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Updated: Dec 23, 2022

I woke up on that third morning and I was having a panic attack and a seizure at the same time. A repairman was there fixing my father’s oven and I made enough noise to have him come into my room. I had to make noise because my jaw had clenched shut and my whole body started to shake wildly and convulse. I grabbed the repairman’s thumb and could not let go until my father entered the room and I tried to say through clenched teeth, “Call 911.”

I remember the fear that was surging through me and when the firefighters came, they began to walk me toward the front door. I knew that they would probably give me a shot, but I did not want one for some reason. I was screaming through clenched teeth and trying to beg and fight with them. I felt a pain in my arm, and I cannot recollect anything that happened for the next two days.

I was placed in the hospital once again and the doctors all ran the toxicology tests and found that I had a sedative in my system. I tried to explain to them that I had run out of Xanax and had been taking Benadryl but none of them would pay me any mind.

They informed my family that I had overdosed on Xanax, and I was lucky to be living. I tried to explain that I had overdosed on an over-the-counter allergy pill that the doctor had told me to take, but once again, no one would listen to me, and I got blamed. I was still very groggy and probably did not make total sense, but that was when my family threw me into a not very nice nursing home of 2019. I have heard of other people that were on Xanax and have been told to take Benadryl as well. Even some high-profile people, and all the people have not remembered several days and woke up in a rehab facility for abuse of sedatives and told the same thing. I believe an investigation between these two drugs should be investigated.

I truly hated this establishment. The nurses seemed to be extremely rude, the food was horrid, and the overall environment was so dingy and depressing, it was hard to uplift yourself even a little. The only bright spot in this place for me was in the rehabilitation center and I found the therapists to be very wonderful. The rest of the workforce only seemed to just do as little as possible and would not raise a finger to help anyone.

I fought so hard to get out of this facility. It felt as if it were a prison to me. After a month, I learned that my father and my close relative would be having a meeting with the head nurse and the social worker of the facility. I was uninvited until I accidentally learned of the meeting the day before it happened, and then I was invited.

I was so ready to get out of there, but one of the first things that my close relative said was that I had a history of abusing my prescription drugs, which was an absolute lie. I put myself through hell and prided myself to not take too many pills. When I objected, I was immediately silenced, and nobody once again believed me. They completely took the word of my family members who did not know the absolute truth about me, or my disabilities.

The decision was made that I should have to live another month in this horrible place. A week later, my father came to the facility and said that I could not be released back to my home. All my family members declined to help me get out of this location and kept accusing me of drinking and abusing my pills, which was an out and out lie on their part. That was the harshest thing that I have ever felt and there will always be a rift in my family because of this. It felt like I had been thrown away and the keys to my freedom was being held away from me by my family.

I didn’t give up and would not stand for this. I fought tooth and nail to get out of this horrid facility. The fire that had been lit in my belly had grown a little higher at this time. Since my family would not help me to escape this living hell, I decided to get away from them and move to another city. The social worker at this facility tried everything to get me to stay in this hell hole. However, after the 2nd month, I finally was released by the physical therapy department and they tried to force me into living in this facility, but I got out as quickly as I could.

My father was still listening to the untruths that were being spread about me from this other family member and I could not move home, so I decided to get away from my family, altogether. I did try to move to a larger city and was living in a extended stay hotel. I was looking for a way of living with the delusion that I was strong enough to live away from any help. I made it one week in this hotel.

A room for people with disabilities was unavailable, so I was given a normal room. I would get unsteady and would feel like I was going to fall by getting into the shower. So, I bathed at the sink and then tried to wash my hair in a kitchenette sink. I was washing my hair by pouring a cup of water over my head, looked up too quickly, and my legs gave out from under me. Causing me to fall like a sack of potatoes.

I protected my head so that I would not get another concussion and in doing this, my elbow hit the counter and my arm was thrust upward and backwards. I called an ambulance and went to the emergency room, once again. I was examined, had x-rays taken and sent back to the hotel room with my arm in a sling. I was told that there was not more that they could do to help me and that I should go home and not be alone. I didn’t want to, but the pain coming from my shoulder was so severe, that I phoned my family for help in getting home.

I couldn’t drive and my father was in his late 80’s. He didn’t trust himself to drive 240 miles and get me, and my other family member declined to help me in any way. He believed that I fell because I had moved there and started drinking again. He also had my father’s ear, so he made the rest of my close family members believe it also. I still believe that being lack of all knowledge to be the absolute worst thing possible. I had not had any alcohol in a year and a half, and this was another absolute untruth coming from my family member.

I had to wait another week, but another good friend finally came and took me home. I was taken to my father’s home, but at this point, the pain was so intense that I was having strange dreams and could not walk again. They had also taken me off my panic medication once again and I was in a total delirium. I could not even get up to use the bathroom at this point and had ended up messing myself. I truly did not know where I was or what I was doing at this point.

I was taken to the hospital once again and I was barely aware of being hospitalized. I remember being very angry with my father and my family for making me go through this and still blaming my drinking for the problem. I kept telling everyone that I had not had any alcohol in 18 months, but still, nobody would listen or believe me.

My family member had stopped by the hospital to mainly tell my doctors this untruth and they gave him all my current medical information. He had no right to any of this information, but they willingly gave this to him easily. I put in a HIPPA violation complaint against this hospital and the former facility for releasing information to him, but I was never told of anything happening with either complaint or anyone getting into any trouble.

A different surgeon came in the next day, and he had looked at the x-rays of my shoulder and ordered an MRI for my head. My shoulder had been extensively damaged and dislocated. He was going to have to perform surgery and replace my shoulder, putting in a new metal ball, socket and bone in my upper arm. He also found that when I had fallen at my father’s home two months earlier and had given myself my 6th concussion, I had also received a skull fracture and a brain injury. This had been the cause that made me to be so unsteady, dizzy and had caused me to fall and ruin my shoulder.

Word had been spread around town from my brother and some of my past good friends that I was still drinking and that is what had caused these injuries. I had to spend three long weeks in the hospital because no rehabilitation facility would take me into it. They did not want an alcoholic being put under their care. The doctors in the hospital would wake me up by screaming in my face, “When did you quit drinking?” I would tell them the truth of 18 months, but, once again, none of them would listen to me.

I was having blood taken 5 times per day and night. They couldn’t get any more blood out of my elbow and started taking it from in between my fingers. Once again, I had always had people that believed in me and that seemed to disappear to where no one would believe in me anymore. I could not understand why this family member was doing this to me. That was the most frustrating thing that I have every been through. I may never know, because all I get are lies in response or people blaming me or the drinking that I had quit doing nearly two years before. I never felt more alone! Please come back and read more of my story. I will be adding more soon, so talk to you in a little while.

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