenously thirsty, and as if my kidneys are toxic; head-achy and back and core achy.

As of yet the order has not been written, but he has agreed to it, so I think now it’s just a matter of when it will be written, as he knows I can’t go on like this forever. It is taking alot out of me just sitting up long enough to write this post. If it’s the wrecking crew he’s afraid of then screw them in the bootie, I say! The treatment options I pursue are my choice. Every patient should have the ultimate say as to what is and isn’t done with their own body.

There really needs to be a new Patients’ Bill of Rights drafted to address these types of issues. I’m sure there are many others who are going through similar struggles as I am. I’m going to be voting for Bernie Sanders in the upcoming Presidential election as I believe he most closely exemplifies the principles I stand for surrounding healthcare. I have written the Dept. of Health and Human Services periodically to bring some of these issues to their attention as they impact patient self-determination in ones healthcare.

To give input on healthcare topics important to you, write or call them toll free;

U.S. Department of Health & Human Services
200 Independence Avenue, S.W.
Washington, D.C. 20201
Toll Free Call Center: 1-877-696-6775

The current Secretary is Silvia Mathews Burwell

If your healthcare rights have been violated, in addition to filing internal grievances with the facility, state facility regulatory agencies, and if the offender was a doctor, the state Composite Medical Board (as I did), you can file a Federal grievance through the Office for Civil Rights . I may consider doing this if the hospital continues to leave the libelous charting up on their electronic records system posing as “professional opinion”.

There are several online forms broken down by type of complaint such as HIPPA, Patient Safety/Confidentiality, and Assurance of Compliance

Reference links used in this post;

Bernie Sanders’ position on healthcare:

http://www.ontheissues.org/2016/Bernie_Sanders_Health_Care.htm

Dept. of Health and Human Services – Patient Input:

http://search.hhs.gov/search?q=Patient+Input&HHS=Search&site=HHS&entqr=3&ud=1&sort=date%3AD%3AL%3Ad1&output=xml_no_dtd&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8&lr=lang_en&client=HHS&proxystylesheet=HHS

Office for Civil Rights:

http://www.hhs.gov/ocr/filing-with-ocr/index.html

Office for Civil Rights: File Civil Rights Complaint Online:
https://ocrportal.hhs.gov/ocr/smartscreen/main.jsf 

Educating The Doctors of the Future; Affliction As Strength

System Overload - Too Much Stimuli.jpg

I had an interesting discussion on Youtube with a medical resident, and as you know if you’ve been following my blog regularly I am very interested in opening the minds of new doctors just getting their feet wet in the field of neurology. This guy was educated in the typical way most neurology residents are taught and after viewing a woman’s video who was having facial spasms while she was watching TV he posted that he thought her disorder was “functional”.

The model used currently to differentiate “functional” from organic neurological disease/disorder is usually to check whether;

1) symptom patterns coincide with known patterns associated with “organic” neurological diseases/disorders.

2) a presenting symptom or group of symptoms stops during a period of distraction, thus appearing inconsistent.

(Keep in mind that distraction tricks are often used by patients with established Dystonia not considered “functional” such as touching the area involved or nearby which have the same effect of disrupting faulty brain signals and often do stop the symptoms temporarily).

I responded back that such a mindset does a real disservice to patients and often stands in the way of early detection and treatment of a neurological disorder.

He posited to me that there is a real category of Somatoform Disorders at the same time acknowledging neither Psychiatry nor Neurology wants to deal with those, but likens the stigma to that of diseases such as Major Depression or Bipolar Disorder. This was my response to that statement of his;

 “Your second sentence spells out what makes it different from Major Depression or Bi-polar disorder. Psychiatrists don’t brush off those two conditions and they don’t confuse those with “feigning”. A functional diagnosis is way more stigmatizing because unlike the two mood disorders you used as examples they don’t believe functional diagnoses have a biological basis. There are imaging studies and neurotransmitter studies pointing to an underlying neurochemical basis for mood disorders, and now genetic research linking certain genes to them. The same has not been researched in those categories labeled as “functional”.

 When you really think about it just about all the “mental” disorders are now thought to be brain diseases (AKA; neurologically based). That is exactly why psychiatrists prescribe medication for them.  There was a time when Schizophrenia was believed to be behavioral and caused by bad parenting. As long as doctors treated it accordingly patients didn’t recover. It was only when enough research money was put into it to investigate its biological basis that advances were made and patients improved through more targeted medications. Dr. E. Fuller Torrey was instrumental in uncovering alot of the biology behind that disease. He continues to research now through a private research center and is finding out that the disease is not only characterized by a disordered Dopamine receptor system, but that there are intracellular pathogens involved in its cause which are not detected by commercial testing methods. While I must state that I disagree with Torrey’s focus on involuntary commitment of such patients, he was one of the first to hypothesize and quantify with research that Schizophrenia is in fact a true brain disease, removing it from the realm of “it’s all in the patient’s mind.”

 I would bet that if enough research were put into studying what they call “functional disorders” scientists would find a biological/neurological basis for it. I’ve been reading lots of research papers and I think I have an idea what it really is. If you read some of the latest studies on Fibromyalgia and on Dystonia you’ll be very intrigued at what you’ll find. Apparently there are studies that have elucidated some very good data suggesting that these disorders involve faulty signals and neural pathways.

