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  • maria1
    caution: only for those who want to go there

    Part One

    ​After being on 100mg of Zoloft for years, I told the gp I wanted to stop, he said to cut the dose in half for a week then stop it all together. [at the time I did not know that zoloft was one of those drugs that you needed to wean off slowly]. When my pain med ran out i calledd for more, my doc was away for weeks, the on call md would not write a script without tests , after tests still no script. There was nothing to stop the pain, no one was listening, i was going out of my mind. I decided to end it all. I swallowed a bunch of baclofen, all that did was get me to sleep for an hour. I awoke in deeper despair. Next I would try injecting air in my vein( i saw that worked on tv) four times I tried but I have rolling veins and failed. Finally I decided to slit my wrists. I set the water in the bath to hot because I did not want to be cold, and slit both wrists.
    ​All that happened was that the blood exposed on my wrists coagulated and I was still alive. 

    ​My partner would be home from bowling and I did not want him to be connected with this in any way, so I dialed 911 and said I tried to kill myself. The sheriff arrived and broke down the door, I had not answered the bell quickly enough. Emt arrived, wrapped my wrists and loaded me in the ambulance but the truck was stuck in the ice in the driveway. I was freezing and asked for a blanket (there is no heat in the ambulance if it is not running). After an hour someone felt sorry for me and went in the house and got me a blanket. After two hours frozen  in the driveway I was on my way to the hospital 35 miles away.

    ​In the er the md told me to hold my arm up straight as he began to stitch my wrists, I told him I was not able, he did not care. My arm began to jerk violently with every stitch. I passed out. Next when I woke I was in ICU. That was Valentine's Day 2007.

    ​A day later i woke on a ward suffering with allergies (spider mites in February?) and asked for a script. During the day I asked again after throwing up several times, finally, the nurses must have complained about having to clean up all the messes and they got me some allergy relief.

    Some woman came in to speak with  me, she said the judge had signed an order to have me committed.

    ​I was in a wheel chair ready to leave the hospital when a cop came in and put hand cuffs on my wrists, saw that I was weak and decided not to put shackles on my ankles. I was put in a transport vehicle that had the door banged up and would not completely close, there was a breeze through the bronco? for the two hour ride to the nut house.

    ​[At the barber shop my partner later found out that for two hours that night the county and tate highway departments were fighting over who was responsible for sanding the driveway to get the ambulance free. A big topic for the barbershop gossip. I was glad they did not know he was my partner.] 
  • maria1
    Part Two

    ​When I arrived at the nut house they removed the hand cuffs and took a polaroid of my face. Someone escorted me through a locked door to a locked elevator to the fourth floor. In the hall my escort unlocked the first of a series of doors until I arrived at a place with many doors on the exterior of the building forming a u shape around a common room that was flanked by women's bathroom on one side of the building men's on the other. Facing t he common room was a nursing/guard station  and a handicapped bathroom. i wanted to use the handicapped bathroom it was large enough for me to maneuver with cane and unstability but was told I must leave the door open, I opted to use the dark little stalls in the women's room. The hot food was awful {though one of the guards who was exmilitary said it was pretty good} so I only ate sandwiches while I was there.

    ​The bed was a lumpy cot in a room with three other beds that was separated with dividers. At night the guard would come by every hour and shine a flashlight to wake us to be sure we were asleep. I arrived late Wednesday afteroon. Thursday I was brought into a conference room that barely fit an enormous table where the psycharitist was seated with eleven others nursers and whomever. They interviewed me for a while. I told them I was not trying to kill msyelf, I was trying to stop the pain.

    ​In the common room at tables and chairs sat the rest of the nuts of various ages, male and female. Some personnel were walking around with clip boards and pencils making marks on sheets. There were a few old books children's encyclopaedia, a few magazines, some crayons pencils and stencils to color in. I grabbed a few and made myself comfortable at a table. I could not help observing that staff never were in contact with the nuts, they seemed to be afraid of them and their unpredictability. It looked to me like staff saw the nuts as aliens. I was very uncomfortable there. I felt like Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. I kept getting the sense that staff had no idea what was going on with the nuts, they were just making up their own stories about what was going on. When I was in the med room getting the bandages on my wrists changed the nurse said to me: 'Why did you do that? God only gives you what you can handle." A declaration of fact, looking for no reply. On a wall in a common room was a thermostadt in a plexiglas case with a lock. The temperature was set for 77 degrees. The heat was killing me. 

    ​My partner made two hour trip that night to visit me but had to turn around halfway there because although they said they could get all my drugs they could not get the Betaseron and had he had to turn around and go back home for my drugs, so our vivist was short. I told him I was really scared and he had to get me out of that place.

