So, I caught a lot of shit for this story in another sub, thus I removed it. But this is a personal experience and what you read into it, yeah thats up to you.
This is a LONG story, sorry.
So, I’ve been back and forth on whether or not to tell this story. Mostly because it involves some aspects of my working life, that I am not at liberty to discuss, but also because it had severe personal implications for me. Anyway, I have decided to share it here. And I hope you understand why there are things I simply can’t go into detail about.
This alle started in December 2020. As part of my education, I was scheduled for a 6 month internship at a psychiatric hospital. I had previous experience with working with this type of patients, so I was really excited about it. I switched around the 4 different wards in the hospital, so I treated a lot of different people with lots of different problems.
I was curious about all the different aspects, so I never said no to a task, which meant I came across everything from murderers and pedophiles, to suicidal teenagers with personality disorders.
In my worklife, I’ve had people spit at me, verbally and physically assault me, throw shit at me and all that stuff. So I like to think I’m a pretty though guy. And besides that, I always carried a personal assault-alarm. One press of a button and staff from every ward would be there in a matter of seconds.
On one of the wards I quickly noticed that there was a certain room, which was monitored 24/7 by a guard. To be clear this is a pretty normal procedure, either because the patient is physically abusive, suicidal or restrained. But most patients get the watch pulled off them relatively quickly.
I asked a colleague, and she told me it was a female patient (let’s just call her Anne) who was extremely aggressive and psychotic beyond belief.
At that point Anne had been restrained to her bed for 3 months. – I could not believe what I was hearing. We have really strict procedures when it comes to restraining people with belts. (Btw, they´re soft belts made of fabric – not leather). So, restraining the patient really is the absolutely last resort we go to.
I asked the chief psychiatrist, what was up with this girl and he just scuffed and said “If only I knew, but honestly she defies logic.”
He told me that at first they though she was psychotic, but her symptoms only got worse, no matter how much different medication they tried. Then they though she might have suffered a trauma, and was in a dissociative state. But that still didn’t fit the profile of her symptoms.
She had gone from being a perfectly normal woman, in her twenties, to being violent, extremely aggressive and unable to speak – in just 4 months. That is practically unheard of, especially as no drugs was involved. (We regularly make a toxicology-check of all patients and ALWAYS when they’re admitted).
One day my alarm went off (they’re all connected so I know where I need to run to to help my colleagues). I immediately knew it had to be Anne. And I was right.
She had only had her legs and torso fixated (again normal procedure, if the patient otherwise is relatively calm.) She had defecated in her hand, and thrown it at the guard watching her. She then proceeded to bite her fingers so hard that 3 or 4 (I can’t remember the exact number) had really bad fractures. Both her hands were a bloody mess, and she needed like 50 stitches afterwards.
I wasn’t the blood or the fact that she would throw her own filth at us, I had seen that loads of times. But the screams this woman made. It was the most primal, guttural and terrifying sounds I have ever heard. It. Scared. Me. Shitless.
The best way I can describe it something like a bear growling and a mountain-lion hissing and spitting at the same time. I have seen my fair share of people in primal distress, but I could have never imagined that a person could make sounds like THAT.
As an intern, I am in no way allowed to use force. So I was just watching as seven of my colleagues tried to fixate her fully to her bed. They had serious trouble pinning her down. (Remind you these are really experienced people).
At last we called a medicinal-alarm (which immediately calls for a chief psychiatrist to make decisions). He decided to forcefully medicate her. They gave her one and then a second shot, it only seemed to piss her off, even though it should have put a bear to sleep. At the third injection she calmed enough so that they could restrain her.
She never nodded off, she just breathed heavily and kept staring up at the same corner of the room. Sometimes smirking at something only she could see.
Fast forward 2 weeks.
I was back at the ward, it was a relatively calm weekend, so there really wasn’t much to do. Anne was in one of her good periods, so she had had her restraints removed. A guard was always by her though.
I was sitting in the office, when suddenly I see Anne walking in the hallway without the guard. I don’t know if he had taken a bathroom break or whatever, but he wasn’t around. So I catched up with her, I asked her what she was doing in the hallway alone. But of course she didn’t respond.
I should mention, that many of my colleagues were afraid of Anne – and rightfully so. Even though everyone is aware that it’s the illness and not the person attacking you. But when it keeps happening that patient does catch some stigma. I for one always try to look at the person and not the illness, so I asked where we were going. She took me by the arm and led me to the common-area.
She went over to a book cabinet. Turned and looked at me, and muttered “Read… Book…” I was completely taken aback, by the fact that she was speaking.
