PTSD, Professor Google, and me

I wonder if anyone was ever electrocuted by sweating all over their computer...sounds like an interesting question, but one that doesn't seem to have a definitive answer. Hmmm...

It's been that kind of week: severe heat (severe as in over 100 degrees Fahrenheit on one day, over 90 on several others), and, of course, no air conditioning. I would even dare to venture outside-and think that when I turned crispy, just turn me over and fry the other side. And so many people were loving just getting their kit off, hanging out and turning beet red. There were warnings about being outside between 11am and 3pm- but I guess a lot of people don't really mind setting themselves up for heat stroke. Me, I'm out in the sun for five minutes without being covered up and I turn the color of beetroot and then peel, and I'm back to my natural color: I look like I'm ready for embalming. So much for a healthy (or unhealthy) tan.

I was in clinic on the hottest day of recent history-last week-and I met another patient I only see annually. Jo usually comes on other days, and not as regularly as I do, so it was good to catch up. It was good until she told me about her nephew, who was given the wrong medication while in hospital and ended up with severe brain damage. Except for the "severe brain damage", this was a familiar story. No apology from the hospital, only feeble excuses (another familiar story). The family wanted to sue, but were told that the hospital wouldn't accept liability and would mess them around until they were bankrupt. Another familiar story!

Jo knew about the whole gentamicin disaster-same hospital, too (no surprises there), and she was asking me whether I was able to let the whole matter go. After all, it has now been (almost exactly) nine years of hell. We had a long chat-infusions take four hours-so we had lots of time to compare notes. And Jo, whose husband works with PTSD patients, suggested that I had that from the time the hospital nearly killed me, still have it, and should find someone who specializes in the disorder.

This is really important, because I always associated PTSD with the military, or police, or victims of terrorism...you know what I mean, people who are severely traumatized by things that happen to them. I never associated it with being nearly killed (and essentially rendered disabled) by hospital incompetence. No, Jo said, that is a misconception; severe trauma is severe trauma.

Who knew? I've had to cope (for better or worse-usually worse) by myself for nine years. So I promised Jo that I would look into it. And I haven't-yet-because I still don't think of myself as someone who is brave, bearing up-what I went through isn't in the same category as the categories I mentioned. It was an interesting theory of Jo's, though.

So that brings me up to the present. And clearing out the storage units, something that I have two weeks to do-heat or no heat, I have to do it. So this is where I step up and get ruthless.

I thought a lot about what Jo was saying-trying to be helpful, which I always appreciate- and I remembered a quote I read years ago. Confucius, maybe? Or Epictetus? Doesn't really matter, since they're both dead. But whoever it was said that one should never seek revenge; seeking revenge is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.

Obviously, they weren't from Essex. Or anywhere in this country, for that matter.