The same areas of the brain involved in emotions are activated in disorders such as Fibromyalgia, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and Dystonia as well as other disorders currently called “functional”. This doesn’t mean these are “mental illnesses” although people can experience mental symptoms (but not always). It merely means that the signals coming through those brain regions involving pain and/or movement are often impaired and become crossed with emotion-bearing pathways.

 If you are going into either the field of Neurology or Psychiatry I hope you will dedicate yourself to these “gray area” diseases/disorders and look for these quantifiable markers. You can do that with PET, fMRI, and a number of other state-of-the-art imaging methods, as well as on a more micro level look for genetic and neurochemical markers involved. If you look and put in the time you will find them eventually (and maybe make a name for yourself in the process if you should publish your findings in established medical journals).

 Taking on such an endeavor would go a long way toward doing justice to these patients with such orphan diseases/disorders and remove the stigma associated. I’m sure in time researchers will identify a physical basis, and targets will be found for which they can develop medications that really work (as long as doctors care enough and are unbiased enough to look and believe patients are worth it).

 I really believe “mental” as opposed to “physical” illness is an old paradigm and that the future of science will bear that out as more research comes out. Think of a computer as a model for instance; no software can function properly in a computer if the hardware is dysfunctional.

 Autism is a human model that illustrates this quite well. While you may or may not find any structural differences in the brain, it is known and pretty widely accepted that it is a difference in the way these people are “hard-wired”. It is listed in both the DSM and the ICD. Although it has “mental” or “behavioral” manifestations, it is not a “mental illness” per se, but a neurodevelopmental disorder. Autism is also associated with disordered brain signaling/processing of sensory input; same as the diseases/disorders I mentioned in my 4th paragraph. You will notice that many interventions recommended for autism are not covered by health insurance. This is a particular type of “othering” supported by insurance companies.

 The same goes for delineating “Dental” from “Medical” for purposes of health coverage. Take a look at what some dentists are doing for people with movement disorders (for the most part private pay and unfortunately out of reach of many most in need who could really benefit). Look up Dr. Stack/Dr. Jeffrey Brown, Demerjian, and several others doing some very cutting edge work in that subspecialty.

 In Dystonia, look up Juaquin Farias PhD. and his work in neuroplasticity. He is Director of the Neuroplastic Training Institute Toronto and adjunct professor at the University of Toronto at the Music and Health Research collaborative. He started out working only with focal dystonia in musical and performing artists, but now has had some success with Parkinson’s patients.

 All of these things should be under the same umbrella as “physical”. The insurance industry has alot more of a stake in keeping these divides than most people realize because they can justify not covering them or charging higher premiums for them as add-on coverage. The way these things are structured and coded is often for their benefit, not the benefit of patients.

Follow the thread and see where it leads. I think you will be surprised that much of what you’ve been taught in medical school doesn’t line up with the latest research.”

So far he has not responded, but maybe that gave him food for thought and the idea will grow on him once he thinks more deeply about it later. 

One very important point I forgot to make in my response to the neurology resident is that the woman watching TV was distracted and yet her facial movements continued anyway. This is definitely not consistent with a “functional” etiology, as watching TV is a very absorbing activity often causing a person to tune out all else going on in the environment. (I will add that point to the thread next chance I get).

Perhaps where doctors tend to misinterpret a patient’s symptoms as “functional”, especially in such disorders or diseases involving brain signaling/processing or in such cases in which a condition is caused by intracellular pathogens too small or evasive to be seen by most commercial imaging techniques is that one may have a disorder that involves faulty brain function yet it is not “functional” in the derogatory sense of the word, but is in fact truly neurological and can be quantified in ways other than structural.

In a study published in the medical journal Current Opinion in Neurology in August 2013, the hypothesis of authors,  Mark J. Edwards , Aikaterini Fotopoulou , and Isabel Pareés is that attentional processes in the brain are most likely disordered.

An experiment using “Functional” Distonia patients versus familial Dystonia patients yielded the following results;

1) Both groups had increased bloodflow in the right dorsolateral prefrontal cortex to an abnormal degree

2) In the “Functional” Dystonia group bloodflow in the primary motor cortex was decreased and blood flow in basal ganglia and cerebellum increased.

3) The reverse pattern was found in the genetic Dystonia patients.

The big picture suggests that both groups of Dystonia patients have abnormal prefrontal involvement, but that those patients labeled “functional” may have additional abnormalities in frontosubcortical circuitry which regulates motor attention and likely surrounding limbic areas .

The authors of the research paper also hypothesize that certain movement patterns may become ingrained by a precipitating trigger (often physical in nature) which the brain erroneously associates with certain abnormal movements. Although this processed information is converted into abnormal movement it is not “hysterical conversion disorder” nor is it purposely initiated by the patient.

The article illustrates beautifully that what is often mistaken for a psychological phenomenon is actually a disorder of brain processing, encoding, and wiring!

So patients; next time you are told by a doctor “this is all in your mind” point him/her to this research (listed in the last link I’ve provided at the bottom), or better yet, print it out and hand it to the doctor. You are not crazy, and don’t let anyone tell you that you don’t have anything physically wrong! It is time that clinical practice caught up to the most up-to-date research and throw out the old outdated concept of “Hysterical conversion /Somataform disorders”. It is no longer relevant, and only adds insult to injury preventing or delaying your getting the real and compassionate healthcare to best treat your neurological condition.

