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spectrumed · 3 years

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7. identity

The aesthetic of suffering, the allure of victimhood, it’s important to acknowledge that to many people, the idea of struggling with mental illness is hot. A common trope in teen dramas is the existence of the sexy bad boy haunted by demons of depression or addiction or some other psychological malady. Women with mental illness tend to be sexualised, less, but then again, women are most typically always sexualised, no matter the state of their mental health. But it’s not just a case of some people finding mental illness to be attractive in others, many see mental illness in themselves as something to take pride in, to celebrate and nurture. To seek out a diagnosis, to infiltrate communities that exist to provide support to those in need, and to declare themselves as being special. Fakers, you could call them. Yes, we’re going to be entering into dangerous grounds here, talking about a potentially incendiary topic that might feed the flames of controversy, but it’s a topic worth discussing. Self-diagnosis. Is self-diagnosis valid or not? Should one self-diagnose? Is it ableism to be against self-diagnosis? Is it ableism to be for self-diagnosis? Is it ableism itself ableist? I don’t know, sweetheart, you are asking a whole bunch of questions and I am hungover… But let’s go on rambling about what it means to be labelled neurodivergent.

Do you have an identity? Do you root for a particular sports team? Do you like a particular kind of music? Do you dance a lot? Are you a dancer? What are you? Simply stating that you’re just “a human” probably won’t do. Sure, it’s correct, but I am also a human, and we could be two very different kinds of people. Your identity should be that certain something that makes you stand apart from the rest, that distinguishes you from the squirming mass of flesh that is the whole of humanity. There are plenty of things about you that do figure in your identity, even though you wish it didn’t. You’re black, you don’t wish to always be “that black guy over there,” but you’ve come to realise that’s just how society views you. Maybe you are a transwoman, and you very eagerly want your friend to stop introducing you as her “trans bestie.” You’re just a woman, you don’t need her to keep labelling you as trans, even though that's what you are. There are many ways we can change our identity through direct personal action. Maybe you could start wearing a hat, and be known as “that hat guy” to the people you work with. Maybe you could embrace a punk aesthetic, looking like young Johnny Rotten stepped into a time machine and got transported to the current day. Actions like these can have a big or small impact on how others see you, but it feels good to be able to make a decision like that and get a response. This is me, this is what I am. I’m the guy who wears bow-ties, don’t I look cool? If only shaping your sense of self always came down to personal decisions like that. You don’t always have a choice.

I’ve lately been watching some Conan O’Brien (American TV talk show host who’s recently decided not to be a TV talk show host) clips. I am sure I don’t need to explain who Conan O’Brien is to my readers, but just in case this is being read by aliens ten-thousand years from now, what I can tell you is that Conan O’Brien is well known for being freakishly tall. Like, really tall. He’s an elongated leprechaun. He’s turned being tall into one of his trademarks. Like many comedians, he’s come to use his corporeal form as a source for levity and fun. While, naturally, the man did not choose to grow as tall as he did, he’s come around to use his height not as a hindrance to success, but rather as an asset. He’s “that tall irish guy on the TV,” and he’s been that person for nearly thirty years. It pays to have some distinguishing feature if you wish to be distinguished. Mr. Joe Average might be perfectly funny and charming, but being an average-looking guy can be wholly detrimental in making a career for yourself as a funnyman. At least get yourself some weird voice, or something. Maybe pretend to be some foreigner and put on a fake accent. As a comedian your job is to be exploited, you wish to be made into a commodity to be sold. People will want to watch your special because of that funny face you pull in the thumbnail. To be different can be financially lucrative.

What’s the best approach in turning something that could be perceived as an abnormal feature into something that is beneficial to you? To make jokes about it? Certainly, if I were to meet a man with a heavily scarred face, I feel there’d likely be a tension between me and him that could be dispelled if that man with the heavily scarred face made some little joke about his appearance, some little quip. “I’m sorry, I cut myself shaving this morning,” would do. The person isn’t obliged to justify his existence to me, he does not have to go out of his way to make me feel less uncomfortable. I am the one in the wrong, certainly. I shouldn’t look at a person with a heavily scarred face and feel uncomfortable, that’s me letting prejudices get in the way, I know that. But, it is what it is. If you’re looking for a practical solution, telling people to simply get over themselves and learn to not be so awkward around folks with physical deformities won’t do. It may be the right thing, but it’s not going to happen any time soon. I am sure that the man with the heavily scarred face isn’t interested in being defined by his heavily scarred face. He's probably sick and tired of that little joke, and wish he didn’t have to make it. But it does the job. Suddenly, you are not looking at something to be feared, the other, you are looking at a person, and someone with a sense of humour. The importance of humour in eradicating stigma, making it possible for the ostracised to enter in society, cannot be understated. Through humour, you can convince most everyone that you are someone worthy of inclusion, because… well, you’re just a funny guy, who doesn’t wanna hang out with you?

