What Caused and Is the Effect of Our PTSD

What does Post-Traumatic (Hospitalization) Stress Disorder (PTSD) feel like?  It feels like helplessness, hopelessness, rage, and guilt.  To be victimized by people that were supposed to be compassionate, caring, trustworthy, skilled, and etc. is devastating beyond any words or imagination.  If a total stranger were to victimize me or my husband, we would have an easier time reconciling their actions.  But to be victimized by medical people during one of times of greatest time of pain and suffering, the results are just devastating.  How could be people who are being paid to help commit such atrocities? 

My husband keeps it in a little too much as he does not want to burden me with his suffering.  Sometimes, though, he breaks down.  It is heartbreaking to hear him tell his story.  He feels very guilty that he had the heart attack which is what lead to the abuse.   He didn’t know that at the time he was suffering abuse that I too was suffering abuse in another form.  He has said that he wished the heart attack had killed him outright at home so all of this hospital abuse could have been avoided and I wouldn’t had to suffer their abuse.   He has said if he had only known.

It is not that either of us has not been in the hospital before as we have been.  He is a prostate cancer survivor so he has had intimate care level before given by female nurses/techs.  He has had an operation to which he fully gave consent to and the needed care afterwards.  The hospital he was at allowed me to be present during his pre-op, PACU, and transfer to his patient room procedure.  They made it clear they welcomed me to spend the night with him.  In fact, they encouraged it and made me feel welcomed.   When I was hospitalized, my husband was present.  He spent the night as they told him he was welcomed.  Both of us have had care by opposite sex caregivers who have acted appropriately and with compassion.  Both of us have had procedures done in the past with actual informed consent being given. 

How the care is delivered is the defining difference.  At the college hospital, we thought his care was being delivered in a compassionate and trustworthy manner.  We thought they were writing down his issues with painkillers and his instructions about having no Versed or benzos.  We didn’t know they were, in fact, ignoring very crucial information as to the negative side effects these medicines cause especially given that at that time, he had just had a heart attack.  We never dreamed their desire for him to have these medicines would overwhelm the need not to put him in a direr medical situation.  It never entered our minds they would ignore a man who had just had a heart attack who told them that painkillers and especially Versed/benzos cause his blood pressure to raise/lower, his breathing to decrease/increase, to fully incapacitate him, make him nausea, and cause him to remain in that state for an extended period of time.  We thought having a heart attack would make them proceed with extreme caution in giving him drugs which could make his condition deteriorate.   We did not know that the medical air ambulance would commit assault and battery on him to drug him with fentanyl when he was not actually in pain and did not consent to fentanyl.  We did not even consider that any of these medical “professionals” would lie or omit items to cover their asses.  We had put our trust in them and they failed us as we later found out. 

At Rancidcan, we did not know he would arrive having been assaulted by the air ambulance team in a drugged manner.  We did not know that I would not be allowed to see him or be part of the medical decision making effort.  We did not know that he would not be allowed to be part of the medical decision making effort.  We did not know that one or both of the medical entities had already made decisions as to what was going to happen to him.  We did not know that College Hospital had sent papers to Rancidcan , a Catholic hospital on record opposing LGBT issues, stating my husband had a husband—me his totally female wife of over 30 years.  We did not know that because of the fentanyl, my husband would be rendered incapable to defend himself against what was about to happen. 