She pulled out a random book and handed it to me. She then sat down on the floor and started rocking back and forth. I Joined her on the floor, and started reading the book. It was just some random old book, probably from a charity, and it had no special meaning. But as I read, she came closer and closer to me. She then cuddled up to me, put her head on my lap and fell asleep.
One of my colleagues came by and she looked absolutely shocked. And before I knew it, five or six people including the chief psychiatrist was looking at me reading this random book out to her.
I caught a lot of praise for this, which is always nice.
But then.. Things took a turn for the worse, for me at least.
It started one night when I was home alone.
It was a completely normal night for me, until I heard something from upstairs coming down the stairs. The best way to describe it, is like a big dog thrashing and tumbling down the stairs. You know, like when a dog rushes down the stairs to great you?But this was bigger, much bigger. I could hear the weight of something tumbling down, while nails or claws or whatever slided on the steps. I got up, thinking there somehow was a massive animal in my house. But there was nothing there. That scared the everliving shit out of me. I had NEVER had anything like that happen to me. I left the house and stayed the night with my parents.
But I also had strange effects on my body. Like I had a filter over my eyes or something. Everything started to seem out of focus, like tunnelvision but with a massive blur added to it.
And then I started dissociate. I had this feeling of being totally out of contact with my body.
Then came the panic-attacks. My gf called an ambulance one of the times, because I was on the verge of a heart attack.
I have had no prior problems with my psyche, but I figured it was stress.
I have suffered from sleep paralysis before. But never with “hallucinations” or whatever you want to call it. But that started recently. I see a large black mass, with long arms and legs sit in the top corner of our bedroom. Like a massive spider, but just with four legs. This is now happening on a nightly basis.
A couple of days ago I told my girlfriend about it, because she kept pestering me with questions about my nightmares. She said “Thats funny… Everytime you’re just about to go to sleep, you look up in that corner and you sort of smirk.”
That reminded me of Anne. And now I am absolutely terrified that I might have brought something home.
Believe or not, thats up to you. I have never treated a patient like Anne, and none of my colleagues had either. It was scary stuff. And I have never suffered any psychological problems before – never. But something is going on, I am sure of it. It feels like it wants to get back at me or something idk.
And by the way, Anne is much better today. She is in a rehabilitating home, where she thrives. One day she might even be able to have her normal life back.
submitted by /u/TomrummetsKald
[link] [comments]So, I caught a lot of shit for this story in another sub, thus I removed it. But this is a personal experience and what you read into it, yeah thats up to you. This is a LONG story, sorry. So, I’ve been back and forth on whether or not to tell this story. Mostly because it involves some aspects of my working life, that I am not at liberty to discuss, but also because it had severe personal implications for me. Anyway, I have decided to share it here. And I hope you understand why there are things I simply can’t go into detail about. This alle started in December 2020. As part of my education, I was scheduled for a 6 month internship at a psychiatric hospital. I had previous experience with working with this type of patients, so I was really excited about it. I switched around the 4 different wards in the hospital, so I treated a lot of different people with lots of different problems. I was curious about all the different aspects, so I never said no to a task, which meant I came across everything from murderers and pedophiles, to suicidal teenagers with personality disorders. In my worklife, I’ve had people spit at me, verbally and physically assault me, throw shit at me and all that stuff. So I like to think I’m a pretty though guy. And besides that, I always carried a personal assault-alarm. One press of a button and staff from every ward would be there in a matter of seconds. On one of the wards I quickly noticed that there was a certain room, which was monitored 24/7 by a guard. To be clear this is a pretty normal procedure, either because the patient is physically abusive, suicidal or restrained. But most patients get the watch pulled off them relatively quickly. I asked a colleague, and she told me it was a female patient (let’s just call her Anne) who was extremely aggressive and psychotic beyond belief. At that point Anne had been restrained to her bed for 3 months. – I could not believe what I was hearing. We have really strict procedures when it comes to restraining people with belts. (Btw, they´re soft belts made of fabric – not leather). So, restraining the patient really is the absolutely last resort we go to. I asked the chief psychiatrist, what was up with this girl and he just scuffed and said “If only I knew, but honestly she defies logic.” He told me that at first they though she was psychotic, but her symptoms only got worse, no matter how much different medication they tried. Then they though she might have suffered a trauma, and was in a dissociative state. But that still didn’t fit the profile of her symptoms. She had gone from being a perfectly normal woman, in her twenties, to being violent, extremely aggressive and unable to speak – in just 4 months. That is practically unheard of, especially as no drugs was involved. (We regularly make a toxicology-check of all patients