For those who have grown up not feeling normal, worrying that there are aspects of your character that others may perceive as unwanted, the yearning to be liked can at times become excruciating. I like to consider myself a funny person, while this blog isn’t intended to be a humorous one, occasionally small little jokes will squirm their way to the top, like worms coming up to the surface during a rainstorm. I am also a cartoonist, and produce a new cartoon every other day. My humour isn’t universal, no good humour ever is universal, but it’s done good in getting some folks to like me. Some people want to be admired, some people want to be feared. I only want to be liked. The one thing I absolutely do not want to be is pitied. I don’t want your pity, I fear your pity.

You’re probably familiar with The Sims, right? It’s a life simulation game, where you control a little digital human, known as a sim, and try to help them make the right decision through life. Each sim has a number of meters that measures their current needs. Hunger, hygiene, energy, if they need to urinate or defecate (though, frankly, the distinction between the two isn’t made in the game, so one can assume that sims are like birds and have just one cloaca that does both,) and so on. One of these meters is for social activities. If a sim hasn’t been social in a while, they go nutty. What’s interesting here, the reason why I bring it up, is that in real life, though we all (to a lesser or greater degree) crave to socialise with others, what kind of socialising you do is of a very big importance. There are a myriad of ways in which one can be social, and depending on your needs at the time, one kind of socialising may not do, whereas another kind of socialising may be just what you need. Do you want to hang out with your pals, cracking jokes and maybe drinking a couple of beers? Do you want to have a serious conversation with your partner about what you wish to accomplish together? Do you want to play with your dog? These different social situations scratch different parts of your mind, and you can’t just substitute one for the other and think that’s all alright. A person may have tonnes of friends, lots of buddies to spend their time with, but they may still desperately be yearning for another kind of social interaction, one that none of their friends can deliver. The human need for company is more complex than how it is depicted in The Sims… which, to be fair, probably shocks nobody. The Sims doesn’t pretend that it’s some highly realistic simulation of real life, it’s a game meant to be played for fun. But what’s important here is the fact that while humans do have a need to be social, how that need is fed changes dramatically on the person, and their conditions. Socialising that may bring comfort to one person, may bring discomfort to another person.

I don’t want you to pity me. I may list my diagnoses, I may tell you of the difficulties that I face in life, but I do not want you to feel sorry for me. I want you to be entertained reading this, I don’t want to make you weep thinking about how cruel life can be. I don’t want you thinking I’m special, or different, because of my diagnoses. I want you to think I’m special and different because of my writing. Sure, this blog is about living with autism spectrum disorder, but I don’t want you reading this blog just because it’s about autism spectrum disorder. I want you to read this because, while it is about a diagnosis you are interested in learning more about, you also find what I write to be well-written and at times, mildly humorous. This blog isn’t my rabid manifesto detailing all the ways my life sucks, and what must be done by society to appease me. Nah, I’m doing relatively fine, don’t feel bad for me, please. I don’t want that kind of attention. I do want attention, I won’t lie and tell you that I don’t have an ego, or that I don’t get pleased seeing people like the things I put out there. I do have a social need, it’s just that being pitied does not do it for me. It doesn’t make me feel good. It makes me feel bad. It makes me feel sad. It really makes me feel mad.

