Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'scams'.
Found 1 result
I called my pdoc yesterday, and left a long message. I couldn't believe how depressed my voice sounded, but I also am crying all the time, sleeping a totally bizarre schedule, a little agoraphobic, ideating (I am NOT suicidal, but I am having the 'I want to die' thoughts), etc. My appetite is screwed. He actually did call, but it was in the middle of an emergency, and he knows emergency means seizures, and he said he would call back. I know this is a long explanation, but it is necessary background: Today, DH had a partial seizure either while on the phone, or right before he got a call. It was a scam, the type where they say "If you answer our poll, you'll get a discounted Celebrity Cruise!" If he hadn't been so out of it, he would never have fallen for it, AND we both have made a vow never to take a cruise, so I knew something strange was going on. His sweat often has a metallic smell after seizures, and I could smell it as soon as I walked into the room. His voice was slurred, he kept losing track of the fact that he was even on the phone, he had to have numbers repeated to him over and over and over (remember, he is a software developer, and former double major in chemistry and physics, so a numbers guy). If they asked for him to repeat the number back, he couldn't figure out what they were talking about. He was clearly non compos mentis, and they have it on tape, so I will go to small claims if I have to. They took TWO of his credit cards. WTF? When I tried to get him to stop, or at least tell me what was going on, he kept yelling, "Leave me alone!" Which is totally post-ictal behavior. Once he hung up, and I explained it was a scam, he went into hysterics, and started saying he didn't deserve me, because I was always cleaning up his messes. Um, don't worry sweetie, the feeling is mutual, I would be a disaster without him. I tried to call the cruise-line back right away, and he had another seizure, and started crashing around, so I was on our landline, chasing him around, and then that was when my pdoc called on my cell. But now I am afraid my pdoc is mad at me, and thinks I blew him off. He has never let this much time go by between my initial call and our conversation. I am so upset, I keep slapping my head, and banging it against the wall, I feel like such an idiot for not hanging up on the cruise line, and talking to him instead. That is another thing I do when depressed, and feel like I have done something wrong: slapping my own face, punching my own head, and banging it against walls. Great for headaches. And I woke up without a headache today for the first time since early March, and within a couple of hours, I had a fairly bad headache from adrenaline and stress and crying (the slapping and banging came later). So so much for a nice pain free day. Who knows when that will happen again. My online healthcare contact thingy, where I am supposed to be able to contact my doctors, won't allow contacts to psychiatry. I can't even apologize or explain what happened to my pdoc beforehand, I just have to call again tomorrow, and piss him off, because it is such a weird story. I feel like I am the most depressed I have been since the 90s. I need to talk to him. I am not in an emergency situation, but I rarely am. But I need him to talk with me. I need help. I can't stop crying. I figured out there is a lab really close to here, so he could prescribe lithium on the phone, and I could get levels without going into Palo Alto. I NEED MY FUCKING PDOC. --- My best friend saltcrazed (an occasional lurker on CBs) just called, and calmed me down somewhat. After the whole fiasco this morning, I wrote this hysterical email to her, and she is just the best friend I have ever had. She also has epilepsy and BP, so she understands all the shit in our lives. So I am no longer sobbing. But still, weepy, ANXIOUS, and scared that my pdoc is mad at me. He should understand if I explain it to him, shouldn't he? He knows about the brain surgery and everything. SHIT. --- Shit, and now Jason has had a tonic-clonic, but I was able to convince him to take some ativan after a few minutes. So that is either 3 or 4 seizures in the last 24 hours. Well, there is still another hour and ten minutes for something else to go wrong today.