Although all medical records state my husband was alert to person, place, and event he does not remember them ever talking to him about what they were going to do.  If they asked him he knew why he was there, he would have responded with a yes as he thought he was there for them to go over what College Hospital had done and maybe do a more thorough evaluation.  He never dreamed that he was there to have an invasive procedure done with any consultation with him or me.  We both thought they were going to explain his options of what they could do and we together, he and I, would decide.   Informed Consent cannot be given when a person is naked; lying on the table where the procedure is performed while they are being prepped for the procedure, and/or when drugged (4mg morphine and 100mcg fentanyl).  That is called being coerced.  Informed Consent was not given as neither of us remembers it being done at either hospital.  They, in fact, knew it had not been done.  They entered into their computer system as being done but 5 minutes later 2 of the cath. lab nurses signed it saying he had given verbal consent.  He disagrees.  In any case, consent cannot be coerced but in this case, they did not give it as there are many points he would have disagreed with if consent had been verbally explained not mention he would not have agreed to have something as major as this done without talking with me.  He would have never agreed to pictures being taken during any procedure, he wouldn’t have agreed to spectators, students, sales representatives being present, he wouldn’t have agreed to versed or any memory altering drug, he wouldn’t have agreed for his information to be used other than for purposes dictated by government or insurance, and he would have questioned the risks, radiation and side effects.  These are the standard things he would have had issues with and would have challenged.  However, they are no challenges to these items listed on the consent form they signed.  Furthermore, due to the drugs, he was not legally capable of giving consent.  Ethically, he was not able to give consent.  Physically and mentality, he was incapable of giving consent due to the drugs.  There is no way they could have gone through the 3-page consent form and a severely drugged man have understood it.  There is no way they could have given him all the risks and rx medication risks like they stated.  There wasn’t time and he even so, he wouldn’t agreed.  They lied about consent to force him to have a procedure which is a complete money making venture to them to around the tune of $300,000.  It is no wonder they lie/coerce having such a large financial incentive–easy victim, easy money.  The ethical aspect of medical people going rogue and abusive is simply mind-blowing. 

He feels violated beyond imagination they performed a procedure on him that he did not want even to this day.  The consequences of this procedure are devastating.  He now has to live with two foreign pieces of mental in him that continuously remind him and me of what they done.  These stents also cause permanent damage to his arteries by making them constantly sending plaque to the area to heal where the metal is chafing the artery.  That is why he must forever take medicine because this is a forever side effect.  Eventually, the plaque will build up there again.  The medicine also has unacceptable side effects.  The cure was not a cure but actually give him additional conditions which are just as bad as the original heart attack.

Although we both feel guilty and victimized by putting our trust in College Hospital and the air ambulance service, what follows is where the majority of our issues arise.  Having said this, if the air ambulance had not committed assault and battery on him by giving him the fentanyl, he would have been capable of defending himself and making sure that things did not happen as they actually did.  By giving him fentanyl, they in essence, made him trapped inside of his mind thus allowing Rancidcan the freedom to abuse and violate.  How he felt after the fentanyl is similar to what a stroke victim may feel as they are aware of what is going on but unable to verbalize or turn their thoughts into actions.  He was also horrified, scared, humiliated, and alone.  He felt as if he didn’t matter or have any say.  He felt powerless.  They made him feel like he was nothing—didn’t matter—an object.  The heart attack was scary but he thought he was going to okay and he had dealt with cancer in the past so he knew he could deal with a heart attack.  He wasn’t prepared to deal with the standard of care.

My guilt comes from knowing that he was stripped naked by 4 females in a room full of others such as the air ambulance people, registry clerk, and whoever else was present.  This was done against his will and without permission.  Because of what they done and how they did it, they demonstrated they had no respect for my husband as a human who had a life.  They cared nothing that in their disrespect and disregard of his basic right to freedom of choice and dignity, they have endangered his overall health.  They cared nothing about making sure what they did caused no future harm.  They probably never have considered their actions to be as harmful as physically harming a person.  Because of their actions, he lives everyday with the stress of their actions deeply stamped in his mind.  His dealings with all medical providers are now stressful and he distrusts them immensely.  The literature they give to heart attack survivors is to make their lives stress free but that is now impossible because medical people add nothing but stress to his life not to mention for me too. 

