Thursday, 22 November 2018
The ER was an absolute zoo, at least two other patients had been hauled in by the cops, the rest came in seemingly on their own, or with family. There were no available beds, so once I got formed, I had to sleep on a gurney in the hall. Then I was transferred to an EU bed until a ward bed became available. Basically I spent the whole time drugged up so that I was asleep all the time, and the food was so bad I could barely eat anything but cheese sandwiches and fruit cups. When I finally got a bed on the women's ward, I had already figured out that nothing good was going to come of this stay, that it was an unnecessary venture and that I had jumped the gun in going to a hospital. But I had to wait to talk to a shrink to get the form voided, so that took more waiting. (Oh yeah - my first sign this was not going to be a good stay was when an ER doctor brought up electroconvulsive therapy, or ECT, as a viable treatment option for me - NOOOOO! My memory already sucks!)
When I finally did see the ward doctor, and ended up having to bring up channeling as a part of my experiences, he made some smart ass quip about having read "Harry Potter" (which I found incredibly insulting - does he mock First Nations women for their ceremonial practises, too?). The remainder of the questions I mostly answered with "I'd rather not talk about that", until he agreed to end the form.
To add insult to injury, the hospital LOST the medications I brought in with me, and had the audacity to deny having done so. I raised my voice and demanded that they fix the problem until they wrote a new prescription, that I thankfully did not have to pay for. What an utter waste of my time. I will only ever go to a psych ER again if I am convinced I am suicidal. That's it. This was bullshit!
I am disappointed a bit by the women's ward this time - last time it wasn't so bad. They were pretty swamped to be sure, but the incompetence with the meds was inexcusable. I am so done with all of this crap, but really, in this heartless shithole of a city, there aren't many options for poor people like me. Toronto is motherfucking Terry Gilliam's 'Brazil' to me, when it comes to bureaucratic protocol. So glad I can at least afford my top notch Jungian for therapy - many wouldn't even be able to swing that. (My therapist was the kind, helpful voice of reason over the phone throughout all of this - what a great man.)
Bell Let's Talk? Nay... Bell, Let's Burn CAMH To The Ground and Start Over!
EDIT: I am doing well again... back to being on track. I had a great session with my Jungian, this was just some weirdness through channeling I received and I got concerned and assumed things were going to get rough again, but they didn't. I think this is just transformative shit at play. I'm praying that the dimethyltryptamine that is likely active in my brain increase in flow... we'll see what that leads to, perhaps it's a neurological, developmental shortcut, rather than just focusing on chakras 'n shit? I'm kinda seeing some fractal-esque stuff on and off in my mind now so maybe it's moving things along. I will likely discuss this further in the future. (I have never taken ayahuasca or anything like that, but DMT runs naturally in the brain anyway. It's triggered during an awakening, but also during near death experiences, and when the body begins to die. I know enough about it from my kundalini studies, but not much from a biochemical standpoint.)