And to doctors; Remove that discounting “Psychogenic” label from your mindset (and from your vocabulary). It’s not helpful to you in rendering effective treatment and it does nothing positive for the doctor/patient relationship (which is a necessary bond to maintain if you want to be of any real service to those you treat). If you value your reputation you must extend the same courtesy to that of your patients’ reputation. Do not chart things that invariably cause other doctors (who may ultimately have a pivotal role in your patients’ best outcome) to question your patients’ credibility. These patients’ lives are hard enough without this added burden which not only causes emotional distress but can also be quite costly to the patient financially to correct. It’s important to remember that those people in any field who’ve made the biggest  strides were individuals who dared to challenge the status quo. Why be just an OK doctor, playing it safe following trails blazed for you by others when you can be a great doctor by blazing trails for those that come later! If you choose the latter your patients will thank you and you will have contributed something valuable to your specialty!

 

References used for this article;

Update on Fibromyalgia; Dr. Sean Mackey – Assistant Professor of anesthesia at the Stanford University Medical Center

Farias Technique in Neurplastic Movemenmt Therapy – Parkinson’s

Cornell Medical College – Miswiring During Human Development

Rewiring the Autistic Brain

Dr. G. Gary Demerjian –The TMJ Connection and Dental Appliances for Neurological Disorders

Dr. Brendan Stack/Dr. Jefferey Brown – Patient Case Studies-Neurological Disorders Treated With Dental Appliances

Dr. Nick Yiannios/Dr. Tom Coleman – Dental Treatment for Muscular TMD Patients

 Dr. E. Fuller Torrey and other Researchers – Biological Basis and Schizophrenia Gene Identified

Neurobiology of Functional (Psychogenic) Movement Disorders

 

That’s Their Story and They’re Sticking To It; Emory Continues to Stonewall

DSC_0001

The cover picture I chose for this post is a sign I keep on my wall as an affirmation, visible from my bed. In the light of all that’s gone on lately I am struggling to hang onto my self-esteem and have periods of self-doubt in which I begin to wonder. You might have noticed that the letters aren’t straight; that they veer up from left to right. (More about the significance of that later).

First, I received a letter from Emory’s Chief Compliance Officer, A.A., stating they refuse to ban the offending doctors from access to my electronic records (she says “for purposes of billing”). I had to laugh at that one, as it seemed the epitome of irony that they should even think about having these morally sick and impaired “professionals” paid by insurance nor by any source for that matter after how badly they mistreated me. Emory is out of its collective mind if they think these people should be in any way rewarded for abuse and neglect! If the hospital wants to stand by these criminals then they can just eat the cost as far as I’m concerned, and I’m actually considering sending each of the 4 doctors a bill of my own for wasting 9 or 10 hours of my time, for the mistreatment (physical and psychological) and failure to render aid, and for the libel that still sits in my chart because of their malice and irresponsibility for which I will have to incur additional costs to seek specialists out of state.

Some patients have started billing doctors who are late just like they do with late patients, so that gave me an idea that I should do the same for how these people compromised my care and are now causing a delay in it because of their actions (not to mention the intentional infliction of emotional distress inflicted by Dr. P. R. M. when he administered his interrogative neuro exam). The guy is clearly a narcissist and scouted me as someone he thought would make an easy victim because he knew I’d been abused as a child through Piedmont’s social history record. Like any predator he saw an opportunity and he took it. He gave a phony (non)apology to the “advocate” to pass on to me, saying “I sincerely apologize that you weren’t satisfied.” Now that’s just gross!!!! Ewww… Why would I be??? He was beating me! Sorry bud, but take that somewhere else. I’m not into that!

What I hadn’t anticipated was just how much of this approach was being adhered to as a “team” by all 4 doctors and just how duplicitous Dr. H was in the organization of my “treatment plan” while in the ER that day and evening. I was not thinking “conspiracy” when I was there, believing that each person was acting separately on their own as individuals, but now after receiving the letters from the “patient advocate” and Dr. H’s manager I now know that’s actually what it was; a conspiracy to discredit me (probably because I was expressing that Emory had moved too slow thus far in getting me to the clinic that could help me, and now I was severely disabled, and I guess they didn’t like dissent). If I’d been the mental case they were trying to paint me as I would have been “paranoid” (in their eyes) and would have picked up on the fact that their approach to me was organized, but to the contrary, I was entirely too trusting. I believed everything Dr. H told me and totally fell for her trick; her phony kindness. I believed she’d prevent anyone from hurting me and the whole time unbeknownst to me she was setting the stage for me to be hurt. Trusting too much (and the wrong people) indicates something else (for which I am arranging an assessment as soon as a particular expert gets on the panel to accept my insurance in about 3 months).

To this day I have a hard time aligning my emotions with my logic when it comes to Dr. H, and that’s scary. The others I can work up a good firm anger at, but her; I just feel profoundly hurt by. What she did was so sneaky that it confused me. Part of me still wants to work it out with her but my logic tells me she’s not a safe person. She hasn’t emailed me again and I guess that’s just as well, although I wish I would have gotten an explanation from her directly (even if she was going to lie) instead of her hiding behind other people like a coward to do her talking for her. She owes me that at the very least.