    ​Early Friday afternoon the psycharitist came to me to say that I was going to be released but on Monday, even though most stays must be for four days. (Maybe they got scared of their liability because I told my partner how hot it was and in our phone call Friday morning he mentioned he said that to the nut dr and the negative effect it has on persons with ms.

    ​Most committment stays in the nut house must be for four days minimum the dr told me. I was going to be there over the weekend, but that didnt count? maybe because the medical staff were off on weekends(and they think I am nuts? There for four and a five days but only counts as two?)
  • maria1
    Part Three

    ​On that Friday, a woman I shall call Ann, went into a rage. She was suppose to have a review that day to get relased but was bumped because of time. She was walking around screaming and yelling in a rage. I approached her and said she looked like she could use a hug, could I give her one? She said yes, I gave her a hug. I only know that she was a parole officer. 

    ​Another woman who was sharing the room I was in, got moved to the 'padded cell' it really had soft walls. The two other women in the room complained about her keeping them up all night pacing and praying out loud. She was locked up for attacking her husband who was abusing her daughter and herself(she said). When I was leaving I gave her a half a box of tissues and a the box of jelly candies I had left. She said that was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her.

    ​There was a young man there, reasonably uneducated with artistic skill who was dying to see under one of my bandages to look at my scar and stitches, he had a sorta Bela Lugosi smile on his face, like licking his lips. 

    ​This experience sits up at the top, with divorce, and death of a spouse as my most horrible experiences. After I was released I went back to the gp. He mentioned that he had another patient whom he HAD had lost. But that if anyone would ask him, he would deny what he said to me about cutting out the zoloft.


    END
  • bubbadog66
    Several years ago, pre MS diagnosis, during one of my many ER visits for "MS symptoms" that were all in my head I made an off the cuff comment about blowing my head off with my shotgun while they were discharging me from the ER....they discharged me to a locked nut ward instead. Supposed to be there minimum 72 hours...was discharged in less than 36.
     
    In our dayroom they let me play a staff members guitar...another nut played the piano. We jammed for a good hour until we both had enough. Everyone harassed us to play more...we weren't there to entertain them!!!! They let me use the guitar without "direct" supervision. I used a plastic card for a strumming pick....when i asked to borrow scissors to cut the plastic card into the shape of a pick they refused on grounds i might hurt myself of others with them. Things that make you go hmmmmm....like a guitar with 6 metal strings wouldn't be a "better" weapon than a pair of small scissors!!

    Yup, gotta be REALLY selective with which health care providers i am forthcoming with concerning "today's" suicidal ideations brought on by the anxiousdepression my MS has blessed me with these days.

    Thanks for your story.

    Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't as the Mounds/Almond Joy jingle goes!!
  • beaurylancambria
    The truth is we never let it get to us, and that is a lie.
  • MS_Navigators
    Hello Maria,

    Thank you for sharing your story and I'm sorry that you had to go through this experience. Unfortunately, depression and thoughts of suicide can be a part of MS for some people. I encourage anyone who is having thoughts of suicide to reach out to their doctor or to call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. They are available to talk 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Their phone number is 1.800.273.8255 or you can visit their website: National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

    You can also call and speak to an MS Navigator for support. Our phone number is 1.800.344.4867 and we are available Monday - Friday, 7am-5pm MST.

    Best,
    MS Navigator Stephanie 
  • Elizabeth-Lyn
    In January 2016, I was in the same dark place and looking for a way out permanently.  Diagnosed with PPMS in December 2001, I was confined to a wheel chair and had very little use of my left side (arm and leg).  Couldn't eat very much because my stomach was always in knots; my diet consisted mainly of sunflower seeds and yogurt.  My weight was varying between 94-96 pounds.  I couldn't sleep more than 2 hours at a time during the night, wake up smoke a joint so I could go back to sleep.
    While researching the best way to end my life, knowing if I messed up they would commit me, I started remembering the end of every conversation I had with two special ladies in my life, "You know God can help."  The two ladies were my husband's cousin’s wife and her mom, his cousin is the Pastor of the church I am now a member of.
    I did not grow up in a Christian home and knew very little about the bible and couldn't understand when I tried to read it.  Pastor Mitch met with me after my husband and I attended a few Sunday services.  Because of the PPMS, my short-term memory and ability to, process information has been affected, so he suggested a study bible written for people on a tenth-grade level.  Finally, I was able to start understanding what all the words in the bible mint with the help of Pastor Mitch’s style of preaching and other church members.
    Matthew 11:28, Jesus said “Come to me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”  After accepting Jesus as my Lord and Savior I felt overwhelming peace!  I slept all night for the first time in a long time.  My stomach was no longer in knots and have gained weight.  The Lord has also stopped my daily use of pot and just recently this year, cigarettes.  After smoking a pack a day for over 22 years, smoked my last one August 24, 2017 and have not had the craving for one since then.  Even though my husband smokes around me, the Lord keeps me from craving one. 
    Having a personal relationship with Jesus has changed my life!  Life on this earth in nothing compared to the eternal life God promises.  He promises a life without pain, suffering, death, sickness and no more tears.  The struggles I go through with PPMS on earth, not being able to walk or stand up etc., are not depressing anymore because I know in eternal life disease will not exist.  God is with me every day and would not make it through the day without him!   


