Littering the hall and bedroom floors are boxes and items to pack. I want to leave Massachusetts, but will Texas be my final destination? That makes organization vital and packing a massive challenge for someone who lost her organizational skills.
Looking at the stuff to do makes me want to stay put, but that thought doesn’t last long. What would make moving easy? Storage for everything and shipping my car and a few items.
Had the doctors taken me seriously, I would have completed my MPH at Harvard. I made the right decision to withdraw for the wrong reasons. It was a stressful environment for change agents like me. I could not be tamed, painted, or molded to fit any shape. I might have died if I had tried to complete the degree without knowing I had a concussion and new-onset HTN. I returned to classes after the head injury to finish the semester and had a stroke. When the fall semester began, I realized I could not continue. Just like that, my dream evaporated, and life changed.
The medications affected me. I was too busy to pay much attention. However, I noticed racing thoughts, palpitations, and delusions of grandeur. Despite such symptoms in a 50-year-old woman, I did not get an EKG. The doctor did not check my heart rate or blood pressure. There was no change in the medication dose. He did not take my complaints seriously. We talked about scheduling a holter which was an inadequate workup for my symptoms. Not sure if he even scheduled one before I passed out.
After trying multiple sleeping medications, the sleep specialist designed a treatment regimen to keep me awake during the day. I had to drive, and I fell asleep at the wheel, so I was on not one but two medications to keep me awake– Provigil 200mg and Vyvanse 40mg plus my strong morning coffee. Naturally, my sleep got worse while I was the energy bunny.
Both Provigil and Vyvanse cause insomnia and HTN. Vyvanse can cause sudden death. The day I passed out, I woke up feeling unusually tired. Surprisingly I made it to class but changed my plans to drive back to New Hampshire and remained in Massachusetts that night.
My head struck the concrete bathroom floor. I woke up to blood around me. In the mirror, I could see my jaw was fractured and dislocated. I had a gash under the chin. My teeth were loose and chipped. It was the beginning of a medical nightmare that haunts me today.
I didn’t realize until now I received poor healthcare in a State known to be the Mecca of healthcare because I was Black. My health did not matter.