and ALWAYS when they’re admitted). One day my alarm went off (they’re all connected so I know where I need to run to to help my colleagues). I immediately knew it had to be Anne. And I was right. She had only had her legs and torso fixated (again normal procedure, if the patient otherwise is relatively calm.) She had defecated in her hand, and thrown it at the guard watching her. She then proceeded to bite her fingers so hard that 3 or 4 (I can’t remember the exact number) had really bad fractures. Both her hands were a bloody mess, and she needed like 50 stitches afterwards. I wasn’t the blood or the fact that she would throw her own filth at us, I had seen that loads of times. But the screams this woman made. It was the most primal, guttural and terrifying sounds I have ever heard. It. Scared. Me. Shitless. The best way I can describe it something like a bear growling and a mountain-lion hissing and spitting at the same time. I have seen my fair share of people in primal distress, but I could have never imagined that a person could make sounds like THAT. As an intern, I am in no way allowed to use force. So I was just watching as seven of my colleagues tried to fixate her fully to her bed. They had serious trouble pinning her down. (Remind you these are really experienced people). At last we called a medicinal-alarm (which immediately calls for a chief psychiatrist to make decisions). He decided to forcefully medicate her. They gave her one and then a second shot, it only seemed to piss her off, even though it should have put a bear to sleep. At the third injection she calmed enough so that they could restrain her. She never nodded off, she just breathed heavily and kept staring up at the same corner of the room. Sometimes smirking at something only she could see. Fast forward 2 weeks. I was back at the ward, it was a relatively calm weekend, so there really wasn’t much to do. Anne was in one of her good periods, so she had had her restraints removed. A guard was always by her though. I was sitting in the office, when suddenly I see Anne walking in the hallway without the guard. I don’t know if he had taken a bathroom break or whatever, but he wasn’t around. So I catched up with her, I asked her what she was doing in the hallway alone. But of course she didn’t respond. I should mention, that many of my colleagues were afraid of Anne – and rightfully so. Even though everyone is aware that it’s the illness and not the person attacking you. But when it keeps happening that patient does catch some stigma. I for one always try to look at the person and not the illness, so I asked where we were going. She took me by the arm and led me to the common-area. She went over to a book cabinet. Turned and looked at me, and muttered “Read… Book…” I was completely taken aback, by the fact that she was speaking. She pulled out a random book and handed it to me. She then sat down on the floor and started rocking back and forth. I Joined her on the floor, and started reading the book. It was just some random old book, probably from a charity, and it had no special meaning. But as I read, she came closer and closer to me. She then cuddled up to me, put her head on my lap and fell asleep. One of my colleagues came by and she looked absolutely shocked. And before I knew it, five or six people including the chief psychiatrist was looking at me reading this random book out to her. I caught a lot of praise for this, which is always nice. But then.. Things took a turn for the worse, for me at least. It started one night when I was home alone. It was a completely normal night for me, until I heard something from upstairs coming down the stairs. The best way to describe it, is like a big dog thrashing and tumbling down the stairs. You know, like when a dog rushes down the stairs to great you?But this was bigger, much bigger. I could hear the weight of something tumbling down, while nails or claws or whatever slided on the steps. I got up, thinking there somehow was a massive animal in my house. But there was nothing there. That scared the everliving shit out of me. I had NEVER had anything like that happen to me. I left the house and stayed the night with my parents. But I also had strange effects on my body. Like I had a filter over my eyes or something. Everything started to seem out of focus, like tunnelvision but with a massive blur added to it. And then I started dissociate. I had this feeling of being totally out of contact with my body. Then came the panic-attacks. My gf called an ambulance one of the times, because I was on the verge of a heart attack. I have had no prior problems with my psyche, but I figured it was stress. I have suffered from sleep paralysis before. But never with “hallucinations” or whatever you want to call it. But that started recently. I see a large black mass, with long arms and legs sit in the top corner of our bedroom. Like a massive spider, but just with four legs. This is now happening on a nightly basis. A couple of days ago I told my girlfriend about it, because she kept pestering me with questions about my nightmares. She said “Thats funny… Everytime you’re just about to go to sleep, you look up in that corner and you sort of smirk.” That reminded me of Anne. And now I am absolutely terrified that I might have brought something home. Believe or not, thats up to you. I have never treated a patient like Anne, and none of my colleagues had either. It was scary stuff. And I have never suffered any psychological problems before – never. But something is going on, I am sure of it. It feels like it wants to get back at me or something idk. And by the way, Anne is much better today. She is in a rehabilitating home, where she thrives. One day she might even be able to have her normal life back. submitted by /u/TomrummetsKald [link] [comments]
