So, I've been throught 8 VCUGs from 2 to 6 years old, and developed OCD and ED early in childhood, which isn't uncommon on PTSD patients. I've been in treatment for OCD and ED with this psychiatrist for almost two years now, but I'd never told her anything about my VCUGs. Yesterday I had an appointment with her, and finaly talked about it, 'cause I tought that could be important for her to know. I was nervous, my voice shaking, and she pretty much dismissed it and told me straight up that I don't know what really happend 'cause "children have a lot of imagination". She had never treat me like this before, always had been really caring and good listener. After the appointment I was very confuse and somehow ashamed, and told my wife about it. My wife has ADHD and she's in treatment with the same doctor, and for my surprise, she got aggraveted with me for talking to the doctor about this, and said that she knew this doctor wasn't the right one for this and that we should have had looked for a psychiatrist who is specialist in trauma. My wife always had been really suportive and sensitive with me so her behaviour when I told her about my appointment really surprise me, 'cause she talked like I did the wrong thing telling the doctor about this, and the doctor's response was not a big deal cause "she's not a trauma specialist" Now I'm angry, confuse and regreting talked about this.

I had my first baby in July , the birth ended up resulting in an episiotomy and forceps needed to deliver baby . After which I received a 3rd degree tear . I had a 6 week check with the pelvic floor physio where she guided me through pelvic floor exercises to help , she wanted to do a physical check of my peri and also my bum where the tear went to , I declined as I was still massively traumatised from the birth and not in the head space to be touched again ( the days after the birth I had so many hands down there it was super uncomfortable)

Anyway I never heard from the gynie clinic until nearly 2.5 mths postpartum in which I still was just traumatised and maybe abit lazy I never mad the appointment but mostly the thought of walking past the birth wing and potentially seeing the dr who played a part of the birth and didn’t wrong thing ( I was told he never should of used the forceps I needed a emergency C as baby only had minutes to survive how stuck she was . Anyway again I never went back to get a final check of my peri and the tear . My recovery wasn’t to bad I felt good down there although I had sex with my partner for the first time last night and I read super uncomfortable and slight painful , and when I was having a feel of the area today I noticed I could feel something really hard sharp and small on the inside of my bum before my anus

Any advice please??

How to accept the loss of your former self

Pre-Heart disease me was a young 18 year old with no worry in the world but boom that summer all of a sudden, i had an heart that started to function less than it should, due to complications of Myocarditis by suspected 2nd Pfizer shot, Now 3 years later at 21 years old i still have a tough time dealing with this loss of life and i'm starying to resent life itself, My heart function goes down each year after the checkups but noone does something about it, I'm so sick and tired of constant palpitations, Shortness of breath and exercise intollerance, I used to be very much capable of endurance sports and my Heart would never act strange but since summer 2021 everything changed and i have lost all hope the Grief and pain of not being able to go back and change my decision is nagging and i have a hard time accepting that my life will not be aslong as i'd hoped but at this point i have lost all hope, Why do i have to suffer with this, Why me and why do Docters not take me serious anymore, I can't handle these stressors anymore they have tottally destroyed my former self that was confident and felt Healthy, I want to go back but i can't, there is no miracle cure for me either, It's all too difficult for me to process, and Grief has been expedential and i'm having a hard time dealing with it.

Nearly all of the neuro doctors in the only hospital accessible to me have had some part in my recent trauma. The malpractice and neglect started in Feb this year and has ended in June of this year. It was very rough and I am struggling to process this. I wanted to look for books about people who suffered from something similar but I can’t find any. Any recommendations?

I have had some very traumatizing experiences at the hands of healthcare professionals. Now nearly every time I have to deal with a healthcare provider, I go into a complete fight or flight response and I can't seem to control it. I yell, I kick people, I try to get away as fast as I can, and am just generally a horrible person.

It often escalates to the point of being restrained by security guards which keeps deepening the trauma and worsening my behaviour. I feel so guilty afterwards and it's affecting my self-worth.

I know being abusive isn't ok but I can't seem to control it. It's like I black out and lose all control of myself. I often don't remember what I've even done. I don't know what to do.

