Earlier this week, I was hospitalized for acute creatine kinase – which is, to my understanding, an enzyme that goes awry and starts eating away at your body muscle instead of fat reserves. It’s usually a first indicator of diabetes, but afaik my case was studied closely and I was determined NOT to be diabetic (thank God!!) Apparently my illness was triggered by a 10-day cycle of near-zero sleep…been working on a new novel lately, and this hyper-manic period sometimes results; rarely to this extent, though! (By the way, can you imagine having .9% saline solution pumped through your body for three days straight? SHEER HEAVEN!! I feel soooo relaxed now…)
However, since my hospital visit was technically a 5150 hold (CA-speak for being 72 hours against your will – the only way my friends could get my spaced-out self into an emergency room) I had to, by procedure, consult with a staff social worker before I could be released. The guy who examined me (if you can even call it that) asked only a few questions, and gave me a 'script for Risperidone (anti-psychotic) with the statement that I’ll be on it for the rest of my life.
He also referred me to some county-paid psychiatrist in West Hills. No specific doctor, just a form with instructions on how to make an appointment.
All this with less than five minutes consultation. Please, convince me is was not just one big scam.
(By the way, I did take one pill just to see if it got me high. It did not. Flushed the rest.)
One bad doctor and you’re convinced the whole of psychiatry is a scam? You’re crazy if you think any one of us can convince you. Seriously, you thought it was all a scam before you recent experience?
I have no idea social worker could prescribe medicine. Here in my country, only certified psychiatrist can prescribe such medication (incidentally, classified under the controlled medication category).
Well, maybe he knew in advance that you weren’t hospitalized for any actual mental health issue. As such, he wasn’t going to waste a lot of time grilling you but he was still required to ask the standard questions.
As for the prescription, I’d have to say he was either covering his ass (“Hey, I gave the guy a lifetime prescription for anti-psychotics, don’t blame me if he goes crazy some day!”) or perhaps he gets a kickback from the pharmaceutical company for giving out meds like they’re going out of style.
Oh, this is hardly my first experience. My “psychiatric” history could fill textbooks, and they have (for the most part) been uniformly negative. It’s just that this scam is rarely this outright blatant.
Based on what I’ve learned from you in your OP, I recommend a blended treatment for sciatica and dimentia. For the quality of life issues you subconsciously raise, I recommend ankle surgery and a colon detox treatment. Meanwhile, avoid engaging in any sort of sexual activity other than anal mutilation. And say two Hail Marys.
Risperidone is used to treat schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. Someone who’s been on a manic tear for ten days to the point where their body starts destroying its own muscle and skeletal cells and still has to be forcibly hospitalized sounds like a prime candidate for one or the other or maybe both. Anti-psychotics and anti-depressants don’t cure the underlying problem they just help manage the symptoms. So yes, most people really should stay on them indefinitely, if they help.
If you’ve been down this road before, the person who examined you might have had your old records to refer to. If you’ve ever been prescribed lithium the doctor might have thought the more recent drug has advantages. Still if you’re concerned about how fast the doctor diagnosed you, you should definitely discuss the matter with your regular doctor.
That said, I don’t know you so I can’t diagnose you, even if I was qualified to do so, which I’m not, so I’m just speaking generally here, as someone with a lifetime prescription of her own.
You might be on to something – my last 5150 was a LONG time ago (during the Clinton’s first term, in fact) and they probably missed the memo that my diagnosis was changed from schizoaffective disorder to Asperger’s Syndrome last year. Not that they nor I could get my shrink on the phone during the last two weeks. (He is so fucking fired.)
Well, I did say sixteen “Hail Jeremiahs” while listening to my air conditioner tap out in morse code the hidden secret of M(atrix)-Theory last week, does that count?
(Yes, my rare delusions are so much fun, I do tend to get carried away with them…)
It’s not just your friends or a psychiatrist. Anyone can call the police and say you’re a danger to yourself or others. When the cops come to check you out, they make an evaluation about your mental condition. So, in California law, a cop is going to become your psychiatrist, and decide if you are going to be essentially locked up against your will for at least 72 hours. No crime has to be committed.
Generally the cops will err on the side of caution and take the person away, no matter what he or she says or does. So if you want to get someone out of the way for a couple of days–in California at least–call the cops and say that person is suicidal.
Even in the throes of a creative stretch, it’s not normal to go without sleep for 10 days. It’s not normal for a body to start eating away at itself. It’s not normal to have to have your friends commit you because you’re beyond reason. It’s not normal to take a prescription just to see if you’ll get high.
I agree that a diagnosis in 5 minutes is ridiculous. But don’t kid yourself. You have psychiatric issues and you need help.
Not only did you fail to keep the crazy pills from entering your mouth, but also the water supply. Well done. Not that your efforts to sap and impurify all of our precious bodily fluids should take anything away from your indictment of psychiatry.
I’m not arguing with the intervention itself. Indeed, it was an Internet friend who called 911 this time (whereas my family held back, since their “Clinton-Era” intervention was so poorly-timed and utterly devastating.) That’s probably why it went so well…from when the cops showed up until they strapped me to the psych ward bed, I was in the throes of ecstasy, believing I was finally riding away on that spaceship to save me from this hellish earth. Only eighteen hours later did I figure out I was in a medical ICU bed instead (which is unusual; my “trips” have never turned into medical emergencies before.) I was quite disappointed there wasn’t really a starship. How come there’s never a starship?
Bitch, learn to read. I did have psychiatric issues and I did receive help. Why didn’t I seek help earlier? Because once you reach a certain limit, my perception became Perfect Reality – I did not think I had a problem at all. If you ever witnessed or experienced psychosis firsthand, you would know that.
