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Does it count as drama survival if I almost lose any eye?

Oh no Jerk ;____; how did that happen

The whole retarded story is on my FB plus gross picture. But since I'm not inclined to put you through that, I fell out of bed, punching in a dream, and sliced a long area of my face from the corner of my eye downward on the end table corner apparently. About a centimeter either way I would've broken my nose or lost an eye. I'd put it at the second funniest injury I've received just after falling down Jessie's staircase last year. The bonus to that is that her sleepwear is hot as Hell.

Aw, Jerk... that sucks

Ugh, injuries like that always give me the heebie-jeebies.

A close one there, Jerk. You just keep defying the wounds of Fortune, don't you? Though I'd be interested in knowing who/what you were punching in your dream.

It didn't miss entirely. I still have something kind of like a bruise on my eye and my peripheral vision is kind of balls. All things considered, I'm doing pretty great.

wait, when did you fall down a staircase?

So guys there was this one time when I was but a wee lad of eighteen

And some chick called Basketcase got butthurt that she was caught cussing out people in private

I barely escaped the whinybitchfest with my life and awesome intact

Taeshi, on 22 March 2012 - 02:22 AM, said:

Oh, it's always nice to know when people have feelings for you--makes ya feel desirable. But, then, if he really isn't as much of just a, uh, "player" as I thought him to be, then he was just foolish, nothing more.

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I'm a jealous person, too; and back with the Megan thing when I was jealous of her and her boyfriend (before I got over it) all my friends were like "you know, if you really cared about her you would stop moping and get over yourself." That's what I did, but they made it seem like I was horrible for feeling jealous. And yes, the digital world is almost a shield; it's perfect for hiding a bad mood~ I know that sounds terrible, but I just don't want people to deal with me being all sullen. :<

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Oh, I never try to stop her with anything she does! Because another part of me still thinks "oh, I'm glad this is making her happy," and generally I know it's her life to run and I don't really have a say in how she operates. I don't want to be "in control," anyhow. But yeah, I'm still like "I wonder how nice it would be if this person she's talking to just disappeared from this net..." And that sounds really morbid but it's not--I don't mean "horrible" accident or anything like that. xD;;

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So really, it was possible that he didn't care about all of them and had a childish "gotta catch 'em all" mentality? It's also a shame that so many fell for him. ;;

Dr. Klaus, on 24 March 2012 - 02:34 PM, said:

When I was in The Netherlands last year in May. Got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom on the second floor from the third and they had a weird spiral staircase where the footing was really small. I missed a step and went down. It was 3AM and I'm blind enough as it is without my contacts, but when you gotta go you gotta go.

I almost died rock climbing, nearly decked.
Standard stuff really, outdoor is scary, bolts way too far apart
That's what I get for trying a 5.11 I couldn't handle I guess

I'll stick to big rocks for now.

Apart from almost dying a few times though, not much drama. Best friends lives across the pond in ameriland, which I don't like, but hey

Do you mean that you got really wounded and you recovered or that you had a really close call falling and you know if that went further you woulda died? Either way that sounds super scary!!

This has also happened to me. I was working a boulder problem next to a cliff (like an idiot) and I swung around the side, almost flying off the edge. Luckily I was holding onto a decent jug, so I just slammed into the rock, and then I got feet so I was okay.

But, then again, two months later I fell about twenty feet off a rock when my foot slipped out of a water crack and my arms were to pumped out to hold me. My right heel barely missed the crash pad, and I broke my fucking ankle. I had to hike out of the woods, which was speckled with boulders, briars, and shrubs, there were hills to. Then a lovely walk about a half mile down the rode to my mother fucking car, then the drive home using the ankle that I had just broke, and the pants shitting terror I experienced when I thought I was going to get in a wreck because my ankle wouldn't move enough to press the brakes.

Good times.

@Onitsuka

So you sport climb I see? Have you tried the route with a top rope instead?

AAAAAAAA WHY DO YOU GUYS CLIMB IT SOUNDS SO SCARY ;___;

What can I say, adrenaline is like crack. And when you have dopamine pumping through your system because of the workout. I don't know. Topping out my first boulder problem changed my life. Okay, it wasn't that extreme. But it's akin to a roller coaster rush. And it's like a puzzle, and the key is to get your body in just the right position and tense at just the right moment or what have you. I don't know how to explain it, outdoor climbing just makes me happy.

Straight up rock climbing is a little different, and usually safer. There are various levels of safety, and what Onitsuka was doing is called sport climbing.
Which means you have you keep clipping the rope into 'quick draws' that hang from bolts in the rock. It can be dangerous, because when you fall you actually drop quite a bit, the person holding you has to feed slack so you can keep climbing further. On some especially risky climbs you can run the risk of hitting the ground if the bolts are too far apart. It looks like this.



But, what most people do and beginners do is called top roping. For this there are anchors set up at the top of whatever face you're climbing, and you run the rope through some webbing and carabiners (depending on how much equipment you have and how safe you want to be). Essentially what this does is make it where there can be slight tension on the climber at all times, so if you fall it will only be as far as the rope can give. If you set it up wrong there's the risk of swinging, but in general top roping is the safest way to climb. It looks like this.