A little background information: I'm autistic, transgender (which has been a big source of trauma when accessing healthcare), and I started using a wheelchair later on in life due to a neurological condition. The problem behavior started after I had my wheelchair taken away from me in the hospital and they tried to force me to walk.

my enema abuse story/being reminded by recent nightmares

TW: mention of ED, depression, anxiety, and invalidating therapists

sorry if i mention some things that aren’t necessarily related to the abuse but i feel they are necessary to be included to explain all my trauma and to fully vent everything

when i was 12/13 (and i think some of 14 but it’s all kind of hazy) i was forced to have enemas by my mom.

now i will admit sometimes i had marks in my underwear but that was from trying to hold it from not wanting to get up, at the time i was dealing with the loss of my grandma and really was going through depression because of that and the new hormones in my body from starting puberty.

but also i have my reasons to believe my mom didn’t do it just because of that, because not only did she give me miralax first and it worked and i didn’t mind taking it (even tho it was very humiliating to be stared down while drinking it and brought me to tears many times) but still do enemas, but because i was a ballet dancer.

around that age is when i started developing a stomach, which was inevitable because both sides of my family are on the heavier side. but i was the only girl with a with a little bulging stomach in her leotard in my class, and if you know anything about ballet culture you know we’re taught the skinnier the better basically. while yes i myself was self conscious about that, but i believe my mom didn’t like it and gave me the enemas to try to make me skinnier. i’m unsure that if this were true if it were in a trying to help me way or trying to punish me way. or i could also believe that maybe this was done to her and that’s why she did it to me, because she does not have a relationship with her mother and has never told me why.

but recently i’ve been having nightmares about this and have finally recognized what i went through as abuse. i was homeschooled at the time because of really bad anxiety issues so she could do them to me whenever she was home when eve she wanted. she would make me do it multiple times for about 2-3 hours and sometimes when i would say it hurt and couldn’t take anymore she would say “you can take some more” or “you’re going to have to take some more”, it would hurt to the point where i felt like my stomach was going to explode. and if i didn’t/refused to do them she would take my ipad and tv privileges away (she didn’t want me having a phone until high school)

also, she did not try hard to keep this a secret from my brother and he would ridicule me, but i forgive him, he was only 10/11 at the time and didn’t know any better, he was just a kid and i actually feel bad he had to witness/know about it (i can’t remember how he found out). my dad knew about this and i would beg him to try to get her to stop but because of their marital problems and me being the one begging them to never get divorced when one night i heard them fighting he would reluctantly listen to her to not cause fights. they would end up divorcing a couple years later (which THANK GOD they needed that and little me just didn’t see it).

also i remember one time she took me to some random lady’s house for some thing where it was basically an enema but hooked up to like a machine where you could see everything coming out and she said wouldn’t do it without my consent so my mom threatened to take my ipad and tv from me so i reluctantly agreed and that was the most humiliating thing i’ve ever experienced. also this lady doing this out of her house in her basement has to be illegal, RIGHT?? it feels illegal.

also around that time i started going to therapy and i don’t know if my mom interviewed or bribed this therapist or just got lucky but she agreed with my mom on EVERYTHING, including that i needed this and there was no way i could have had an eating disorder before/during this time (this is also the same lady that told me to deal with my depression i needed to “fake it ‘til i make it”)

anyways, i’ve been having nightmares about it recently and i think it’s developed from a recent trip i’ve had with her that went not great at least for me physically and emotionally, my mom isn’t strict anymore and kinda just acts like a teenager and doesn’t really ask about my life

but because of these nightmares i haven’t slept (i’m currently writing this at 3am) and that has made my boyfriend pretty concerned. i just told him that it’s about something my mom made me do when i was younger and i’d rather not discuss it at least not over text or facetime. i am ready to tell him about it so if i still have these nightmares or feel sad about it i’ll tell him next time i see him in person, but honestly i’ve never told him about it because i rarely think about it like it’s almost trauma erased, i only think about it once or twice a year.

but one thing about me is that i can get anger issues (especially when driving) and my boyfriend has been encouraging me to go to therapy, only thing is that i’m scared to get another invalidating therapist, and that has prevented me from going. i plan on explaining that to him but i guess my questions are how do i tell him everything without it being a lot all at once and have any of you had the same type of experience with therapy and how have you gotten over it?

sorry this is so long lol

TLDR: mom forced me to get enemas from what i believe is because of me gaining a stomach and being a ballet dancer, had a therapist agree with her on everything so now i have a fear of getting another invalidating therapist and because of recent nightmares i’m going to tell my boyfriend about what has happened to me. questions are how do i tell him everything without it being a lot all at once and have any of you ever had a similar experience with therapy and how did you get over it?

i originally posted this on r/suppository_trauma

also i wanted to clarify some things i forgot to include:

• they really slowed down/stopped once i quit ballet at 13/14 (which is why i believe it’s related to that)
• even tho i don’t have a close/great relationship with my mom i still love her
• i have not been able to loose the fat from my stomach being stretched out from having too much at once no matter how hard i work out and i fear it is permanent damage (but i know nothing about anything medical so if that’s not possible please let me know)

thank you for reading <3

I have a therapist who I really love and we are about to start therapy for my medical trauma and PTSD.