He remembers feeling horrified that they stripped him without his permission and left him naked without a gown or blanket.  They acted as though he was not human.  They wadded his clothes into a pink haz-mat bag for some strange reason as they were not soiled.  They treated his clothes as trash just as they treated him as trash—not worth common using common respect or protecting his dignity.  Not worth letting him decide his treatment but rather a chance to make money and for them to be totally in control over a man.  It must have really have given them a thrill to abuse an older, critically male.  They probably do this as payback for the bad attitudes of the male doctors.  It must make them feel better to abuse defenseless males.  He doesn’t remember any of those cold-hearted women speaking to him in a reassuring manner.  He remembers wanting to be covered up and also being cold and scared.  He didn’t know what they were doing and why he needed to be naked.  It was his chest where his heart is—it is not in his genital region.  He remembers them shaving him although he is not hairy and they didn’t say why it was being done as he remembers wondering why they were shaving him.  He remembers hearing them talking and laughing amongst themselves but no one communicated to him.  He remembers hearing them talk about sending a chaplain to me.  He remembers thinking is he that bad or is he in the process of dying and please do not send a chaplain to me but they had rendered him incapable of vocalizing his thoughts.  The fentanyl left him able to respond to their questions but unable to vocalize his own thoughts.  He remembers them inserting 2 more IVs into him even though he already had 2 in him from College Hospital that were still working when he arrived at Rancidcan.  (They make no note of adding these 2 IVs.)  He remembers how cold the room was as he was lying there totally exposed.  He felt violated.  He felt they did not respect his right to personal dignity.  He just wanted it to end.  He said he remembers wanting to see me so he would know everything would be okay.  He wondered if I had agreed to something he didn’t know about and if what was happening to him was the result.  He wondered what they were doing to him.  He wanted me to protect him from them and he wondered why I hadn’t come in to see him.

He remembers seeing all the equipment and wondering what it is all for and what are they going to do with him as he hadn’t talked to me yet so we could decide.  He remembers them finally putting the drapes over him.  He remembers seeing things on the monitors.  He remembers being told he is going to feel pressure.  He remembers the pressure actually felt as if he had been ran over by a semi and it was sitting on him.   He remembers hearing them talk and laugh during whatever they were doing to him.  He remembers being scared that he didn’t know what was happening and that nobody seemed to care.  He remembers being very cold.  He remembers the coldness eventually made him start shivering/trembling uncontrollably.  He remembers being scared and feeling alone. 

He remembers after whatever they were doing to him that he was still laying on the table that they air ambulance personnel had placed him on.  He remembers having the drapes removed and once again he was laying there naked, exposed, and cold.  (Nakedness is a method of torture used to humiliate and control prisoners.)  He remembers a female voice telling him they were going to suture and it would hurt.  He said he briefly wondered what they needed to suture before he felt the extreme, horrible pain of the suturing (which upon reading his medical records, we found they had chosen not to use any numbing agent).  He received suturing in 3 different areas.  He wondered why they wanted to hurt him so badly.  He said he wanted to leave and see me.  He just wanted them to leave him alone.  He wanted to be covered up and not be exposed.  But this was not the end to the abuse/torture he would have to suffer at the hands of a religious hospital’s employees.

To add to his and my misery, pain, and guilt—I was being put through my own form of torture.  Even though I arrived at Rancidcan before they started their procedure on him, they did not consult with me.  In fact, after I asked for him at the ER desk, I was made to wait an extremely long take before they would acknowledge he was even at the hospital.  They made me believe he had died.  They said they couldn’t find record of him being admitted.  Probably because he was being processed at that time I was inquiring about him.  They told me to stand aside to an area about 10 feet away for the desk.  Eventually about much whispering another person arrived at the desk and after more whispering, one of the women yelled over to the area where my son and I were standing that “a chaplain would come and take us to where he was.”  Everyone in the ER waiting got silent and just looked at us.  I know they too thought whoever we were there for had died.  We were in shock.  When he had left with the air ambulance, he had been stabilized and was in no pain.  How could he have died?  I was in complete and utter shock—numbed.  After waiting about another 15 minutes, a sober looking man in a brown suit arrived.  As we were walking away from that area of onlookers, I asked the chaplain where he was taking us.  He said to the cath lab waiting room.  That made sense as College Hospital said that might be one of the possibilities that we would need to consider.  It didn’t occur to me that he might be already having a procedure as I knew that he would want to discuss it with me before he would agree to anything.  That is the way our marriage works.    Once we got back there, the chaplain sat down next to our son.  I could see that having the chaplain there agitated my son and it did me too as we could not talk to each other.  I wanted to talk to my son before I would be called back to consult with my husband as to what his best course of treatment would be.  I eventually told the chaplain very politely that we didn’t need him to stay.  He said it was his job.  I again told him we didn’t need him to stay.  He refused to leave.  I was upset but I could see my son was really upset so I decided not to make a scene with the chaplain as it would not have went well.  I was puzzled by why it was taking so long to see my husband but I didn’t want the chaplain involved in our business as he was an unwanted presence.  Another form of recognized torture is making the family wait for long periods without any information.