We’re finally getting around to the topic I promised I would discuss. Self-diagnosis. A principal concern people have with self-diagnosis is that people only self-diagnose in order to receive pity from others. The difference between someone like me, who’s got a proper official diagnosis, and someone who is self-diagnosed, is that I don’t want your pity. I don’t want you to fetishise my diagnosis, this thing about me that I did not choose to be. I don’t want special favours just because of my diagnosis, I don’t want to be known as “that cartoonist with autism.” I am autistic, I’ve come to accept that, but I don’t want anyone to introduce me as “their friend who’s on the spectrum.” Some may accuse me of self-loathing, treating being autistic like some bad thing that I am ashamed of. But that’s not it. After all, I did start this blog to discuss what it is like. I just don’t want to be defined by this certain something that lies outside of my control. I don’t want it to be my “thing.” I don’t mind being referred to as a hairy cartoonist, because I am pretty hairy. I don’t want to cut my hair any time soon (especially with this plague going around.) No-one would pity me just because I am hairy. At most they may regard me as a good-for-nothing beatnik, and I’m okay with that. Ideally, I still want to be liked, but anything is better than being pitied. To be pitied is to be robbed of your own agency, your own potential. Sure, it gets you that attention you may be craving, but at the cost of infantilization. Autistic people often struggle with being infantilized by society, to the point where some folks don’t even realise that there are autistic grown-ups in the world. Anyone who would voluntarily seek out a diagnosis just to be pitied, well… it doesn’t sit right with me. It makes me, quite frankly, feel demoralised.

But not all people self-diagnose just to get pity from others, right? For some it’s genuinely their only option, likely living in a barely-functioning country like the United States where receiving psychiatric care is expensive and it’s just not something they can afford. It’s unfair of me to phrase self-diagnosing as just a quest to receive pity, it’s way more complicated than that. And yes, I’d have to agree. To know all the reasons why a person may self-diagnose, you have to go personally ask them. Even if it is possible to highlight a few certain trends, things that they all have in common, it’s bound to be impossible to make this one sweeping generalisation to explain everything. All I am saying is that there absolutely are those people who do self-diagnose with the explicit goal of getting pitied. Whether they are knowingly faking their condition or not, to them, being pigeonholed as a person with autism isn’t at all a negative. It’s their identity. It is how they have chosen to let the world see them. They made a choice. They chose this label. This is why many people who have official diagnoses are sceptical of those who've only got a self-diagnosis. Whether your self-diagnosis is accurate or not, in the end, you chose to identify yourself with it. You made a decision, oblivious of the fact that many people don’t get to make that kind of a decision, and they may bear resentment for how you are turning something they’ve faced ostracization for, into what is potentially on the same level as listening to a certain kind of music, or being a supporter of a sports team. A diagnosis is not something you should choose to have.

There are other things to say about self-diagnosis. First of all, it can be dangerous. Some of the diagnoses I’ve seen people give themselves are really serious, things like personality disorders or psychosis. Psychiatrists are very careful when putting these kinds of labels on people, knowing the harm that it can do. A diagnosis is meant to only be given after careful deliberation, and after long conversations with the patient. Psychiatrists know that reducing a person to a set of symptoms can have detrimental effects to that person’s sense of self. If you’re trying to cling on to a diagnosis, seeing it as a major part of your identity, then that may hamper any attempts you make to become a better person, to improve your mental health. You will feel as if you need to correspond to the exact specifications of the disorder, and you will not allow yourself to grow naturally as a complicated human being, a human being whose internal life is far too vast to be fully rounded up with some psychiatric jargon. There are plenty of things about me that do not line up with the diagnostic criteria for autism spectrum disorder, and guess what, that’s quite good actually. It doesn’t mean that I don’t have autism, I very much do, but I realise that as a person, I am more than just my diagnosis. The diagnosis does not define me, I define the diagnosis. If you self-diagnose, do you comprehend all that you are getting yourself into? Are you going to find yourself in psychological traps that will only serve to worsen your mental health? It’s hard to look at yourself objectively, you could easily be misrepresenting yourself inside your own mind. You may effectively be locking parts of yourself away, making it so you are no longer able to see the full you. You will no longer be all there, you will be segmented in favour of upholding the defining marks of a diagnosis that doesn’t suit you.

Instead of self-diagnosing, try doing a self-assessment. Keep in mind that, while you may have this diagnosis, it’s too early to say for sure. You’re going to need somebody else’s input. You’ll need to sit with it for a while to see if it sticks. Keep an open mind, realise that there’s no easy way to explain exactly who you are, or what you are like. It’s very possible that you will come to realise that you are in fact autistic, or have whatever other diagnosis you may suspect describes you. I, after all, came to the conclusion that I was autistic before I got the diagnosis (though, I was going to therapy at that point, and I was on the way to undergo a neuropsychiatric evaluation.) It’s not bad to try and get to understand yourself, don’t come out of this thinking that self-reflection is only possible with a psychiatrist looming over you, telling you how to think about things. We all need to come to certain conclusions over how we self-identify, and sometimes you need to take mental leaps to explain certain things. Just don’t feel as if your best option is to put a label on yourself that can potentially negatively affect your psychological well-being. If you are truly searching for understanding, if your goal is to find out more about yourself, you should act with caution and concern for what you are doing. If all you are looking for is to have people pity you, then… well… I don’t know what to say, really…