Then there's bouldering, which is how I broke my ankle. It's essentially free climbing on boulders, but there are specially designed pads that you put below you. I broke my ankle because me and my friend are poor and could only afford one between us.

But uh, there are other types of climbing that are a lot more dangerous. Trad climbing, which involves shoving or placing special equipment into rock formations as you climb.



Or you know, there's the fuckers that just straight up climb shit without anything.



So yeah, climbing is as dangerous as you want it to be.

Sure why not. I'll post my story here. Maybe it'll put my poor frazzled mind to rest if I actually let people know, ya know?

Anyway.

So it's kind of a long story, but about five or so years back, just out of the blue, I started to suffer severe stomach pains. They felt like something evil wanted to get out and was clawing relentlessly at my insides with claws made of molten steel. Now, I don't like to bother people with my problems. I prefer to keep them all inside, so that other's will not know. A bad mindset, I realize this now, and I'm working to overcome it and let people in on things. At the time, though, it seemed like the only thing to do.

My energy waned and my mood swung as time progressed, though I still covered my pain with a smile. One night, maybe a month or so after the pain started, I woke up extra early. I heard my mother's alarm clock going off and I thought "I have to wake her, or she'll be late for work." I stumbled out of bed, half delirious, and tried to get to her before I somehow found myself on the floor. My legs were too weak to hold me and I had lost my balance. But at least I succeeded in waking everyone up.

What followed was me ending up in the ICU in the hospital hooked up to a million machines and close to death.

Turns out I had Crohn's disease and I was severely dehydrated and if I hadn't have gone to the hospital I would have died right then and there.

But that's not the end of it, no. When I was well enough to get out of the hospital I was put on drugs. Lots of drugs. More drugs than you can shake a fish at. This went on for about a year. One specialist would prescribe these drugs and then another would presrcibe more without knowing what the previous one gave me. I was on antibiotics and pain killers and steroids all at once and they all wreaked more havoc on my system than they did help.

The end result, as time went on, was drastic weight loss. I ended up weighing a paltry 92 pounds. I remember being so skinny that I couldn't sleep properly because I could feel my ribs poking into the matress. It was an awful time. My father finally got fed up with the retarded circus the doctors had me in and made me stop taking all the drugs. And what do you know? I actually started getting better.

Apparently the one specialist did not like this and cut off all contact with me after telling me something like "This is unetheical. I can't treat you anymore." For the record I was sure she was a vampire at the time. The worse I got the better she looked and vice versa. Ironically enough, a few days after she stopped treating me she died in a car accident. Very strange.

But anyway. You'd think all would be fine and dandy but NOPE. A little while passed and the pain started again, but this time more severe. Turns out I had a fistula and it was eating away at my intestines like a starved parasite. I went in for surgery, having come close to death a second time. And the surgeoun I had was the most wonderful person ever. I can't thank him enough for what he did. When my father talking to him about the specialist who had recently died, all the surgeoun responded with was a roll of the eyes. So he knew something. But he couldn't tell.

In the long run I'm fine now, though the pain still creeps up every once in a while. I just... I HATE that stupid parade all the doctors had me running through for a good year. Answer all my problems with more and more medicine even though the drugs were killing me faster than the god damned disease was. And yes, the drugs did have a detrimental effect on my mind. Thanks to all that crap I have stupid memory problems and I suffer from bouts of confusion. I'm most probably severely depressed, from both the experience and the drugs. It could have been avoided but it seems to me that the doctors were far more interested in the money they'd make from the expensive prescriptions than my well being.

My surgeoun was the only one who thought all the drugs were a bad idea, and he was the only one who showed me any sort of sympathy. I am just so glad I'm not seriously ill anymore.

But anyway... :<

Medical issues are terrible and it seems like most people end up getting tons more drugs that either don't work or don't help out too much. I am sorry you went through all that Rakshiv but I am happy to hear you are getting better.

And don't worry about talking about these things, especially here. It is always good to get this stuff off your chest and who knows, maybe someone might be able to help?

I am also glad to hear you are letting more people in now-a-days, that is a good habit.

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keepin it inside alright

*BADUM TISH*

But seriously, that sucks Rakshiv, but if it makes you feel better there's like two other people who post on the forum/go to IRC that have Chrohn's so I'm sure if you ever need more personal support they will totally see what you're going through and chat with you about it. (Spacemouse and Jerk)

i remember several times when irc turned into chrohn's chat when jerk and mousey were around, it's nice to have people around who can totally see what you're going through and offer help with their own experiences.

And like, it's the kind of thing that sounds so shitty you shouldn't even feel remotely bad for bringing it up to vent. It's not like having a headache, you got this for life, and you're very strong to be fighting through this!!!

@Nik.

Thank you. It's just so thoroughly frustrating, even now thinking back on it. So much mindless greed and stupidity. It's like they were all working together to engineer my demise or something because it would get them the most profit. : /

I'll make sure to get out and talk more. It certainly made me feel a lot better just writing it down, ya know?

@Taeshi

OH I SEE WHAT YOU DID THAR.

Well you made me laugh so it's all good. c:
Hmm, I'll pop into IRC one of these days then. I've been hesitant to, being shy and all, but thank you for bringing it up.