I realize now that this vulnerability has caused me problems with others I’ve known in the past who were two-faced and in the end totally took advantage of me and tore my heart out. I need to close this gap as soon as possible, but how does one do that and still let the good people in whose kindness is sincere? How does one not become jaded and start questioning everyone’s motives? I naturally tend to take people at face value and I kind of like that about myself, but it has bitten me in the butt a number of times. I sure hope this is something I can do something about and that I’m not forever broken in my ability to tell the difference. Now that all false friends have left and I have a clean slate this is a big thing. I don’t think I can survive another hurt like this. I need to get it right the next time I do trust someone.

Getting back to the topic I brought up earlier about the sign I have on my wall; I am thinking that what I have may be generalized dystonia of some sort and possibly part of a larger syndrome. Last night I watched an interesting speech on Youtube by Dr. Steven Rich, a movement disorder specialist about Atypical Parkinsonian Disorders  and found out that in several of those, people have Dysautonomia. He says that in early stages of Multi-system Atrophy for instance, people can have falling within the first 6 months of symptom onset, difficulty getting up from a sitting position, a stiff gate, and symptoms such as rigidity or spasticity, other upper motor neuron signs, and Dysautonomia. Apparently some people are misdiagnosed as having Parkinson’s disease or not diagnosed at all because brain scans can look normal. They don’t always show findings. Often these conditions are made by clinical diagnosis and somebody who knows what they’re doing can put 2 and 2 together from the group of symptoms a patient has.

I’ve been learning also that Dystonia can be primary or secondary just as Dysautonomia can. I’m finding out that my MRI findings may be alot more significant than doctors who read them knew; that C1 and C2 vertebra misalignment and TMJ problems are often indicative of Dystonia and that I may have had that since I was a child in my neck and then as I got older it progressed to the other areas of my body. I’ve noticed for awhile now that my head is often cocked to one side and the sign on my wall slanting upward corresponds with the way my head is positioned. It’s very difficult for me to write straight. I’m always needing to straighten my shirt collar so it is centered on my shoulders because it tends to slide over to one side because my shoulders are tipped one slightly lower than the other. Also tonight I notice that my whole face is off-kilter; jaw, mouth is crooked, nose, and the way my head attaches to my neck is off.

Face off kilter DSC_0011

My eyes which I had surgery on a number of years ago because they wander outward are now slipping really badly. I definitely don’t look quite right.

another headshot but eyes drifting DSC_0012

This past year my Dysautonomia has been worse than ever before and I’ve had alot more near fainting spells than I’ve ever had, the colon spasticity didn’t start until 2015 but I’ve been chronically constipated for years, and then finally at Piedmont hospital they documented the blood pressure instability. I faxed those records to my GP that I had to obtain from another department, and they were quite erratic.

Something else odd I’ve noticed happening in the past few weeks is that there are times when my feet get purple or blue for no apparent reason. They don’t feel different, just change color, and it often happens when I’m sitting down on the shower bench. Here are some pictures of what it looks like but they were worse than that before I dried off and was able to get my camera. Also the flash makes it not show up as dark as it actually is, but you can see it somewhat.

Close up of purplish right foot and ankle DSC_0008

Color Zoning on Feet and Right Ankle DSC_0014

DSC_0006

In this picture you can see the left foot still pretty purple all over, even down the big toe before it started going back to a more normal color, but the top of the right one had already changed.

Over the past week I’ve had several episodes of urinary urgency which don’t seem related to a bladder infection but most likely are from Dysautonomia. One of them today came on when I was in the kitchen so fast I almost had an accident, but was barely able to get it to stop by squeezing it back upward with all my might and then strangely I didn’t need to go.

My heart was doing some weird things the other night too, as if it was beating very weakly but I was flooded with adrenaline at the same time.

I now have an appointment with a movement disorder specialist out of state but the doctors in the specialty clinic are highly sought after and so I’m going to have to wait 6 months to get in. They are going to put me on the list in case there’s an earlier cancellation just in case. This guy has written a ton of research papers and is currently funded by NIH to do a study on Kinesiology for atypical movement disorders, so he sounds pretty open-minded.

Home healthcare is about to end its certification period in just a few days (the 29th) and my doctor needs to recertify it soon. I have not heard yet that he’s done it. He needs to have a plan in order for it to be covered and I don’t think he knows exactly how to do that but is supposed to be talking with the Care coordinator about it and how it needs to be written.

I need to get some longer-term services in place like the Independent Care Waiver and an agency that does these kinds of things and more like cooking and grocery shopping, but for the Independent Care Waiver I need to have an evaluation for a better wheelchair so I know what specs to put on the application. Shepherd Center does these evaluations with pressure mapping so that you get things just right for your body. The Hoveround I’m using now is OK for inside the house but I really need one that will recline and has a head and neckrest for when I need to go to the doctor and have to be out a few hours.

So far only one person has contributed to GoFundMe. If you would chip in whatever you can afford I would much appreciate it, and also send your friends and family over to my page. My income is so low I’m not even making ends meet and there are more expenses coming up. In addition to this one trip I’m making in 6 months I most likely will be going to the Mayo Clinic which involves about a 2 week stay and from what I understand you have to stay in a hotel and I don’t think that nor meals are covered.

I’m hoping for some good news about something soon! There are so many barriers to things right now sometimes I start to lose hope for the future.