Eventually, his device sounded.  He answered it, got up, put it on speaker phone, and walked into a public hallway.  As he was walking away, I could hear the person at the other end of the line (I assume the cath lab) asking him if he was with the family of First Last Name.  They then proceeded into a conversation with him that took a few minutes.  After talking with whomever, he came back and said my husband was still back in the cath lab.  This scenario happened again and it played out the same way.  The third time it happened, he said he would take us to talk with the doctor.  Finally, I thought.

As we were entering the doctor consultation room, I turned to the chaplain (thinking finally I could be rid of him), that I did not want him in the room and he should leave.  Again, he refused and entered the room to hear even more of my husband’s private, personal health information that we did think he had any right to and did not want privy to having.  He just sat there while the doctor was talking.  I was so angry that I was numb.  I couldn’t imagine why we were being punished by that man’s presence. 

The doctor finally entered.  I don’t know if his behavior was due to his background but he certainly was rude and acted as if he didn’t want to be bothered with giving this interview with a woman.  In fact, he said he was tired and since it was a Saturday night, he would have rather been home.  He went to say that he had done a procedure on my husband.  I was floored.  He said he had put 2 stents in him and that he had cardiogenic shock and was critically ill.  (Actually what this doctor stated was cardiogenic shock does not meet the definition of cardiogenic but rather it fits into what we stated would happen when he takes painkillers or versed.  By the time he had this shock, he had received 4 mg morphine, 175 mcg of fentanyl and 2 mg of versed.  It was a wonder he was still breathing.  They could have killed him with their reckless and negligence.)  He then said he had a video to show but was unable to work the computer.  I was hoping his lack of technical skill wasn’t also reflected in the procedure he had just done on my husband.    He said he was tired and did I really need to see the video and did I have any questions.   Since the intruder was present, the doctor was rude and uncaring, and since I was numbed to my very core, I simply said no.  What in the world was going on?   Had my husband given his consent and why?  That was totally out of character for him.  The intruder then said they would be wheeling my husband out so we could look at him before they took him to a room.

About 10 minutes later, two women came out with him on a gurney.  At first look, I could tell my husband was heavily drugged.  Normally, he would have reached for my hand.  He did not.  The thing that I remember most about this parading of the prisoner routine that most captors do is the expression on the faces of these two women.  The shorter, fatter one had an expression of contempt, of hatefulness, and general bad will that completely took me aback.  (I have since done some investigative work and her social media page shows a picture of a woman that looks like a streetwalker out of a 70’2 movie with the grotesque make-up.  She is truly a scary looking creature for someone to see while they are completely vulnerable and under her control.)With her hostile look, I didn’t dare look at the other as intently but I could see her mean expression.  I just felt like collapsing and crying on the floor.  All I could think about was my poor husband having to have them to care for him.  It was no wonder he felt so scared.  Having to look at them would have scared me too. I felt so upset and powerless.  They stood there talking to themselves while the intruder hung at our side.  I could tell they had thrown a gown on my husband as it was not really on him.  He barely acknowledged our presence.  I really dislike this parading of the prisoner by the captives so this encounter as it was not private only lasted a couple of seconds.  This ritual is barbaric as is when the doctor comes down off of his throne to talk to the poor peasant.  How thrilled we should be to have him grace us with his godlike attitude like he performs some miracle instead of merely doing a job he is being paid to do.  They are not miracle workers nor do they really care at least not in this case.  Rather I think they would have been happier if he had died before he was able to disrupt their Saturday night.  At least, this is the impression those cold-hearted B_tches and that B_stard gave.  The doctor gave a semi apology for any harm he and the cath lab heifers may have done but we do not accept his apology as the harm has been done and words mean nothing.  Their actions, on the other hand, have made a lasting impression.