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Aha well I also have chronic headaches but I'm used to those so... Yeah. : P

Spacemouse is a very active member there, Jerk tends to only appear when he's drunk (>:UUUU)

BUT HE WAS THE ORIGINAL CHROHN'S MACHINE.

Do you know the origin of your headaches? My doctor has told me he suspects I just have tension headaches and because I'm so high-strung headaches come very naturally. There was a period of time between 2009-2010 where it was just.. constant headache. It was more interesting to talk about when it wasn't there. And this was something I just dealt with because as a child, anything bad that happened to me I just kept quiet about and tolerated. No medicine for illnesses, no headache pills for headaches.

It was a whiplash getting together with Souppy because he relies on medicine, so he pops pills when he has ailments, and it turns out medicine doesn't really work on me!!!! so it's a case of just.. not taking stuff because what's the point it'll still be there

@Rakshiv: CROHNS DISEASE BUDDIES

seriously though it's stories like yours that are why i refuse all the specialized crohns medications
i have absolutely no desire to be destroyed by a medication


OKAY MOUSEY STORY TIME


so it started when i was 16, i started waking up in the morning with just AWFUL AWFUL stabbing pain below my stomach, on the right. (this is referred to as "the lower right quadrant", fun fact). i was seriously doubled over in pain some mornings. my mom eventually took me to the ER.
turns out i was the most anemic person the ER doctor had ever seen. i had had some tests the month before, but my doctor at the time didn't mention that i was losing blood. a lot of it.

so i get put on iron. one colonoscopy/endoscopy later (colo/endo is basically the worst thing you can do to destroy someone's dignity) my stomach was full of ulcers. my duoadnum. my intestines? fine.

so i get put on nexium to lower my stomach acid. they clear up. we go okay. flash forward to 20.
we decide to try switching from nexium to a generic. TURNS OUT that didn't go over so well, and the ulcers come back. i get an endo i'm awake for, have a negative reaction to the 'calming anesthetics', and get REALLY MAD while there's a tube pumping compressed air down my throat. i refuse a colo again, we go back on nexium. clears up.

flash forward to 2009, age 23. I start having pain again. I head to the ER. Get a CT scan done - turns out i'm starting to show signs of an intestinal infection. the doctors in atlanta kind of clown around trying to figure things out. i start on antibiotics in october.
for the next 6 months, i keep having to go on antibiotics every month. i lose my job, and start bankrupting myself paying for medications. doctors give me some IBS medication, but it just makes things worse. all this time, i start to lose the ability to walk well. surging pain in my right leg whenever i move. whenever i walk. I get on vicodin, to be able to function, all the more draining my resources. frustrated with the state i'm in, i head back north in april, driving 1200 miles in this condition. jobless and insuranceless.

i start being unable to sleep, unable to find comfortable positions. i stop eating entirely, because when i do, i throw up. i start to show signs of antibiotics resistance. it works less every time. i go in for a CT scan.
get rushed via ambulence to one of the top hospitals in the region, because i apparently have an absess on my intestines the size of large fruit. it's hitting my ciatic nerve, causing the leg pain.

i get a tube drilled in my side to drain it. start showing signs of recovery. we decide against surgery. the tubes eventually come out, after i'm recovering, and within a week i'm back at bottom again.

for the next month i'm in the hospital. i have surgery on my intestines, losing my illium in the process. it's then we discover i'm IMMUNE TO MORPHINE. it's during this stay where i wake up in the middle of a procedure, strapped to a ct scanner, having holes drilled into my side. the memory still haunts me. i leave the hospital eventually with multiple drains in my side, surgery scars, and painkillers.

but then, i got better, finally. the drains came out, and i showed no signs of trouble. turns out i'd developed full-blown crohns disease. i'm given specialized diet, and maintain the nexium. and that was all in 2010!

the doctors love to debate if i should start medication. some try to scare me, but i'm educated enough to know about all the problems with crohns medications. if i don't need them yet, i shouldn't be taking them. sometimes i have attacks, but i deal with them. if i don't take the nexium, i throw up blood. again, i deal. i left the hospital with $100K in medical debt. luckily, because COBRA got retroactively applied (because my previous job fucked up the paperwork i fight and get it covered.

and that's the story of mousey

@Teashi

I have no idea what causes my headaches. They're simply there. I've had a few migraines too, and those are really killer, but on a whole my headaches are a mystery to me.

@SpaceMouse

Oh dear, SpaceMouse. All I can say is oh dear. Doctors sure love to clown around when it comes to life threatening things, don't they? You have all my condolences, what you went through sounds much, much worse than what I did. :<

Though in retrospect I just remembered something: it was a colonoscopy I went in for that culminated in my surgery. They had caused a micro tear without realizing it during the 'safe' procedure and it ended up festering into something downright mean. They ended up cutting out a good few inches of diseased intestine.

BUT YEAH, CROHN'S BUDDIES!

I actually met someone a while back who also has crohn's first thing out of his mouth: "We're crohn's buddies now! : D"

This post has been edited by Rakshiv: 27 March 2012 - 05:04 PM

I still remember the formspring question you sent me where you said you were looking at the comic while you were dealing with all of this aaaaaaa

Spacemouse, Rakshiv, I really sympthazize with you guys. It really sucks that you guys had to go through all that, with the doctors and everything. I really relate with the doctors being useless and I'm sorry it all sucked so much. But at least you guys are feeling at least somewhat better now, and that's definitely a good thing.