#neurodivergent #neurodiversity #autism spectrum disorder #autism #aspergers #mental health #diagnosis

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mari-beau · 3 years

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PSA: IF YOU HAVE HAD COVID & SEEK MEDICAL FOLLOW-UP, KNOW YOUR PATIENT RIGHTS TO REFUSE UNNECESSARY TESTS

ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE SUBJUGATED TO THE AMERICAN HEALTH SYSTEM

IF YOU HAVE CONCERNS ABOUT YOUR COVID RECOVERY, DO SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION!! IT IS IMPORTANT. YOU COULD HAVE SERIOUS COMPLICATIONS.

BUT DESPITE ALL THE MOCKERY AND DERISION FROM THE MEDICAL FIELD, DO SOME RESEARCH YOURSELF (FROM LEGIT MEDICAL AND SCIENTIFIC INSTITUTION’S WEBSITES/SOURCES)

DOCTORS ARE JUST PEOPLE. AND A LOT OF PEOPLE ARE NOT THAT SMART. (AND YOUR DOCTOR IS NOT NECESSARILY SMARTER OR MORE CAPABLE OF UNDERSTANDING THE VIROLOGY AND BIOLOGY OF YOUR SITUATION THAN YOU ARE). QUESTION THINGS. MAKE THEM EXPLAIN AND JUSTIFY THEIR ACTIONS.

MAKE THEM LISTEN TO YOU!

MY STORY HAS BEEN PLACED BELOW A BREAK

Because TRIGGER WARNING for people with Hospital/Medical PTSD

I tested positive for COVID-19 well over a month ago. I got moderately sick. I did not need to be hospitalized (thankfully). And was able to manage it with cold medicine. It was in my lungs. I had a high fever that cycled on and off for days, cough, shortness of breath, fatigue. By day 11, I was recovered enough and deemed no longer infectious by Public Health’s certified nurses (who know and understand COVID guidance/pathology).

It still took me awhile to completely bounce back. And surprise-surprise, my work is extremely stressful (I work for a local Public Health Department, the ones tasked with doing all of the non-direct patient care pandemic work, such as case investigations, quarantining, helping the public, inspections, answering every single question of every single member of the public). So it was taking me longer to be at normal levels of health. And I was noticing I’d be fine for days, but when I started to get a little worn down from work, I’d start coughing again.

My coworkers were concerned and had one of our nurses encourage me to seek follow-up in case I had a secondary infection as a result of my COVID infection, such as bronchitis or pneumonia. I tried calling the practice where my doctor used to be (living in rural area, the doctors maybe last a year before leaving), but the receptionist said they had no providers until following Monday (I was calling on a Wednesday). She was also baffled by my spiel:

“I tested positive for COVID-19 on November 24. I was cleared by Public Health on Dec. 4. I feel fine most of the time, but when I get tired, I start coughing again. I would like to be checked out to make sure I don’t have bronchitis or pneumonia or lung damage.”

I’m not so sure what’s so difficult about that. I had to prompt her... Should I call back on Monday then to see if I can get checked out?

My coworker used to be practice manager for that group of practices. And she was like WTF? and called over to confirm that they had no provider covering the practice through the New Year’s weekend.

But to be honest, it wouldn’t have mattered if I’d gotten through to them, because come to find out, the whole “Health Systems” conglomerate in our region funnels anyone who has had COVID to the Main Hospital ER. My mother’s doctor, who she asked to follow up because she is older and had concerns about complications, was likewise sent to the “COVID unit” in the hospital, despite the fact that she was no longer infectious and in recovery.

Anyway, the nurse at work encouraged me to get checked out that day. So I called the Urgent Care. Again, the receptionist was baffled by my spiel. As was the nurse she had speak to me. The nurse informed me I had to go to the main hospital.

Fine. I thought. I’d just get my lungs checked out and get it over with. If I had a secondary infection, they could give me a steroid inhaler or stronger cough medicine or something.

WRONG!

I show up to the Hospital, they funnel you through precautions (which is great). I give my spiel to the receptionist, adding on how I tried my primary care and urgent care, and they told me I had to come here. They give me to intake person, who asks me the standard questions and checks my vitals.

My heartrate is high.