I’m 16 and have been dealing with this for almost 2 years now. I have developed trauma induced OCD because of it and all areas of my life are affected and I am constantly triggered.

I know it’s gonna be hard and it’s gonna be scary but does anyone have any tips for managing? Or any advice?

Tonight at dinner, my mom was talking about a kid in the second grade class she teaches. This kid is diabetic, and she was telling me and my roommate about a conversation she had with his mom. The kid has an insulin pump, but used to do the shots when he was very young. He would run from his mom and cry and beg her not to do it, but she had to or else he would die.

My mom started talking about how she had never considered that before, and how horrible it must have been to stab her kid every day to keep him alive. And how weird it must be to the kid, who has no concept of what the numbers on that monitor mean.

Maybe I’m overreacting, or maybe she didn’t wanna bring my trauma up to my roommate, but like.

My mom HAS diabetes, and she knows how it works. But also she hurt me when I could have died. She held me down while people assaulted me. I could never fully grasp why, and yet she gets so hostile and defensive when I try to talk about it.

I understand why, but it still hurts

How does one get an official Medical PTSD diagnosis? Is there one? And from who? Everyone acknowledges my PTSD lately but I want it in my file

hi! i recently got diagnosed with ptsd due to my medical trauma from repeated admissions due to my chronic illness 🌞 i’m looking for some active support groups or maybe friends that would be open to chat about their experiences with ptsd and how to deal with it, since it’s scarily new to me !!

I’ve seen something similar in the thread before but wanted to share my own story.

I went to a local PP to get my nexplanon out (I was single at the time, high anxiety, worsened depression, becoming anemic from months long bleeding etc). I wasn’t on insurance at the time and I was told I wasn’t eligible for reduced payment ~neither here nor there but added to my stress.

I was taken back to a procedure room and the nurse was lovely, made sure I was doing it by choice and not being forced etc. AMAZING nurse I just want to say.

The pa/dr came in after with lidocaine etc and injected my arm. It burned but not terribly and seconds later she cut across my arm and I told her “I can feel that” “it hurts”. She asked me if I could just get through it because it was such a short procedure. It took me by surprise a bit and made me feel like I was just being a wuss so I just shut down. (I know from previous experience that I’m a big fawn-er so I’m not surprised by this) I could feel her cutting through layers of skin and she finally finished and put a bandaid over it (also surprised by this/no stitch or skin glue etc?)

At the end of the procedure she told me I’d regret not getting on another BC immediately and that I’d learn from my poor choices. She tried to guilt me for about 15 minutes into getting an IUD but I knew I 1-couldn’t afford it and 2- didn’t think I could stand the pain from what others had told me. I left the office and cried in my car for probably 30 minutes feeling awful before I could see enough to drive home.

Still afraid at this point ~2 years later to get another BC because of the experience. :)

Both of my parents are pedo's. They openly admitted they were attracted to children. They also openly admitted they derived sexual gratification from seeing children suffer.

When I was about 4, I was demoted from child to sex object. They took away my belongings, prohibited me from speaking, would only interact with me in a sexual way, and subjected me to lots of other forms of abuse in order to facilitate the sexual abuse, and because they enjoyed watching me suffer. They would drug me and then insult me for being sick, probably doing horrible things to me when the drugs rendered me unconscious.

The doctor they took me to molested me while one of them watched and encouraged him.

When I hit my teens and got a more adult looking body, I became worthless to all of them. They told me I looked disgusting with my adult body shape and basically threw me away. The abuse got even worse.

I had no choice but to seek help. The person I told tried to drug me. I was threatened. Word got back to the abusers immediately. Then I didn't get to graduate from high school, lost access to my identifying documents, was forced to take on a massive amount of debt and then do forced labor to pay it off, they'd contact anyone in my life they could find and incite violence against me, all kinds of horrible stuff.