You know I really wonder how often doctors are just plain useless. I mean, is it possible that this is the case more often then not, with people being shunted from doc to doc to doc for years with nothin coming out of it? I seriously hope not, that kind of shit is baaad boogie.

Smash Genesis, on 27 March 2012 - 05:06 PM, said:

You'd be surprised.

They're worse when you have poor health insurance (or God forbid none)

American doctors do sound a whole lot more shonky than what we have over here. Then again I've never needed serious surgery and stuff like that before, so I've never had a long-term problem like you guys have.

The most is just figuring out things like the origin of headaches and psychological shit, but it's kind of a given that psychological stuff is meant to take years and years and it's not instant, as frustrating as it is to say.

Which makes it interesting when I hear of americans that say they were diagnosed immediately and pills were thrown at them.

I dunno about Australia, but doctors' MO in America - so far as I can tell - is just to throw pills at patients. Like, there was this one doctor who just kept throwing Abilify at me even when it was clear it didn't work. I'm on it again, but not for my TS like before. And what was really shitty was that the doc just refused to listen when we told her that no, this one med was not a miracle drug! And I was sick for like, an extra year because of that.

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Unfortunately more often than not. It seems that as humanity grows ever larger, our morals and ethics ever decrease.

Hell, I'm Canadian and pills were thrown at me by at least one doctor. The most expensive ones she could get her pale vampiric hands on. But what are you gonna do? It's best to just be happy with what I have. I'm just glad I'm alive. c:

Either way, everyone in this thread deserves hugs. I wish I could hug y'all. :<

Rakshiv, on 27 March 2012 - 05:02 PM, said:

i hate colo/endos so much
like, the prep, the actual thing UGH
for those that don't know you basically have to fast for 24-48 hours, where you are only allowed to DRINK clear liquids and EAT nothing except non-red italian ice or non-red, non-orange jell-o MEANWHILE drinking about 2 liters of this foul liquid chalk that cleans out your entire system like a baby ruth bar in a swimming pool
basically losing part of your intestine is awful. i imagine it's less losing the middle part, but since i'm missing the illium, i'm missing the part that regulates when you have to go. so my system sends false signals all the time now, which i have to listen to, otherwise _disaster_.

i find people with crohns have a pretty strong kinship

Taeshi, on 27 March 2012 - 05:03 PM, said:

well it was true
i found bcb during recovery and it really helped me get through all the awful things in my life at the time

Meowth, on 27 March 2012 - 05:08 PM, said:

i found the doctors didn't care about me not having insurance, it was a much bigger concern to actually have me live. money was kind of a secondary thing, at least at lahey clinic

This post has been edited by SpaceMouse: 27 March 2012 - 05:32 PM

SpaceMouse, on 27 March 2012 - 05:32 PM, said:

I'm glad you actually got some decent people. I've had some good doctors when I was at a very big hospital out of town for hematuria. In terms of general practitioner (and even some specialists), I've seen some pretty crappy people. I swear one of them was dealing drugs.

@Smash

These doctors also really like to give anti-depressants for things that have nothing to do with depression. Somehow anti-depressants are miracle drugs, yet ironically most people don't even need them.




And I hate to get off the topic of Crohn's disease (which I still need to get checked for [colonoscopy ]), I've had a rather rough 24 hours, and I feel it constitutes being posted

I did not originally plan on writing this, but I have nothing else to do so I may as well.

Two things have happened in the last two days that have been rather frustrating. The first was last night – a car accident. I was with a few friends, one of them I hadn’t seen in over a year and was visiting for Spring Break. We were actually on our way to take him home when my friend turned and a lady ran a red light. She T-boned us hard enough to send us into the front end of another car.

I remember just as I was grasping what had happened I heard her screaming. She had jumped out of her car and was screaming for someone to call the police. The first thought that went through my head was that someone had died. Several people got out of their cars to help her, and someone came up to me and asked if we were all okay (I wasn’t driving, I was in the front passenger seat). I told him we were and I asked him if she was okay. He didn’t answer, because I don’t think anyone knew at that point.

I only just then remembered I was in a car with 3 other people, so I asked if they were all okay. Two answered, one didn’t. I started to panic and yelled at him to respond, but finally my friend in the backseat told me he was fine, just in pain. Luckily, we were all able to walk. We got out of the car and sort of stood in the middle of the intersection. It is weird to be standing there, surrounded by parked cars after just getting nailed. A few assholes were honking too, as if that was necessary

The woman driving the car was still in hysterics. She was clutching her six year old. I had honestly thought he was dead. I knew I had nothing to do with it, but I felt extremely guilty. Like it had been my error it happened. Another stroke of luck: she was fine, her kid was fine, she was just freaking out.

The rest of the story is pretty uneventful. I had one friend (the one visiting for Spring Break) go to the hospital for a concussion. The driver’s lip was a little swollen and he was pretty shaken up. The friend who was in pain got a little banged up and had hit his head, but luckily he didn’t have a concussion. I was fine, despite having the car virtually drive into me. I had some scratches, bruises, and a little whiplash, but even that was minor.