 

 

The Dark Man

Shadow silhouette of a figure

Upon returning home on the evening of November 28th I was greeted by the strong stench of dog feces and urine coming from the kitchen. I had been under the impression that my son’s girlfriend’s father had been keeping Carmella, my dog, in Athens at a local dog spa and that she was being well cared for. I found her with a small dish of cheap dogfood  and what seemed to be a week’s worth of mess underneath the kitchen table. Near the garage door and laundry room was some bloody diarrhea that was nearly liquid.

Cleaning all this up while sitting in my wheelchair proved nearly impossible but I couldn’t just leave it there, so I did my best to stand and in doing so fell, almost landing in a puddle of urine. The smell was overpowering even after my best effort at cleaning, as the linoleum is porous unlike the type they used to make and absorbs like a sponge.

I was relieved to be home in my own bed, but the silence was deafening after the steady hum of conversation in the hallway at the hospital.

Sleeping was fitful and unrestorative between the residual odor emanating from the kitchen and my autonomic instability. 

Wires got crossed and home health didn’t show up until sometime later the following week, as apparently they had not been notified by the hospital that I’d been discharged.

By Thursday, December 3rd I was in a bad way. The night had been one of the worst since I’d been discharged from Piedmont and I called the home health agency as soon as they were open to ask that they send a nurse out, as I was feeling really faint along with nausea and the feeling that I was going to lose all bowel control at any moment. The Care Coordinator, Daria wasn’t in and somebody else was working that day in her place, and I was told they couldn’t get a nurse to my house on such short notice. The best this woman could advise me to do was to go to the Emergency room. I really didn’t want to but  didn’t know what else to do. The feeling was becoming intolerable and the woman on the other end of the phone was telling me I really should never have been discharged.

Reluctantly I dialed 911. Not long after, a black man and woman arrived. I was too ill even to get into my wheelchair so yelled for them to come in my back door. They finally heard me and entered the house that way.

I told them to take me to Emory since that was where my doctors worked, and I figured maybe I would give the place another chance even though their clinics had taken way too long to get me routed to the right care. I recounted how things had been moving at a snail’s pace, how surreal things had become on the Patient Portal with several doctors watching intently but none making a move to intervene, and how my GP had seemed at a loss, resorting to prayer now and saying very little.

The female paramedic seemed perplexed. “After that you want to go to Emory?”

“Yes, and don’t divert no matter what. Please hurry. I’m not feeling well at all” I responded.

 I’d tried going to another hospital and they’d spat me back to Emory anyway, so I thought maybe it was best that I have them follow through. At least my doctors were there and the ER could let them know where I was. Maybe, I thought, this nightmare was finally coming to an end. Little did I know, things were about to get alot worse.

The male paramedic began proselytizing about Jesus Christ and asking if and how I were “saved”, very inappropriate, but nevertheless I told him that given nothing else was working I’d tried that too and that wasn’t anymore effective than anything else. He went on about how you had to ask forgiveness and pray this way or that way in order to “be healed”. I thought this really must be hell I was in as the female was driving as though it were a Sunday and stopping at each light. It seemed as though I’d stumbled onto an alternate reality, or down some strange rabbit hole. I could hardly believe this was happening. I felt as though I were going to hurl and crap my pants all at the same time as the two paramedics immersed in their own world talked about eating pizza.

After what felt like ages we arrived at Emory’s ER. They took their time getting the gurney out of the back of the truck and wheeled me into the entrance.

After signing some paperwork and having blood drawn through what felt like a dull shovel crammed into my arm (an IV) by a middle-aged black woman with shoulder-length hair began making conversation with me. Other than the painful IV she was pleasant and made some small-talk noticing I had a birthday coming up and asked what I wished for,

“A new body” I half-way joked.

“Be careful what you wish for”, she replied cryptically. 

I quietly wondered why everything had to be assumed for the worst rather than for better.

Soon after she left, Dr. L.H. entered the room followed by a group of others. She was young with dark brown hair parted in the middle and an engaging personality. As the others milled around she positioned herself by the foot of my bed on the left side and asked what had been happening that brought me to the hospital. I struggled at first to get out the words but then they just sort of poured out of me, all the symptoms that had developed, how they accelerated recently, and how Emory seemed to be asleep at the wheel as I got more and more disabled until I could hardly care for myself anymore. 

“I’m so sorry” she replied. “We’re going to take care of you. I promise. We’re going to make this right. If there’s anything you need, food, water, or anything, just ask.” Her expression looked sincere, so I believed her.

I asked to speak with the social worker but she wouldn’t be in until around 10:00 AM. The woman filling in at the home healthcare agency had told me to have their social worker call them so she could advocate for me. Someone had put my handbag out of reach, I don’t remember when, but I couldn’t get to my laptop or a phone to call anyone, and I was so tired and agonized by the lower GI symptoms I was experiencing it was hard to process all that was going on. I needed to believe things were going to work out finally. They had to. I didn’t know how much longer I could take it.

It was nearly 2:00 PM before I was able to get the social worker and I asked for some food and medication for spasticity. She went to ask on my behalf and after she left it was quite awhile before a young, slim black nurse walked in with a pill in a small cup. I asked if it was Tizanidine and she told me no, (giving me a generic name I did not recognize), then when asked told me that it was some sort of Benzodiazipine. I gave her a  strange look and said I didn’t think that was an appropriate drug for my symptoms. She finally admitted it was Valium and I said, “No that that wasn’t going to address spasticity in my colon nor the spasticity I was having in the left instep of my foot. 