I actively sought help the entire time and no one cared. No one believed me. All I got was more abuse. I'm 45 now and still living like a ghost, unable to do the things most people take for granted because of this. I'm not welcome in schools or most workplaces. No one wants to date me or be my friend. I live in isolation, getting by on whatever I can, self employed. I deal with on-going efforts to harm me.

And it's all treated as a "mental health issue." Supposedly, this is all in my head and all I need is "counseling." Not basic human rights, no. I'm considered worthless because of what I've survived. Society literally supports the abusers' desire to kill me, which they have tried to do in the past. My life is supposed to be thrown away because a few people chose to molest me when I was a child.

Hi! Going out on a limb to see if anyone else’s mother had birth trauma. I’m 35f and the middle child. My mom had birth trauma with my younger sister, so this was the early 90s. My mom was unable to walk for 8 months after she had my younger sister, and the chronic pain she was left with made her immobile off and on for 25 years (she used to have to lie down for most afternoons, and she’d cancel family trips or family events at the last minute if she was in pain). Anyone else forced to grow up really fast/be the parentified daughter due to SPECIFICALLY a mother’s birth trauma?

Just wanted to share my story somewhere, maybe someone will have a similar or better experience than me but here it goes

Went to my doctor for some hip pain, and ive been nauseous for two weeks while spotting(period stuff) for the same amount of time had some headaches with it too. They took all my vitals my heart rate was about 116 resting which is high(kinda relevant i guess?) but i got up and they took me into the first room and there was no other patients in at the time, Good ill get out quickly get home after a long day of college. One of the medical students starts me off checking everything going over what my symptoms are and how long and then she got a doctor medical student? but she came in and went over it again and had me lay down and do some hip stuff to make sure i have range of motion and strength, she felt my stomach and listened to my heart and she said i was tachycardic but it was probably because of the pain in my hip or because i was nervous. Then the doctor comes in and takes some blood from a finger prick to be sure i have no infection because my temperature was a little high 99.9. but she said nothing abnormal. Then she suggested I should get my nexplanon implant taken out since its causing headaches and nausea for so long and I said yeah i didnt know that was an option but for sure. She looks at the clock and we had about thirty minutes and i said "Today?!" and she said yeah we can do it today and so i was whisked off into a procedure room. I wasn't expecting it so i was a bit freaked out obviously scared it was going to hurt. The medical student said she had it done a month ago and only the lidocaine injection hurts and then its smooth sailing. I texted my fiance telling him what was happening and how i was nervous, then someone came in and they moved the procedure chair over because it was on the left wall and my implant is in my left arm so they needed on that side. Then they started prepping me. I had to hold my arm above my head almost like someone who is leaning back casually(?) if that helps. they put the orange stuff on my arm where it would be at and put this almost puppy pee pad looking thing under my arm. Then the same medical student doctor came in and she started injecting the lidocaine which didnt really hurt maybe a little bit 2/10 pain. Then the doctor came in as she was finishing putting it in my arm. She brought more lidocaine and injected more in my arm. Then maybe 2 minutes later they started cutting. it wasnt as bad im sure as if i wasnt numbed but it hurt really bad. probably a 7/10 or 8/10 I audibly said "I can feel it" in distress and she held some cloth over it for a second and i started crying and shaking but i was still trying to stay still as best as i could. Then a minute later they kept going and i started getting very hot and sweating profusely because of the pain and i kept saying it hurts and i can feel it and finally they were done cutting, then they had to get the implant, they kept grabbing in my arm that i could still feel, then she said we need to cut more, so they did, and at this point they arent stopping so i just clench my jaw and bare through it hoping it ends soon. everything in my body is telling me to get out of this situation but there is nothing i can do, i remember it felt like it took a really long time but it could have just been the adrenaline, i was shaking and lightheaded and sweating and crying and finally the doctor switches places with the medical student after she tried to pull it out a few times and she grabs it and pulls it out and i breathed a huge sigh of relief knowing they didnt need to dig into it anymore, it was done, then they had to give me one stitch which also hurt slightly but not nearly as bad as when it started 4/10 pain. then i was trying to calm down i was still lightheaded and coming down from the adrenaline and somehow my belongings got onto the counter? i didnt put them there but i dont remember who or when they did, they took me to the waiting room and i sat in the chair for a few minutes staring at the wall trying to calm myself from the whole ordeal while they got my hip medicine. after that i went to my car and called my fiance and started bawling my eyes out before i drove home.