I remember my friend telling me how he saw the car at the last minute and he tried to speed up, but he didn’t get far. It was then I realized that if he hadn’t sped up, the car WOULD have driven into me. It hit right in between the front and back seat. If he hadn’t put his foot on the pedal, it could have possibly gone straight into me.

It is a weird feeling to see the car coming toward you and knowing there is nothing you can do. Honestly, I’m just glad nobody was killed or seriously injured. The driver of the other car, to my knowledge is okay as well, and despite her hysterics, her kid is as well. She ran a red, had a witness, and her kid wasn’t in a car seat. You can imagine the level of fucked she is right now.

The second thing that occured happened maybe twenty minutes ago, and was actually worse for me specifically. My mother was once again denied for disability, which is a serious problem, because she is unable to work. She has a slew of problems such as scoliosis, rheumatoid arthritis (this is the worst one), carpal tunnel syndrome in both hands, emphysema, PTSD, and clinical depression. But, I suppose since she is capable of seeing and walking, that isn’t enough. Somehow, she can’t get medicade either, so she is without health insurance.

This has been a pretty gay 24 hours.

WHY DO PEOPLE TRY TO RUN RED LIGHTS MAN

that happened to me with a guy that did that and the police were really racist to me and my father (Assuming I was on something while being all chill with the other guy), thinking we were the ones that screwed up when other people testified that it was the other guy's mess up and not our fault at all.

Also that's pretty badass that your friend last-minute practically rescued you, and it's good nobody died. The six year old was in total risk wow

That sucks about your mother as well, I wish there was something job-related she could do in the mean time, is there no chance of trying for it again or is it basically just final that she won't get disability?

Ha, no one thought I was on drugs, but I did have a few people thinking I was in shock because I was the only person not freaking out.
My friend's mom actually handed me her camera to take a picture of the car because she was shaking so much.

And sadly, there isn't much she can do. Her last denial literally said she could not stand or sit for more than 30 minutes at a time. I mean really, what do these people think she can do? This is a horrible job market, so even if we were able to find a job she probably couldn't get it. With the little bit she does she is in crippling pain. She literally had to lower the dosage on her medicine herself because she couldn't afford it anymore. Not to mention, because this medical system is so fucked up, she is stuck on methadone, the same medicine given to people quitting heroin. Yes, because methadone is better than oxycotin or vicodin -- oh wait, it is actually far worse. The joke is that methadone is just as hard as heroin to quit. But at least back when she had medical insurance they were still trying to help her pain -- by prescribing fucking anti-depressants. I don't understand how these doctors are intelligent enough to take care of themselves, let alone other people.

And she can apply, but she has been trying for over 6 years, and things have only been getting worse. Hopefully, I'll be getting a job soon. Don't really want to be a lifeguard, but I don't really have a choice. I'm lucky to even be getting that. But when I start bringing in money, I can help her out. I just wish she could get this, because I can't take care of her, myself, and go to college. It is just too much to pay for. Not to mention how hard it is getting by now with everything falling apart. Serious pain my ass.

Damn Meowth. That was a close call with that car wreck. I'm glad you weren't hurt too bad.

As for disability, this is rarely necessary (most times simply appealing does the trick, you're rarely approved your first time) but in your mother's case she should get a lawyer. There are plenty of lawyers who will take the case on contingency, for a moderate amount of the back pay. Make sure you get a decent one though, so spend some time shopping around.

Take it from experience: if she can't work for whatever medical/psychological reason, she's disabled. Whoever is handling her case is a prick, and thankfully she has a right to appeal. Once she gets disability, they will have to give her medicaid as well--so focus on that.

Carcharocles, on 27 March 2012 - 06:10 PM, said:

Well her first denial was YEARS ago. And yeah, her first lawyer fucked us. He basically said "you're gonna get it," and then she didn't, and he didn't have anything to say.

Haha oh man, yes, I have a nasty habit of only showing up while under the influence of something. I can't explain why, I guess it's the only time I feel enthusiastic to talk to people. And yes: Crohn's. Though my experience hasn't been half the Hell poor Mousey's been through. I'd love to get on IRC more often but I don't really have anything to say that couldn't be put better here.

I don't know what I'd do without morphine. Then again, I'm a pretty obvious painkiller addict.

If you stopped making drugs that feel better than orgasms maybe I wouldn't be so quick to jump toward them whenever I've a flare up.

@Taeshi My brother is just a real loser, last I heard he was mooching off a friend, and I know he isn't involved in his daughter's life, which is actually good for her because he was awful to her mom. But he's out of my life, which is all that matters to me.
@Susan Thank you, it means a lot that you would offer that ^^

Oh man so many people have had medical issues. That just, sucks so bad.

This post has been edited by nate: 27 March 2012 - 09:52 PM

I honestly have no idea why I'm writing this. I promised myself that after I posted the spider incident I'd keep past things out of it, but since this still affects me I suppose it fits under my "current drama only" rule for this thread.

Back in about 1989, my mom realized I was a very hyperactive child. Using her insurance (Humana, though they've since changed these policies) she took me to a psychiatrist, who prescribed me Ritalin and diagnosed me with ADHD. Now, one could argue I was more or less normal, or that I had already begun to develop my disorder, but either way ADHD was definitely *not* what was going on. The drug caused a weird, self-destructive behavior pattern where I was try to jump out of 2nd story windows. I wasn't suicidal, but I don't really know what was going on in my head; this does lead to the theory that my disorder was already present though. I'll get to that later. Anyway, they ended up changing the medication, but it only barely helped.