I have panic attacks in hospitals. I can’t even visit people in the hospital. It’s not a conscious issue. And it’s completely outside of my control. I can attempt to manage with anxiety coping mechanisms, but to be honest it doesn’t work.

I inform the intake nurse/doctor/whoever that my stress levels have been high from work, specifically Monday I was in the call center getting verbally abused by our wonderful community members all day long. And that I have panic attacks in hospitals. And was likely in early stages of panic attack. He replied to me that was on Monday and it’s Wednesday (someone who had no clue how anxiety works). And I of course sounded perfectly calm then, because part of how I cope is trying to keep my shit together and not freak out.

They admit me for having a high heart rate. (BECUASE DOCTORS DON”T LISTEN, ESPECIALLY TO WOMEN).

SO, SUMMARY SO FAR: I HAVE BEEN ADMITTED TO THE HOSPITAL FOR HAVING PANIC ATTACKS IN THE HOSPITAL WHEN I JUST WANTED SOMEONE TO CHECK MY LUNGS.

They stick me in a negative pressure COVID room because I had COVID a month ago (and they don’t seem to understand I am no longer infectious, or how viruses work; yes, some people remain very sick and infectious longer; I meet all the criteria of no longer being infectious).

I have to change into hospital gown, etc. Doctor checks my lungs. Everything sounds fine. My 02 stats are 100%.

I SHOULD HAVE BEEN RELEASED AT THIS POINT. I SHOULD HAVE REFUSED ALL FURTHER PROCEDURES AND TESTS. BUT I HAVE HOSPITAL-INDUCED ANXIETY AND AM IN NO STATE OF MIND TO QUESTION ANYTHING BECAUSE I’M BARELY KEEPING MY SHIT TOGETHER. NO WONDER I’M FUCKING TACHYCARDIC.

Next up is the nurses, come to hook me up to the heart monitor and EKG.

AND DO THE ONE OTHER THING THAT CAN SEND ME INTO A FULL ANXIETY ATTACK.

They ignore me when I tell them they need to use a pediatric needle on my veins. All of my mom’s family has small, hard to find, fragile veins. THEY BLOW OUT TWO OF MY VEINS IN ONE ARM WHILE A LAB PERSON IS TRYING TO DRAW BLOOD OUT OF MY OTHER ARM.

I AM FINE WITH VACCINES/SHOTS. AND IF THEY CAN GET A NEEDLE IN AND DRAW BLOOD QUICK, I CAN KEEP MY SHIT TOGETHER. I HAVE NO CONSCIOUS FEAR OF NEEDLES OR BLOOD. BUT IF THEY MESS AROUND WITH MY ARMS TOO LONG, IT SENDS ME INTO FULL HYPERVENTILATING, CRYING HYSTERICALLY, LEG THRASHING PANIC ATTACK.

ALL THE WHILE, I’M APOLOGIZING TO THEM. AND HATING MYSELF FOR MY REACTION.

The nurse keeps trying to comfort me as she blows out another vein in my arm for an IV I DID NOT NEED. I keep saying “I’m sorry. It’s stupid. It’s so stupid I get like this.” As I’m sobbing and hyperventilating.

The nurse gives up after blowing out several veins in my arm when doing the saline wash. (This does not pardon me, but only buys me a reprieve).

Lab Guy exits with some blood he managed to get out of one of my arms.

I have been repeatedly questioned by doctors and nurses so far about having had another COVID test. I tell them no, since I can test positive for up to 3 months afterwards, it’s quite literally pointless.

THEY GIVE ME ANOTHER COVID TEST.

My first one when I was actually sick, was just mildly uncomfortable. THIS TIME THEY MANAGE TO GIVE A PRETTY SPECTACTULAR BLOODY NOSE. AND PROMPTLY LEAVE THE ROOM AS I CALL ‘MY NOSE IS BLEEDING’ AFTER THEM.

I HAVE TO USE THE MASK I WORE IN TO TRY TO STAUNCH THE NOSEBLEED.

I THINK IT WAS HERE I HAD MY FULL ON PANIC ATTACK. IF YOU HAVE THEM, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN BY FULL-ON. I WAS ALONE. (WHICH I PREFER BECAUSE THEY EMBARRASS ME).

A different nurse finally comes back for some other reason (I don’t remember now). I ask her from some tissues. She hands me some paper towels. She leaves. She returns, gives me a washcloth to clean all the blood off my face and neck. Another nurse is with her.