She told me that I couldn’t get an antispasmodic because those were “neurological medications” and had to be authorized by a neurologist. I wasn’t buying it. Never had I had such an experience in any ER in my life and I had an inkling something strange was going on although I didn’t yet know quite what. I asked to speak with the patient representative and she instead got the social worker again, who while she was understanding and admitted that I wasn’t being treated correctly, seemed to feel that her hands were tied, and eventually trailed off in frustration.

The young nurse returned with the Valium and insisted it would address the spasticity as it had muscle relaxant properties. Too tired to put up much of a fight I took it as it was all that was available at the moment. It didn’t help and I was so miserable with the constant fecal urgency that I felt like crying but my eyes were dry and I couldn’t shed a tear. An almost primal wail came out of me for hours until I fell asleep in utter exhaustion. No food came even after I called the nurse several times. She came in and asked whether the Valium helped and I told her no, that all it had done was put me to sleep but the spasticity remained. I asked again for an antispasmodic. Again she refused. Putting her hand defiantly on one hip she waggled her head and shoulder to try to defend her position, stating that although it might have put me to sleep it was not for sleep and that it does address spasticity. I told her that if that were so that only would it do so indirectly and that there are better medications for that; Tizanidine or Baclofen.

She left the room in a huff rolling her eyes and didn’t return for some time. No food was forthcoming but after ringing the buzzer about 3 times over a period of an hour or so more I finally got some water from another nurse or aid.

Sometime in the late afternoon a female resident, E.G., came to my bedside. She had a very pale face with dark circles and deep set eyes, almost  cadaver-like in appearance. At first she seemed cheerful as she told me she was doing her neurology rotation and somehow we got on the subject of my son (I can’t remember how), but I told her he had a D-Net tumor. She didn’t know what that was so I explained it was a benign clump of excess neural tissue that caused daily seizures, and said she would eventually learn that if she was planning on going into neurology. Then she took out her tools and decided she was going to do a neuro exam on me. This was where things started getting a little weird. At the time I really  didn’t know what to make of it but she started testing my reflexes in the right arm saying “You know the drill, you know the drill”, in an almost cursory yet condescending way. I remember thinking I wish they’d leave me alone already and practice on somebody else so I could go to sleep.

Then almost immediately after she was through doing that, in came a male attending ER doctor, T.T.J., MD (internal medicine) a stocky man with wavy brown hair tied back in a small poneytail who did his own neuro exam. He was glib and dismissive and seemed quite pleased with himself and couldn’t seem to understand why my not being able to bathe myself and care for myself would be bothersome to me, writing off my concern as “anxiety”, and attributing my chronic long-term constipation to the Tramadol although I’ve had it alot longer than I’ve been on the medication. I told him directly that I wouldn’t be minimizing this if I were him.

After he’d left the room I spoke with the social worker again, telling her I didn’t feel that this guy was being respectful and asked her to speak with my home healthcare agency. Again I asked for something to eat. She said she’d pass it on. I told her that with all that was going on and all I’d been through I didn’t know who to trust anymore. She told me I could trust Dr. H.

Finally Dr. H. came back in and told me I was going to be admitted at least overnight to their bridge unit, and that a female neurologist was going to be assigned to me. As she leaned her elbows on the bars of the gurney she said “We do care about you.” I could believe that she did but the royal “We?”, not so much. I was a long way from feeling reassured. Fighting through the pain and fatigue I was trying to make sense of it all.

After she left the room I waited for the female neurologist she spoke of to arrive but she never did. To this day I do not know why.

When Dr. H. came back she told me there’d been a change of plans and that there was going to be a different neurologist seeing me instead, a male whom she described as “an old traditionalist”. Just then a precarious feeling came over me. That didn’t sound like a good thing. I asked her if he had a problem with a strong woman and she told me no, that she was a strong woman.

Soon a transporter came with a wheelchair to take me to the unit. Once I was assigned to a room a nurse came in and took my vital signs. My blood pressure was somewhat high. I asked her to help me plug in my laptop so that I could notify some people as to what was happening. Once she left I found I was unable to connect to the network.

Around 6 or 7 PM, the neurologist Dr. P.R.M entered my room at Emory Hospital wearing a surgical mask (which I thought was bizarre anyway), accompanied by the same female resident who had seen me earlier.

Instantly I had a visceral feeling of dread. He looked tightly wound, with a mostly bald but oddly muscular head. Clenching his jaw seemed to isolate one muscle in his head at a time tensing and releasing in a strange pattern. He reminded me of a snorting angry bull on a hair trigger pawing at the dirt. He neither smiled nor attempted any niceties in his introduction.

Almost immediately he asked me rhetorically if I would turn off my laptop, and then actually reached over and closed it himself before turning off the overhead light and looking closely into my eyes with his pen light.