Fast-forward to the First Grade. Despite my tendency to be honest even when it hurts, I'm seen as telling stories. My first grade teacher is convinced I am a trouble maker. The entire class hates me. Problem is, I'm actually very well behaved, it's everyone else that is acting out. I literally had an entire school bullying me. I got blamed for any problems in class because my teacher's "popular choice" system for determining fault simply allowed them to blame me. Why? Because I was weird. I had a far more active imagination than most kids my age, and I couldn't really see the difference between reality and fantasy. Eventually, I was brutally and horribly assaulted in the 2nd grade, and it landed me in the hospital. After that, my "weirdness" just kind of went into overdrive. The stress had triggered my disorder.

For the next few years, I suffered bad bullying, teachers who disliked me and a decreased ability to separate reality from fantasy. Also, on top of my hyperactivity I was suffering frequent bouts of depression. I had a tendency to run and answer someone when I thought they called for me; they didn't. My mom, and the school district itself, tried to figure out what was happening, and were convinced I had a serious problem. My psychiatrist simply told my mom to monitor my video game and movie time, and increased my ADHD meds. My principal and my mom became convinced that the school itself was hazardous to my health, and I was transferred to another school where I was still bullied, but also began making friends.

Unfortunately, on my fifth year of school, things came to a head. After a student tripped me in music class (which wasn't scene by the teacher, who assumed I was goofing around), I began to suspect that I was being persecuted. Next music class, I hid under my desk to keep from going. Eventually, my teacher found me and took me to the counselor's office. The counselor, not quite understanding what was happening, thought I needed to calm down, and her attempt to do this involved sitting me in a privacy desk and blocking my view of the room with a movable bulletin board. In a kid who was simply scared, this would've done exactly what she needed. In my case, it added fuel to the fire. I climbed out from under the desks an ran down the hall. A few seconds into it, a hand reached out and grabbed me. I began to kick and scream. The counselors suddenly realized there was more to what was going on than a simple scared kid, but they didn't know what. They called me my mom, and tried to calm me down by having me read.

In my mind, these counselors were going to hurt me. I genuinely believed that at the time. I figured if I could get to the Principal's office, I could plead my case. Unfortunately, the door was locked.

I decided to pick the lock. When the counselor's weren't looking, I grabbed a pair of scissors and a paper clip and immediately went to work. One of the counselors saw this and tried to stop me; I freaked out and swung the scissors at her. The counselors by this point had a VERY good idea of what was going on, so thankfully they took the correct course of action: they called the police to have them restrain but not arrest me. After having a cop sit on my back for a half an hour, I had managed to calm down. The school didn't want to press charges--they understood that there was something more going on. It's just that no one knew what it was.

About a month or so later I was sent to Charter Hospital, where I was re-diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I was there for 33 days. I even missed Thanksgiving. Two months later, I was placed in a residential home, where I stayed for about 3 months. Afterward, I spent two years in a behavioral management school being slowly integrated into public school, when some bad memories I don't feel like talking about resurfaced forcing me into a 6 month stay at the previous residential home. After coming home, that previous spider incident happened, and the rest of my childhood shifted between taking care of my mom and being hospitalized. At one of these points, I mentioned a recurring hallucination and delusion, which finally led to the correct diagnoses: Schizo-affective disorder, bipolar type. They adjusted my meds, increased the amount of respirdol I was taking, and sent me home. I was finally starting to improve. I began to take care of my body and practice hygeine (something I had not done since the 5th grade) and started to grasp my symptoms. As a result, my last two hospitalizations were both self-admissions, one when I was 17, and another when I was 19. Although the years after these haven't been perfect, I haven't needed a hospitalization since.

The diagnosis, assuming it developed early on, explains my hyperactivity, my weird behavior, my "overactive imagination," (really a complex delusion) as well as my paranoia later on. The ADHD meds weren't helping at all; they do not treat this type of disorder--a psychotic disorder. In fact, they can cause mania directly. So basically, my disorder caused me to be viciously bullied, which in turn caused my disorder to go into full swing, and the fact that my psychiatrist refused to change my diagnoses even when he had the facts that it was something else means my entire childhood from the 4th grade on could've been prevented.

I'm sorry if this bores you. I'm having issues with symptoms recently, and I just needed to vent.

Wow, that sounds pretty messed, Car. I'm sorry to hear that. I'm fairly sure I had ADHD as a kid, my 3rd grade teacher even said so, but my parents told her to fuck off and stop insulting me. The meds might have helped, but I think I preferred the isolation and slight bullying I got as a kid in the end. Because I was more of an observer and had to question a lot of the reason why I was held different from everyone else, I learned to better understand people and their emotions, why they would react certain ways and how social structures worked. I was much better prepared for relationships and I know exactly how to get to the good side of people (especially teachers, because they felt empathy for me when I was younger, and I got really relaxed with them). It always feels like the depression from the past is constantly underlying my emotions, or maybe it's just because I always seem so cautious in how I respond to people, I feel almost mechanical rather than emotionless and that might just contribute to my ongoing depression. Do you feel like you got anything positive from your childhood? Mine wasn't as bad as yours, I didn't ever have to change schools, go to a hospital, get (seriously) physically abused, get misdiagnosed or anything, but the early isolation is still the same and is a major contributor to depression. But sometimes depression can help you notice things that others don't bother with, you know?