Thats my nexplanon implant removal story. I think it helped me a little to really think about what exactly happened and if you happen to read this, leave your story in the comments and ill read yours!

It's only now, in the middle of the night, that I realized I likely have medical trauma from my lifelong chronic constipation issues and, more severely, the multiple enemas I had to receive as a young child and preteen as a result.

I found this post which best articulates my experience and all the things I've been struggling with for years (especially stuff I'm not comfortable talking about), though I've also been struggling with intrusive thoughts about being raped and had a certain amount of paranoia from this during middle school. I've constantly wondered why I've always felt somewhat like a rape victim despite never being one.

To be a bit more graphic and personal, even as a kid, when I first learned about rape or even heard the word, I'd feel a phantom sensation of being penetrated, the exact same sensation I had when I received my first enema (as well as a slight botched one we had to have at home). I always felt confused as to why I had such a weird reaction to the topic of SA despite never being a victim. It's been weirdly comforting to realize that this experience was traumatic and it is okay to refer to it as such. That while I wasn't SA-ed, these feelings about things like sex are valid. I feel like maybe I can actually begin finding support and work on healing.

However, I have one big problem right now: my parents. I have a close bond with my parents, with my dad being someone I look to for guidance, and my mom being someone I turn to for support. Part of me wants to talk with them about this and how it has affected me mentally for years, but I'm worried about how they will react/feel. For one thing, the procedures were a last resort and medically necessary, since I had to be hospitalized and was physically unable to walk due to the pain until they finally gave the enema.

Years later, as a preteen, I ended up once again needing an enema, but this one had to be done at home. I cried and begged my mom not to give it to me, terrified and basically having a meltdown, but she insisted that there was literally no other options left. And honestly, she was right. We had tried everything and they didn't want me to be hospitalized again when they had the equipment at home. So I relented and finally let her. But it obviously didn't go great because she's not a professional. It didn't cause any severe damage, but it was much more uncomfortable than the first one.

As I said, my mom is one of my biggest emotional supports, and I love her to no end. I also know that my parents didn't want me to have these enemas, but there were no other options. Believe me, we tried. So I feel guilty about telling them how traumatic this was for me, since they saw it as them doing what was best for me, and my mom gave me one herself. I'm worried they will feel guilty about it despite me not blaming them for any of it (it was honestly no one's fault in my opinion), or that they might downplay it somewhat (again, possibly out of guilt, as they are human).

I don't know how to talk to them about this, and it's scary because I don't want to work through this alone anymore. Does anyone have any advice on how to talk about this? It'd also be nice to see others discuss their experiences with stuff like this.

Edit: So, I finally got the chance to talk to my dad, and it went a lot better than I expected. He was very calm and understanding, and when I brought up concerns about making them feel bad, he said I didn't need to worry about that, which is relieving, honestly. Turns out, my condition runs in the family, and my dad knows what it feels like to go through that experience, so he understands how it can feel traumatizing and violating even when it's medically necessary. I'm glad we're on the same page and I can begin to work through some of my issues.

I had 8 VCUG from 2 to 6 years old, and after that I experienced long lasting urinary pain and incontinence. The episodes used to be worst and more frequent during childhood and my teenager years, to the point that I wasn't able to go to school, and spended days sitting on bed sheets folded similar to a diper, feeling the urine come out painfully in small amounts, knowing that if a tried to hold it the pain would be even worst. I had even periods of time with no control of my bladder during sleep, so I used to wet my bed like a baby every night, and I was a teenager during this episodes.

That shit really ruined me, I used to feel humiliated all the time, in pain, with no hope, since I had got to doctors over and over again and they always said that there was nothing wrong. I never tought that this was psycological consequence of the VCUG untill I was an adult.

As I got older It got better, I was able to finish high School, went to college, got married, but I was still in pain and struggling with incontinence in all those years, having episodes every time I got sad or distressed. Untill this day I still experience urinary pain frequently.

I recently found a website about other people who had VCUG as a child, but the majoritie of them have sex/relationship related issues (such vaginism). I didn't found anyone who developed the same problems I did. Untill few days ago only my parents really knew this part of my life, but I decide to talk about It because I need to know If I'm the only one who has this kind of damage from the procedure.