The intruder told us he would lead us to the waiting room upstairs as neither my son nor I apparently had enough education to read signs and find our way there.  Once there, the intruder said he was leaving for a while but would return.  He never did.  He said before he left that it would take less than 30 minutes for the secret ceremony that happens when captors settle prisoners into their cell and then they would allow us to see him.  At this time, it felt like the intruder was our warden and that the hospital was my husband’s captors. 

Over two hours later and without any word, (isolation is a method that is used as torture), we were still waiting.  I was completely and probably irreversibly numbed by this point.  I was at or maybe I had had my breaking point.  My blood pressure was sky-high and my type 1 diabetic son’s glucose levels had risen during the evening to a scary point.  (It is ironic that one quack doctor tried to make my husband a diabetic as his blood glucose level had been tested and it was high.  However, that doctor was a graduate of a foreign school of dentistry and apparently they did not teach them that during extremely stressful situations like having a heart attack, stress, and having ate a high carb meal that was not digested properly as it was interrupted by the heart, like giving someone a blood sugar test when they have not fasted is likely to result in high blood glucose levels.  I am not a doctor but even I know this.  In fact, because of their actions I was watching my son struggle with his blood sugar levels rising because of their torture of us.  This quack made my husband’s insurance pay $90—you can buy over 100 of the better strips for that amount– for every test strip they used and ordered insulin for him to take while in the hospital.  That quack is should not be able to practice his quackery on humans.)  Finally, he said he was going to nab the next person he heard coming or going.  He had had enough.  A few minutes later, he sprung to his feet so fast I didn’t know it until he had actually collared someone.

As I was getting up, before he could identify himself or what he wanted, the nurse (with dark brown hair whom we later found out was the one asking stupid questions) started laughing as she was saying, “I was coming to get you.  I just came from his room.” (How did she know who he/we were?)  Still laughing, she went on to say, “I am not his nurse.  I was just helping his nurse as she had trouble hooking up his machines.  She was overwhelmed and had a room full of people helping her.  I will let you in these doors and his is the last room on the left.”  With that she buzzed us in and left, still laughing.  At this point, I was so relieved to find out he was still alive that I didn’t question her about the laughter but was puzzled by it.  However, my puzzlement shouldn’t have lasted long after what I was about to witness but with all the mental traps that had been used on me that evening, I wasn’t alert at that time to what I was about to witness. 

I will never forget what I saw when I entered the room.  I will never forgive myself for being so mentality drained and numbed that I did not spring into action.  NEVER WILL I FORGIVE MYSELF. 

My husband’s room was directly in line with the double doors we had been sitting by in the waiting room with our backs toward.  We had seen and heard many people going in and out of those doors but we didn’t know it was for him.  We didn’t know from those doors you could see into his room.

As we started to enter the room and it had a long entrance, my son said he had forgotten his diabetic supplies consisting of his insulin, meter, and needles.  I told him to hurry and find it before someone else did.  He left so I entered the room alone.  What I saw will forever be burned into my memory.  I know now what I witnessed.  Then I was just too numb to it to register through everything that I had endured.