That is horrible, Carcharocles. I'm sorry to hear you had to endure all of that. The worst part is how long it took for you to truly get helped. If only they would have found out what was going on sooner, maybe you wouldn't have had to go through so much.

I'm glad you've found a combination and dosage of medicine that helps -- even if it is only most of the time.

Swimmer, As sucky as my childhood was overall, there were some good moments, mostly centered around my family. For example, my Grandfather was a firefighter (well, fire investigator by the time I was born) and he and I really bonded when I was young. It helped that he's a rockhound like me. Before his health failed a few years ago, we were planning a trip to the Kansas Chalk and Aurora Mines for fossil hunting. Even though those got canceled, so many positive memories came from local hunts.

Meowth, Geodon is a fucking lifesaver. No psych med works 100% of the time though, so I have to be mindful of what's going on in my mind. But my major problems seems to be that Lithium isn't pulling its weight anymore, as I'm getting more and more frequent manic episodes. It does hold them back, so I'm not as bad as I was, say, last September or so, but it causes the same old hyperactivity and stupid decision making.

@The Swimmer

Yeah they help, especially in a mundane environment like the american education system. But, being on amphetamine salts all the time kind of, I don't know, sucks the life out of you. I start to feel like an automaton after a while. But the alternative is having little self control and no attention span.

That sounds like a horrible thing to live through, Carch. I'm glad you're feeling better from all that nonsense, being of course the lack of real help early on. While I understand that diagnosing problems like that is far from easy, no one deserves to be prosecuted for it. :<

@Carcharocles Wow, that sounds really rough.
Certainly makes the stuff I had go trough, which I considered hell, sound like childs play.

I figured I might as well post some of my dramatic moments here as well.
Don't worry, I'll keep it short.

Story number 1: When I was in about... 5th grade, I recall my family throwing a birthday for most of my classroom. It had a pirate theme, and everyone was given a plastic toy sword as a gift. This was actually a really fun party, and my friends would refer to it as the best birthday ever. (Aside from their own, obivously.)
However, those toy were also given to my kid brother and cousin, who decided that we should have a mock battle with them. In the midst of this battle, the two of them decided to do the same thing, at the same time, aiming for the same area.
They literally stabbed me in my mouth.

So I was coughing up blood, and my throat hurt like hell. I was taken to a hospital, were I was told that my tonsils were to be removed. Luckily, I just had to eat some ice cream to cool down my throat, and no further harm was done.
Though I still find it freaky as hell that I was stabbed in the mouth by two swords at once.

Story 2: This is just me being really, REALLY big fu**ing idiotic, and I want to bash my face in for being so incredibly stupid.
When I was around 13 years old, I was having trouble keeping up with the expectations of my parents. I still do, though not to the same extent.
The thing is, I was always praised by teachers when I was young, and I was bullied because of this. Because of the constant bullying, I was determined to excel at something, and since I suck at sports, I tried being to be the smartest male kid in class.
And while I did become the smartest male person in my class, they kept on bullying me.

Once I got to the age I mentioned earlier, the bullying had pretty much stopped completely, and I no longer saw a reason to dedicate my entire life to studying. I was still getting pretty good grades, but I never managed to get as much praise as I did earlier. Because of this, my parents would freak completely out whenever I did something poorly, even if it was something I was legitimately bad at. (Such as German language.)

At this point, I was having quite a few suicidal ideas. It was mostly just speculation, but it became more and more severe. I even wrote a suicide note once, though I obivously didn't go through with it. (And, as I said earlier, I want to punch myself from back then for being so overdramatic.)

It's pretty obivous that I wasn't going to go through with it though, since most suicide notes are about saying goodbye, while mine was just regular teen rage, trying to make my parents feel bad for letting this happen. (Again, I want punch myself from back then. This was just my way of ´´getting it out of my system,`` I guess.)

Eventually I got over it, and I started to just deal with it. They're pretty good with the grades I get nowadays, though they still think I can do better.

So yeah, that's how much of an overdramatic idiot I used to be.
Hope it wasn't too boring to read.

This post has been edited by mAceOfHearts: 28 March 2012 - 03:17 PM

In a way writing a venting note like that helps clear things up and make you reconsider a decision, so it's good that happened!! I know there's been times I went back to journal entries done on the spur of the moment and going "jesus christ cry more you baby"

Sort of like how you can write an essay, leave it for a few days, and come back to see all the mistakes. Coming back after having cooled off makes you realise it was all just emotion and not true logic.

When you put it like that, it actually sounds reasonable.
I suppose writing about it was better than actually doing it.

Suppose I'll throw one of my past stories into this thread.

Back when I was...hmm maybe around 16 or so? Anyway, when I was around 16 a close friend of mine, one I actually viewed as a close sister. She had just finished high school and soon after that signed up for the military. Some time later was deployed over to the Middle East for combat. We had a very long past together. Met at around 5 years of age and just became friends that stuck together through anything. I do remember at one point when she was a Junior and I was a freshman there was a chance for us to date, but we both decided against it since we thought if it ended terribly. We'd both lose a good friend. We had things in common. A lot of things, but we were just friends who didnt click together fully I guess. Thats not what bothers me though.