Dr. H. came into the room to the right of my bed. Dr. M. asked me some pointed questions about what I understood about why I was there, and asked me my symptoms. I replied that I had been in the process of work-up for a neuromuscular disease, possibly ALS or some sort of movement disorder and told him I had progressive weakness, fasciculations, myoclonus, spasticity, extreme fatigue, and had fallen a number of times back in August, and had been declining more quickly over the past month or so. That day and for the past few weeks I’d been having dysautonomic symptoms; i.e., nausea, faintness, hot and cold temperature dysregulation, gastric upset and constant spasm in my lower GI tract that felt like I had to poop urgently all day long. I explained that I had also had sharp muscle spasms in the instep of my left foot earlier in the day.

 When I used the proper names for my symptoms he made a rather pointed comment; “You know a lot of medical terms.” His tone sounded almost accusatory as though that threatened him in some way. I told him that there’s a whole new generation of patients out there who are highly educated and proactive, and that I was raised around science, as my father was a cell biologist, and since I tire easily I’d rather use 1 word to describe 4 or 5 as long as he and I both understand what it means. I explained that I do what I can to conserve my energy.

 Then he physically abused me under the guise of a neuro exam (started off pretty rough but on the border) testing my reflexes on some areas of the legs and then on my right arm, but when he got to the left arm he lifted his triangular rubber hammer above his head and taking full swings beat me with all his might several times quickly. When I cringed and yelled “Ouch!” he did not apologize. I have had neuro exams many times before and never in my life had I been hit this hard by any doctor; neurologist or otherwise. There was no clinical reason for that amount of force. It was obvious that he intended to intimidate me and inflict pain in such a way that it would not leave a bruise, in the pretense of doing his job.

 He had access to sensitive medical history information in my chart from a recent hospitalization at Piedmont hospital where I had been having tests and being worked up for ALS, admitted he’d read the whole thing, then lied to me that my EMG was completely clean when in fact it wasn’t, there were some findings not yet elucidated, and then proceeded to use other personal history information against me from the other hospital’s record about abuse I suffered as a child in a malicious way. He said “You had a mental health consult there, didn’t you. What did she tell you?” he again poked in a distinctly interrogative tone.

(I had merely spoken with a counselor about grief I was having about the loss of my function in the past few months). His motive was clearly to discredit the neuromuscular symptoms I’ve been having which have progressed to the level that I need help at home with daily living.  I was in shock and disbelief that a total stranger would come into my hospital room so hell-bent to attack me this way, especially a doctor who was supposed to be there to help me, and I couldn’t understand why all the vehemence. I told him briefly that the counselor had told me that she didn’t feel I had a psychiatric problem and agreed with me that it was entirely situational, and said that it was understandable that I was overwhelmed considering what was happening to my body. (I understand they cannot bill for grief so have to put something diagnostic down). Dr. M. used this in a malicious way to try to discredit my whole disease process that was currently being worked up, and these were just gross tests, just the beginning of the diagnostic process.

 His “professional opinion” (even after I had Babinski sign in both feet taken lying down and also with legs hanging over the side of the bed) was that I had “hysterical conversion disorder” and he told me that he had been “called in” (I don’t know by whom) for his “opinion” and therefore had to chart something about it.

 I told him I don’t know how he could jump to such a conclusion and that he better think long and hard about that because this could bias other doctors and result in me not getting the real treatment that could help my disease whatever it is. I said just because that was his opinion didn’t make it true and that a specialist might find the cause of my symptoms and I did not want him to poison the well with this biased opinion.

 I told him that there were well documented problems that indicated something neurologically wrong in the CNS such as Biot’s breathing, (similar to Cheynes-Stokes), and that my sleep studies were very abnormal (slow waves while awake, sleep myoclonus, etc.), and that many times I am awakened by fasciculations in my toes, and how on earth could my mind conjure up that when I was not even awake at the onset. He paused for a moment unable to counter that argument.

 It was quite clear by then he had his own agenda and did not have my best interest at heart, and what he did violates the Hippocratic Oath on a number of levels. He got defensive when I stood up for myself and told me, “Ms. Carlington, if you don’t want to discuss it there is no point continuing the conversation”. I reminded him once more that I did not want even a hint of this in my records. I told him that if he wanted to put in that he didn’t find anything that was one thing, but to enter such conjecture as he was proposing would be irresponsible. Pretty much everyone in the medical field knows what a stigma such a diagnosis holds and how damaging it can be to one’s credibility. When he shook my hand toward the end of the conversation it was a “dead fish” handshake and there was not an ounce of empathy in his demeanor.  I told him “I don’t mean to offend you” but no thanks. This was not helpful.

 He said there were no other tests he could think of to do and said that the neuromuscular specialist, Dr. G. didn’t come to the hospital, so I might as well be discharged, and said he’d refer me to him if I wanted. I said why not call in other specialists in the meantime and he asked me what specialists could be called in. I was exhausted and had been in the ER since morning with nothing to eat all day and no medication but a Valium to treat my spasticity so needless to say it didn’t occur to me to ask about a gastroenterology consult, but that shouldn’t have been incumbent upon me to initiate.

 Just a few minutes later, he sent his female resident, E.G. into my room, upon which she plopped her butt down squarely on my left foot covered by my blankets which was the one with the most weakness and dysfunction in it. The toes were pointing up, so that could have broken some bones if the muscles hadn’t been as weak as they are at the point between the foot and ankle and it flattened down. Again I yelled “Ouch!” as I do have sensation in it, so of course it hurt. She apologized as though it were an accident. There was a chair on the other side of my bed she could have sat in instead. It was not necessary to sit at the foot of my bed. This is a little known trick to see if you’re “faking it” but is considered highly unethical. This is NOT what residents are supposed to be taught as acceptable practice and places patients at risk of injury.