Once I was to the main part of the room, I could see this nurse with long, blond hair that was pulled back.  (I should say bleached blond hair that resembled straw.  On her social media sites, besides drinking being her favorite hobby, she fancies herself to be a Southern Belle with movie star looks.).  She was turned towards a computer that she was working on.  My husband had his eyes closed laying on the bed.  That in itself was not odd.  What is forever burned into my mind is that he was laying there with his gown above his navel and his blanket around his knees.  As I said the nurse was working on the computer slightly turned at an angle but as I entered she turned with a laugh/smile on her face until she must have realized I wasn’t whom she had expected.  She quickly recovered and told me I had to leave as she then pulled up his blanket.  My husband awoken as I was asking her why I needed to leave since I was his wife.  She had a questioning look on her face and again asked me who I was to which I replied I was his wife.  She asked me for my name.  I told her I was Mrs. Last Name.  She said she needed my first name.  I looked at my husband and he had that look of “oh, no” because even in his fog he knows I do not like for medical people to assume they have the right to call me by my first name, so I told her without making a fuss.  She then told me to spell it.  All the time she was looking at her computer screen to try to verify who I was.  Up to this point, the Catholic hospital thought they were dealing with a gay man with a husband.  Her computer screen must have verified my name spelling (as the medical records listed me as a husband but had my first name spelled correctly).  She started laughing again and said she didn’t know how to examine him without exposing him.  She then started to laugh harder and exclaimed that she had figured it out by pulling his blanket up between his legs to cover his penis.  It didn’t strike me until the next day how her behavior was so odd.  For one time, was she a new nurse that never had been involved in patient care?  If so, what was she doing in a cardiac critical care unit?  Furthermore, did she not go to nursing school where they teach patient care and take the oath of protecting patient dignity?  Would not have the better solution been to pull his gown down between his legs so the blanket could have been lifted to view one side or the other?  I now know it was her plan to go back to exposing him once I left.  He verified that she did.  He was still very drugged and unable to respond unless prompted.  He was afraid to say anything as he knew he was defenseless against them.  He didn’t know what had happened but he knew something had.  He really had no idea that he had had a major invasive procedure done and the result would affect the rest of his life. 

As my son entered, she was saying she had had trouble hooking up his machines (the ones needed to take stress off his heart) and the room had been full of techs.  It did not occur to me at that time that she had left my husband exposed to the room full of techs, the person who draws blood, and possibly the chaplain intruder.  She had admitted she didn’t know how not to expose him.  Later, after research, I have found out she has been a nurse for over ten years.  So in all the ten year period, she didn’t know how not to exposed a patient’s genitalia for prolonged periods of time?  Once we received the medical records, it became evident that during this over 2 hours period, she had made my husband use the urinal and performed perineal care in front of a room full of people.  He remembers this now.  He feels violated and sexually abused by this monster’s behavior.  This monster nurse had completely violated my husband’s right to personal dignity that is guaranteed by federally mandated guidelines and the hospital’s Patient Bill of Rights.  She also violated her oath of nursing to preserve a patient’s dignity.  She willfully and maliciously violated him to the point of sexual abuse.  Not only did she do it with a room full of people while he was still heavily under the influence of fentanyl and versed (the one he refused), but what was she and the laughing nurse doing alone in the room with my drugged and vulnerable husband?  What was so funny in the cardiac critical care room of a drugged man that lasted for hours?  This is not a case of being embarrassed because a female nurse will see or has seen Little Willy.  It is a case of a monster nurse sexually harassing a male patient who has been rendered vulnerable and defenseless by drugs, an illness, and a medical procedure. 