As I said, she was like a sister to me. Close and what not. I was upset that she was leaving for war. She said its what her father did and she wanted to follow in her families foot steps. Of course I told her to be careful and hoped she'd come back un injured. Yeah that was wrong. So a few months later I go over to visit her brother. Since we both met in Jr. High and became friends from the connections and what not. I went over to hand out for a bit. Play some games and what not. And I walk in to see them all on the couch, their heads hung in despair. I asked what was wrong and they all just got done reading a letter...a letter notifying the family that she was KIA from a roadside.

Needless to say I was crushed, but not as much as her family of course. Back then I really didnt have many friends besides around 5. Her brother, herself and 3 other friends that moved away after Jr. High. I don't really remember much. I spoke to the other 3 on occasion, but eventually we just all stopped contacting each other. Surely I was depressed back then, I became a lot more quiet, not really knowing how I should have felt or act after losing someone so close to me for so long. One day I decide to go ask her brother how he was doing and his parents were out of town so I figured he could really use the company...I walked into his room where he intentionally over dosed on medication he was prescribed. The whole scene is a blur and I suppose I just acted on impulse and fear, silently hoping that if I got him to a hospital quick enough they could save him. But sadly no, he was dead when I found him. I never did attend their funerals either. I dont know why, but I feel I just cant attend an event like that. About 2 weeks after his funeral I didn't really speak to his parents, I figured they were going through enough shit to worry about me as they did and said I'll be ok and at least hoped for their sake they'll be ok as well.

So pretty much I was left without anyone to speak with during the rest of those years. I was surely depressed losing two great people forever. We hung out all the time. To say I dont know what I was thinking over the next month would be an under statement. I was being a fucking idiot. One Saturday night I was alone, my mother and her fiancee were out of town on vacation and my brother was attending a university 3 hours away so he didn't come home except for the school breaks. We had a firearm for protection in a cupboard in our kitchen. And for some reason, the feeling of being alone in my stomach was to much. I felt my stomach churn and I actually vomited. I never really did see myself as THAT much of a mess until now. So I went downstairs, got the gun and walked into my garage. This next thing still freaks me out to this day.

So I get on my knees and get ready to end it all. I was just so sick of this pain, this depression I felt, not wanting to wake up. Go to school. Talk to anyone but just my family at times. I was just so silent without realizing how bad I was. So I put the gun up to my head, take a few deep breaths and shut my eyes and pull the trigger. The next sound I hear is a loud click with a clash...the gun had actually jammed...a gun that my family kept under well maintenance and cleaned properly...jams. How that happens I do not understand but it was that very sound that snapped me out of it. I was freaked out with myself after that. But it was enough for myself to straighten up and get my act together.

I went to my school counselor to speak with her about it and thankfully she didn't speak to my family about it. (They have no idea this happened)

After that its just the whole drill everyone probably knows. Talk about it with someone. (Even though I rarely did with my counselor) Mainly I got over this by myself. I just started looking on the other things in life that made me happy. Small things that added up for me. People said that I was the quiet kid and I was started to speak up a little more and meet some new people in school.

Though the whole story of that recovery is boring to me and I dont wana repeat. All I can say is somehow I was given a second chance I guess? And that was enough for me to get my act together. Now today I'm a lot more easy going and happy. I am stressed a lot about my academics and such but who isnt

This post has been edited by Leo-Inu: 30 March 2012 - 12:27 PM

What I don't understand about your story is the end. From what I understand, you say that it's a good idea to talk to people about it--yet you kept it from your own family? Why? I doubt that they'd be mad at you... Worried and concerned, and they'd try to help you.

At this point, I guess it's not really completely necessary--no need to trouble them with the details if you feel better now, but still, at the time, they would have been there for you, I hope?

EDIT: Also, mAce: common myth... Very, very few suicides are accompanied with suicide notes. Most suicides are just done, no explanation behind them.

This post has been edited by Lux Aeterna: 30 March 2012 - 07:58 PM

I just dont really like worrying my family and friends at times like those I suppose. I dont really know. Its just at that time I felt I needed to get through this on my own with as little help as possible, and well. I did.

@Lux: Is that so?
I figured almost every suicide was accompanied by a note explaining why someone would kill him/herself.
The more you know, I suppose.

@Leo: I can relate, I never told my family about it either.

@Leo: I can relate as well, I'll admit. When I asked "Why?" it was more like, "Oh no... Why does someone else have to fall into this trap?" Because it's not really healthy, but... Hey, I wouldn't ever tell you to stop what you're doing because... well first it's your life; second, I do it myself, so I'm in no place to talk.

And at least it worked out for ya in the end.

@mAce: No--think about the rationale. Generally people who are genuinely going to commit suicide are so focused on their own death and how much the world hates them that one of two things happen: they either don't care about the world at that point or they figure none of the world cares to know about their reasons.

The few who write suicide notes are actually the odd ones. They're despondent enough to want to kill themselves, yet somehow sentient enough to explain themselves. I can only hypothesize about what it means for those people--there are always the unique cases, I guess.