ROUND TWO OF DRAWING BLOOD & IV ATTEMPT

These ones do better. But I am calmer having just had the full-on panic attack. They have to use veins in my biceps to draw the blood. And finally get an IV in. (Mind you, it’s an IV I really didn’t need). They give me a bag of fluids and some anti-anxiety/sedative to try to bring my heart rate down (letting me go home would’ve worked far better).

They’ve already done the EKG. They put me through a CT scan and echocardiogram. And finally a chest x-ray (which would’ve been in the more necessary scope of treatment/evaluation for my complaint/concern about residual lung damage).

There’s a good wait time in between these.

I was already hydrated. I drink a lot of water. And so I had to pee very badly.

Because, guess what the COVID test came back positive and they’ve stuck the official notice on the negative pressure COVID room door, I have to use the little commode chair thing in the room. The nurse puts a little bedpan/measuring catch thingy in it. She takes some of my urine to test (so yet another unnecessary test).

They give me another bag of fluids. Which makes me have to pee very badly again. I try to call a nurse. My bladder’s about explode. But I’m hooked up to machines and not sure if I’m allowed to leave the hospital bed. She glances in at me. Tells me it’s okay to go.

I fill up the little bedpan.

I will have to pee very badly again by the end of this ordeal, and have more than half a mind to go pee/overflow the bedpan into the rest of the ‘commode’.

But finally whatever doctor assigned to me comes back, says everything is fine and I can be released.

Mind you, my heartrate has remained low 100s for hours and hours (a little high for me, but I was in a fucking hospital and having panic attacks and my anxiety was still quite high).

I wait another half an hour for a nurse to come and disconnect me from everything and do a ‘verbal’ discharge.

SO MANY TIMES I HAD WANTED TO YANK EVERYTHING OFF ME AND LEAVE. I NOW WISH I HAD DONE PRECISELY THAT.

My parents showed up and were waiting for me in the parking lot to drive me home and drive my truck home. My mom said it looked like I had been through a war. She’d never seen me look so terrible.

I went into work that morning feeling worn down from work. And I was coughing a little. I came out of the hospital 8 hours later feeling the worst I have in my life. Worse than when I was feverish and struggling to breath from COVID infection.

The public health nurses at my workplace advised me to file a complaint against the hospital. They agreed/informed me that what the hospital did was medically unnecessary.

I HAVE BRUISES ALL UP AND DOWN MY ARMS. I HAVE BURST CAPILLARIES UNDER MY EYES AND ACROSS MY CHEEKS FROM CRYING SO HARD. I HAVE WOKEN UP EVERY MORNING SINCE WITH A TIGHT KNOT OF ANXIETY IN MY CHEST. MY HEART RATE (WHICH I CHECK WITH A PULSE OXIMETER) HAS NOT RETURNED TO ITS NORMAL LOWER LEVELS. IT HAS BEEN FIVE DAYS.

SUMMARY:

I HAD COVID AND RECOVERD. I WAS CONCERNED ABOUT POSSIBLE COMPLICATIONS SUCH AS BRONCHITIS, PNEUMONIA OR LUNG DAMAGE BECAUSE I HAVE A RECCURRING SLIGHT COUGH.

NO HEALTH CARE PROVIDERS UNDER THE CONGLOMERATE THAT IS OUR ONLY CHOICE OF MEDICAL CARE IN OUR REGION WILL SEE ANYONE WHO HAS HAD COVID. THEY SEND THEM ALL DIRECTLY TO THE MAIN HOSPITAL ER COVID UNIT TO DO A SLEW OF UNNECESSARY TESTS AND RACK UP THE HOPISTAL BILL.

I WENT TO GET A SLIGHT COUGH CHECKED OUT. INSTEAD I WAS SUBJECTED TO UNNECESSARY TESTS AND TREATMENT JUST TO BE TOLD I AM IN FACT PERFECTLY FINE. AND NOW I HAVE TEXTBOOK PTSD.

FUCK YOU, AMERICAN HEALTH CARE SYSTEM.

**EXTRA REMINDER TO SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION AND FOLLOW-UP IF YOU HAVE HAD COVID AND ARE CONCERNED. JUST REMEMBER YOU HAVE RIGHTS AND OUR HEALTH CARE SYSTEM’S MAIN FOCUS IS MAKING MONEY**

#american health care #covid-19 #coronavirus recovery #hospital ptsd #panic attacks #anxiety #tw: anxiety

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