We only stayed for a few minutes as the nurse told us we were outside of visiting hours.  She never mentioned that I could have stayed overnight with him.  She never gave us any information except we would need a patient code to talk with my husband.  She said if I lost the number she wrote down, we would not be allowed to have contact with him.   My husband was not responsive unless prompted and I could tell he was heavily drugged.  When I asked if he was sleepy he said no but he kept his eyes closed as if he was in another universe.  Since the nurse didn’t seem to want us there and my husband was unresponsive and needed rest, we left.  My son was physically unable at that time to drive home alone as his blood sugar levels were through the roof.  He was so confused he said maybe he should get a coke for energy.  He hasn’t had a coke in the 3 years since he was diagnosed as a type 1 diabetic.  We were there about ten minutes around 4am and stayed a number of hours visiting with him.  The nurse lied and falsified my husband’s medical records saying we were there around 3am and that she had educated us about all aspects of his treatment and care.  This nurse proved she was a liar.  What else is or was she capable of?  What was wrong with her?  Does she like to sexually abuse vulnerable male patients?  Is she one the over 20% of medical workers with an addiction problem?  Or was it just my husband because of this “gay” label that she and the others decided to abuse?  

My husband remembers being transferred into the room from the gurney.  The cath. lab had just thrown a gown over him.  When the blond nurse saw in CCU saw the gown, her first priority became changing the gown.  She said it was the wrong gown for the CCU area.  So her first priority was not to hook up his life saving equipment but to change his gown.  However, during transfer from gurney to the bed, whether the gown fell off on its own or rather the blond nurse helped it off, the gown fell off leaving him once again totally exposed to the females nurses without any thought to his personal dignity.  They did not cover him up as the blond nurse went off in search of the “correct” gown.  After all, having a gown on from the cath lab of the same hospital is a national emergency situation.   My husband remembers being exposed almost constantly during the time he spent with this monster molester nurse.  He remembers the room full of people and being made to urinate in front of them and having her clean him up in front of them.  He was humiliated beyond endurance.  He remembers laying there exposed while the laughing nurse asked him questions like was he sexually abused.  Not by me but by them as it turns out.  Still naked, have you travelled outside of this country.  What color is your poop?  The abuse inflicted was incredible and almost unbelievable.  Why was wrong with this hospital.  Why do they allow their nurses to sexually abuse their patients?  Why do they drug their patients?  Why do they isolate their patients?  Why do they act in such a secretive manner?  Why do they make patients prisoners and control them?  Why are they so horrible? 

However, the abuse did not stop once I left.  The blond nurse let him be in pain from the groin wounds and suturing.  She let him become nauseated to the point of vomiting even though he had been prescribed a drug to stop the nausea.  He remembers throwing up down his left side when he was lying almost flat.  He remembers her once again stripping off his gown and leaving him exposed when she cleaned him up and changed his bed.  His genital region should have been covered but she certainly didn’t view him as a human being that had the right to be treated with dignity and she had the responsibility to protect and to treat him with dignity.  She truly is a horrible and despicable person.  He never again wants any female nursing/tech to be involved where he may have genital exposure and really that mean almost never because he was expected this to happen.  This never was an issue in the past but now it is one that is forever a lasting effect of his mistreatment.  He will refuse care by any female where genital exposure is done as he suffered sexual abuse at the hands of females during this hospitalization.

Once this nurse was off duty, no more sexual abuse happened.  That doesn’t mean that Rancidcan was more competent or compassionate because they weren’t.  It just means he was able to defend himself.  His medical records are full of their mistakes like one of the cath lab heifers who was the recorder of events even though she may no longer have a valid alcohol license may have a drinking issue as she could not remember what procedure they had inflicted upon him 2 minutes after it officially ended.  He also had a couple of male nurses who seemed to willing to protect his personal dignity and acted more compassionately.  He said although the effects of the drugs made his mind foggy for a week afterwards, his main goal was to get out of that hospital any way he could.  I told him about what had happened to me but at that time he couldn’t process it and said he needed to concentrate on his escape from that hellhole.  He knew though what I had suffered and told me not to be there as he was worried about the harm they had done.  I in turn was worried about the harm they had done to him.   It wasn’t until he came home that we realized what had happened to both of us.  It became clearer over time with him remembering and slowly being able to finally talk about what he endured.  I was able to entirely share with him what I endured.  Both of us have an incredible amount of guilt for what the other has been through.  Neither of us at this time will seek hospital care again if it means being an inpatient prisoner.

