So, yesterday afternoon I was shuttled up to the 9th floor with all the women dealing exclusively with trauma.  Later, I had my first consult with my new Psychiatrist, who shall now be known as: “Shrinky Dink.”  Since it was Friday afternoon, I didn’t think I’d see him until Monday.

He has a sarcastic sense of humour which I’m sure he uses to “break the ice” and “be friendly.”  However, this can prove a bit difficult for an Aspie.  He told me, “I cancelled my afternoon plans to meet with you,” as soon as he started.  I thanked him but wasn’t sure exactly what he meant.  Was it a barb? Was he joking?

Ah, being an Aspie in hospital… *brings back not at all fond memories of last stay #7*  Fucking Barbarians.

To (try to) keep it brief, PA totally agog, that this motherfucker treats women who have issues with trauma.  Just a few things he said to me but there were more!

  • “Are you just going to keep saying, ‘But I…’…”
  • “You have to push this place hard enough to make it work for you.”
  • “You just haven’t been trying hard enough.”
  • “Well, aren’t you a sensitive little thing.” (I had already been crying a fair bit, but this one was in response to me not “trying hard enough.”)

He also questioned/doubted how my PTSD manifested itself.  I had to state “another way” in that I have had flashbacks, as well.

He gave me some kind of “drill” about how to “behave” amongst other traumatized women.  WTF??? Am I dense? Apparently so.  You see, he had confused me so much (and more at the end of this lovely “consult”) the only thing I could think of in terms of my “behaviour” being odd (gee, more sensitivity?) was my ASSperger’s kicking me in the ASS, again! Not from my viewpoint, of course, but his!

I asked him about stimming.  I gave examples of what I might do if overstimulated.  He said: “Just remove yourself from the room or environment so you don’t upset others.”  Excuse the goddamn hell out of me!!! Trying to “remove myself” when I’m spazzing out all over? I mean, just let me stim as much as want! Let me stammer and have issues not getting things out verbally.  Who cares! Christ!

I’m so tired.  I don’t know what to do.  After all of that, I said I’d have to seriously think this whole place over during the weekend.  Really decide if I want to be here.  As all (most?) wards, it’s quiet on weekends.  People go on passes, nothing’s happening.

Last night I explained all of this shit to my nurse.  She said just rest and think about it later.  Write down all that upset me, tell him on Monday, and let him think it over. *sighs*  Then, give stuff a chance around here.  See what really goes on.  I can’t think.  I feel sick.  I still…duh…

Uh oh…what are those “I” sentences looking like? *shakes head*  In my head, I’m saying over and over again, “No, please no!” I was really nauseous when I went to bed last night.  Even then I was saying the above.  It takes me a few hours to tell after I get up so I’m not sure yet.  But I will be.


I’ve only brought out Wonder Cane to carry baby MacBook to the computer room to use their LAN.  OMG, don’t let me drop baby! Also, my Gravol orders for being “post-ick”tal© are still on my chart, too.  That is good.

I think they actually have “real” tea here (i.e. caffeinated.)  That is very good! I’ll go try some but being undercaffeinated? Is that really all that’s going on? Oh, wouldn’t that be fantastic!!! I’m still going to take Wonder Cane outside with me.  Then maybe just come back and rest.  I’ve finished a poem (I think it’s done.)  Maybe write more (brain cells permitting.)  Read?

Ah, another “good” thing? There is nothing more sad, demoralizing, pathetic, makes-you-feel-so-alone-you-want-to-die, than sitting by yourself at a table crying into your dinner tray–while everyone else is chatting it up at a full table “just over there.” *tries not to cry now*  One really sweet woman invited me to join them even though there was no room! I said thanks, but no.  When she was done, she came over and started talking.  Soon, others too.  They all said the best therapy was what they were doing: sitting around yakking and bitching.  I still don’t know.

I hope everyone else is doing alright out there.


  1. Hi patientanonymous. Welcome to your own blog. What’s up?


    I think now I can finally start screwing my head on straight. Or a bit more straight. Unbelievable.


  2. He sounds like a bit of a twat. I’m sure he thought he was being very clever and breaking the ice and whatnot but he should really go to a few more classes in people skills.

    Hope things get better for you love, you are in my thoughts


  3. What a major dick that doc was. Ugh. I would have wanted to slap him. Reminds me of asshole doc I saw at a private hospital. Grrrrrrrrrr…. some people should not go into psychiatry.

    OK: Done venting.

    Still thinking of you!


  4. Hi GirlBlue. I agree. I had talked about it with a couple of the other women (as mentioned, they were kind enough to talk to me) and they thought it was pretty inappropriate, as well.

    I have since found out that talking about your “details” with staff members is “breaking one of the rules” here. Well, according to all of the information (that I hadn’t bothered to read – yawn) I have already broken a lot of rules!

    Fine. Okay. So, what would you expect of wee PA? Especially in a hospital setting! Of course I break rules! That’s what you just DO when you’re in hospital!!!

    Stay tuned for next post. May not be much more rule breaking for long.

    Thanks hon. And I think things are getting better, at least as far as here.

    Hi katm. Yes, another lovely run in I’ve had with someone from the medical “profession.” Plus, feel free to vent as much as you wish! I do, so everybody can, as well! It’s only fair as far as I see it!

    Thanks to you too, hon. It means a lot that you’re still thinking of me. This is truly redonculous. You also: See Next Post. It makes me look truly redonculous, too!


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