     
  • oldhippie
    Ok so now that read this and see who you are, I can only say “ you have  gone, somewhere I am trying with all My heart not to go”. In this I find so much about Me , and I have been there “or vary close’ Myself  quite recently. But as usual I can’t pot it to word’s as elegantly as you.
  • april9517
    That was quite a read! I too was on zoloft for over 5 years. I never told the doctor but I just stopped taking it by myself. I "weaned" off it but not to the point where you are supposed to, its supposed to span anywhere from 3-6 monthes until completely off it (whoops). I'm sorry to hear of the rough ride you have had, it makes me feel a lot less alone though in my battle with depression and anxiety as well. I hope life is looking a little brighter these days, thank you for sharing, was not expecting that wild of a story!
  • maria1
    Thank you MS Navigator Stephanie for your post. I have thought long and hard about posting this tale. It for sure was not a fun experience,  I know I am not unique and my journey though different than others the suffering and emptiness is also not unique. Being old enough not to care about what people think of me made it easier to bare all and express those feelings that are seldom aired. Some here have asked for the 'bad stuff' we have gone through, instead of all the bed of roses stuff. There are still some of us here who think they have nothing to contribute, that what they have to say has no value, or that communicating is not what they want to do, we are missing out on their input. 

    ​Even simply saying, I am unhappy, is valueable to us, we are comforted by others saying what we are thinking. And now that there are still glitches on this site that are keeping some from visiting it is important for us to keep things going here. We are a minority community only about a million in America and we need each other to learn and grow. Information is our power and we are all the same, striving to make things better for ourselves and those whom we hold dear. So it is up to us to take really good care of ourselves and finding our voice is how we do that. 

    Even if we sing off key.
  • maria1
    Hey Old Hippie,  Frank, remember I have been living with ms for more than 50 years,and other assorted abuses. The writing began as I tried to find the right words to express my anger and rage. I used the dictionary and a synonym finder to find the exact word to describe my feeling at the time, most were not strong enough, not hateful enough not poisonous enough. You know the old 'cause and effect' the effect I try to explain to myself, to describe to myself and I keep working at it until I get it right. I know I get it right when the feeling goes away. I can talk(write) to myself for an hour and get one word right. The verbal precision is something I learned through years of therapy, what are you feeling right now? how does that make you feel? if you could say it to them, what would you say?

    ​And it doesnt always work, didnt ten years ago, that was when I learned, the heck with them, 'let's keep dancing...'

    ​Besides, I had plenty of years whe all i could do was think, wasnt able to do much else.

    ​Have you ever read Jack London's work, he's the guy who wrote: 'The Call of the Wild', try some of his stuff, he wrote so pretty, the way he described stuff. Mind you, I dont think he was a nice guy, nor someone I would want to know, but his words describe a journey so well he makes it real. Dont do the movie, it is his writing that counts, he puts us there. Try him for a distraction, then pick a topic and try to describe it, as always, practice, practice, practice.

    ​I just read a quote, from whom? 'There is no teaching, only learning.' And when I write here, i am speaking to myself, telling myself exactly what is going on with me, and sometimes when I think I am speaking to someone else I screw it up. 

    Yeah, I made plenty of wrong choices in all these years.

    ​Even now, I saw a flick on netflix, Treasures from the wreck of.... the unimaginable, about found sunken treasure worth plenty. I bought the whole thing hook line and sinker even though i saw nothing about it in the news. They spent something like 65 million on the flick to lie to me, and I bought it. Ticks me off, I am still gullible for a hoax.

    ​I am no longer afraid of a very dark place, I went there and lived through the degredation of surviving, humilated at every turn. What you resist you become, I use to fear humiliation, I use to fear looking like a fool, i use to fear sounding stupid - now - I fear that if I dont express myself, even when I am wrong, I will regret not speaking my piece. 

    ​Quality of Life is what counts, and only i am able to achieve any quality in my life, and I can only do that if i express to myself, what i want to happen!! 

    ​Now that I have spilled off at the mouth, I can say for sure, I have not expressed it accurately or else I would have an ah ha moment and be done with it.