No one really knows the damage something like this causes unless you have suffered torture and abuse especially from someone or an institution that is supposed to protect you.  I now have a better understanding of what rape victims suffer—the control of the abuser that affects their very soul and how personal that violation is.  I now better understand the boys who have been molested by Catholic priests whom supposedly represent all that is good.  It rips your very being into shreds.  It makes you question everything.  It makes you trust no one.

My husband, at this time, will not agree to any more emergency type care.  He does not trust ambulance personnel nor does he trust hospitals.  He will not have anything done medically if I cannot be present without him.  He no longer will go anywhere if I am not with him.  He does not want to become their victim again.  He has issues falling asleep and staying asleep.  Whether these issues are from the long term side effects of versed (it can change how the brain functions and responds to sleep patterns forever), we don’t know.  He only has light sleep whereas before his sleep pattern was much deeper.  When he does fall asleep, he has nightmares about what happened.  He gets very quiet at times.  He thinks about their abuse of him and their abuse of me. 

For me, this is always on my mind.  I know with the procedure that done on him that it is very likely to cause major issues and/or the medicine that forced upon him because of the procedure also cause issues.   I cannot forgive myself for what I call his rape at the hands of the medical community.  My nightmares are very vivid.  I have dreams of the blond nurse for example:  she picks up a baby chicken and spreads its legs and wings apart.  Then, laughing, she suddenly takes her thumb and forefinger and squashes its neck.  I dream that we are different places and the cath lab nurses appear and chase my husband so they can harm him.  I cannot watch tv because if there is anything to do with Rancidcan or nurses, I get upset.  I cannot travel where I live without seeing their signs about having heartfelt moments for $49.  I feel sorry and upset for anyone who thinks this hospital actually cares about the people they may treat.  The heart billboard is especially upsetting.  It is personal.  They have no heart.   I usually give it the finger like I do whenever I see anything associated with either of these hospitals.  We both become upset when we hear an ambulance helicopter flying overhead because we know they may be committing assault and battery on a person who already is seriously ill/injured.  I used to love the weekends but now Saturday nights and early Sunday morning just make me live through what happened minute by minute again and again.  I loathe this time.  My husband no longer wants to be in our family room on a Saturday night where the heart attack happened so as not to begin this series of events again.  Both of us no longer take pleasure in the things that we did before we the torture and abuse.  We fear medical people and the power they took from us making us their prisoner once we enter their doors.  Entering a medical facility’s doors take a lot for us as they now have condemned him to lifetime of medical interference.  They seemed angry that he was healthy, not diabetic and did not have any symptoms of heart disease prior to his heart attack.  They put in “quotes” they he had had prostate cancer as if they didn’t believe him.  He did not take any prescription drugs even though he was in his mid-60”s.  They made sure now he does.  In fact, his rx for statin was the highest dose prescribed even though his cholesterol levels were well with the high normal range. He didn’t have high blood pressure but they made sure he now has to take a pill made from poison.  They say don’t drink gas but blood pressure pills are made from gas additives.   I assume that doctors do whatever they can to make sure all older people are on prescription medicines as they know the more medicines, the more they have different conditions stemming from the medicines, and the more the patient has to see the doctor and be prescribed more medicines. It is a win-win except for the patient who gets caught in a cycle of greed and malicious treatment.

It was not the heart attack that made us this way but rather the people and institutions whom tortured and abused us.  We are grateful they did not kill him with all their torture and abuse.  However, what they have taken from us by forcibly performing a procedure on him without consent and the subsequent abuse has let us not in better shape from their administrations but in worse shape.  I think there is a medical oath about doing no harm but apparently that medical oath is not taken or if it is, it is only lip service.  They have also put us into a place where we must work through the PTSD on our own as we do not trust them.  Why would we seek treatment for PTSD from the very people that harmed us?  We did not expect to be harmed by them and so trust is forever broken.

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