She made a few statements that I didn’t process because of the state of shock I was in. All I could think to do was to ask her to get Dr. H., but once she’d left the room and Dr. H. came back in I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what the resident had done because even though I felt as though we might even have been friends if we’d met under different circumstances the events of the day had happened on her watch and she hadn’t intervened, so as much as I wanted to I didn’t even know whether I could trust her 100%.

She sat in the chair opposite me, and looking back at her my eyes welled up with tears that wouldn’t fall. I was so tired, so existentially tired. I told her this made me sad, that this experience had seriously damaged my trust in Emory and in doctors, that I thought she was going to make it right, not make it worse. I told her that he was wrong and that I had nothing at all to gain, but everything to lose, that I had lost the one thing I valued most in myself all my life; my physical strength.

She told me that she believed me and saw me as an honest person of integrity, and that I should continue to pursue the source of these symptoms.

I told her that it was so unfair for him to imply that a patient was either faking or nuts just because he didn’t know the answer and I recounted the true story of a woman with chronic Lyme disease whose family wouldn’t believe her and was too poor to get treatment from the right specialists, that she’d begged for someone to help her get the treatment she needed. It never came, and the day after posting a video about her plight she walked in front of a train and committed suicide, and that I’d spoken with one of my doctors about what I wanted to be done if my suffering were to become unbearable with no relief in sight.

She responded that if I ever got to that point to come back to the ER.

“But then I’d have a record”. And anyway, why would I do that if I’d reached such a point that I wanted out? Just to be forced to endure that suffering longer? No, I thought. If I ever get to that point I will make the final decision with dignity. What I’d just endured was not dignity but humiliation and degradation. The whole point of Euthanasia is to end the suffering, not to prolong it.

Yes, that’s true,” she answered, knowing that my having a “mental health” record was what he wanted and I would never give him the satisfaction.

 I have an advocacy background (also documented in those records he used against me), so I’m able to recognize the signs of abuse and/or neglect when I encounter them, and what happened that day was highly unethical and out-and-out abusive.

When dinner finally came that night I couldn’t eat.

I had to call out to get the nurse because M had moved the call button to the countertop where I couldn’t reach it. The nurse came in and found it, shaking her head asking how it got over there.

“It was that damned neurologist”, I answered.

As I was given my discharge papers she started to hand me another Valium. I waved it away telling her I tried it earlier in the day and it didn’t help. Then she was going to hand me a prescription and I told her to keep it, as it was pointless. I would just take my Tizanidine when I got home later. I’m not sure why she was so intent on giving it to me; because she believed his take on things, or whether she thought after dealing with him and his abuse I was going to need a tranquilizer. Either way, I felt I was on plenty of medication already and didn’t need one more. Besides, there was no need to add to the stigma he was trying to make stick.

 This sadistic man is not only a danger to me physically and to my relationships with other doctors on whom my life may depend, but also a danger to other patients as well.

 When I obtained the ER record of his documentation almost a week later it was even worse than he had implied. This went way beyond rudeness or mere difference of opinion, but rose (or should I say sank) to the level of harassment and sabotage. He went way beyond the scope of his specialty and peppered it with psychiatric terms he had no business using that were the most stigmatizing mental health diagnoses he could think of, knowing that Emory doesn’t remove inaccurate, even libelous information but only puts a notation by it stating it’s incorrect. I will be utilizing their form for this, but, as his defamatory narrative will still be visible, and could bias other doctors, in perpetuity, this cannot be allowed to stand.

 In addition, he went so far as to question in the report the diagnostic process used by my other doctors who had diagnosed Sleep Myoclonus and Sarcoidosis and he implied it was all fake.

 He did nothing that would be beneficial to me as a patient, and his involvement was clearly designed to blacklist me from every doctor but those he had connections with in an attempt to manipulate me into confirming his “assessment”. He had gone too far by beating me under the guise of his “neuro exam” even though he’d admitted that he’d already formed his opinion prior to that based on the records from Piedmont hospital, and realized that I was not the easy victim he thought, so he tried to cover his behind by doing all that libelous charting as he exited.

 I have filed the various complaints that I’ve been advised to file given the types of improprieties that happened, one of them a police report with Dekalb County, GA.

 As long as he has full privileges at Emory he can tamper with my treatment, he knows where I live, and could possibly also endanger my son and his treatment whom is waiting for surgery for a D-Net tumor. That electronic records system states every appointment within the system I have scheduled, its time, and location, so I am in danger of further harassment and tampering with my treatment by him. He has shown his intentions to try to do that in that ER report.

 This rogue neurologist should have his license permanently revoked as he has clearly shown malicious intent toward a patient, (at least towards me, and maybe others), he abused his position and power differential in order to physically assault me in the process of his “work”, and followed that up by essentially attempting to blacklist me with other doctors now and in the future, something that may have life-long ramifications and fundamentally hurt or destroy healthy and beneficial doctor/patient relationships. If he would do this to me then it is reasonable to suspect he would place other patients at great risk in this way.

Who exactly is this dark man, and who sent him?

To what extent did he influence (and possibly orchestrate) the way I was treated in the ER earlier in the day?

As of yet these questions remain unanswered.