So, If you had VCUG as a child and experience something similar to me, please let me know.

I was only diagnosed with PTSD from medical trauma relatively recently:

I grew up with nocturnal epilepsy (epilepsy in my sleep; I never had grand mal seizures). My earliest memories are my parents shoving medication at me, having horrific side effects, being forced to stay on medication with terrible side effects for weeks or months until my parents would finally pull me off of them, only to repeat the cycle all over again with a new medication. This continued for years and I cycled through about 13 different epilepsy medications. I felt like I was poisoning myself my entire childhood, and to this day associate medication with poison. I ended up staying on Lamictal, which made me gain weight, which led me to develop very disordered eating patterns for the next decade and destroyed my self esteem. I was only able to develop a decent relationship with food and better self esteem after my epilepsy was finally declared in remission and I was able to come off of Lamictal. The very few other non-epileptic medications I've taken as an adult had bad side effects and I didn't stay on them, because I finally had the choice to not take medication. I tend to react badly to most meds and experience "rare" side effects.

I also was in the hospital a lot growing up for extended sleep studies/EEGs--like several weeks long at a time--where I'd basically be confined to a bed that whole time (you can't easily leave with your head connected to a bunch of electrodes). My parents prevented me from participating in sleep overs and certain sports growing up because they were afraid I'd have a seizure, so I missed out on school and "normal" kid stuff as well.

My greatest fear in life is being forced to take a medication with horrible side effects and having my bodily autonomy and choice taken away again. Unfortunately, I'm living my worst nightmare right now. I've been having weird nerve pain and keep getting bone fractures and teeth issues. I've seen several doctors who think I have an autoimmune disease. One doctor was leaning toward either rheumatoid arthritis or ankylosing spondylitis. All of the conditions they've considered are treated with immunosuppressant drugs that are extremely well known to have horrible side effects. And I also happen to have OCD, specifically in regards to germs. I ended getting diagnosed with PTSD recently because I've been breaking down sobbing in fear repeatedly throughout the day because I'm so overcome with sheer terror at having to take these medications. I can't go back through endlessly cycling through medications and experiencing horrible side effects. But if you have a progressive autoimmune disease, you have no choice. You either take the medications or let the disease destroy your body. I've never felt more trapped in my entire life. I'm not even that religious, but I've been praying to any god out there that I'll get diagnosed with anything that does not require medication. I feel like my life is over. I know I probably sound crazy, but I'm literally paralyzed with terror.

The cherry on top of this whole shit show is I live with my dad (I can't work right now, unfortunately) and he just does not have the emotional capacity to be empathetic about my situation. I've tried to explain to him how my past experiences with medication have scarred me and made me so terrified, and he frankly doesn't care. Any time I cry, he'll yell at me to "Grow up; adults don't cry!". A few days ago I was telling him about a doctor's appointment that was extremely scary due to the doctor basically flat out telling me I had an autoimmune disease. I didn't mean to cry, but I was so scared I ended up crying. He told me "Enough of the drama!" and I tried to tell him it's not drama, it's fear, but all he said was "No it's not, it's drama". I've never felt so invalidated, insulted, and alone in my life. I don't have any other family and if I don't live with him, I'd be on the street. I feel like my world has completely collapsed on me.

I experienced medical trauma several years ago. I had undiagnosed gallbladder disease and ended up having to see 10 different doctors, having 20+ tests, and tried tons of different medications over the course of a year. I felt betrayed by the medical system and most doctors were unhelpful or straight up gaslit me. I also have a phobia of needles and vomiting which didn't help (my primary symptom was severe chronic nausea). Long story short, I diagnosed myself with gallbladder disease and found a surgeon willing to operate. My gallbladder did in fact end up being the culprit (confirmed post op) and I was doing much better after.

Fast forward to now. I've been having more health problems (POTS and CFS) and have started the process of trying different medications (it was all lifestyle changes up until now). My PCP has been great so far but she is not a specialist in my conditions and wants me to see other doctors. I would be fine just trying different medications with her supervision but she's uncomfortable with that. I am starting to relive the trauma as more specialists keep getting added to the plan, each with their own set of tests and medications they want. I feel like I'm on the verge of a never ending cycle of tests and new doctors and I'm not handling it well at all (with chronic conditions you never really "arrive" at a solution so there's no definitive end to tests and trialing medications). It's like my gallbladder year of hell has started again, where I'm pressured from every direction to just go with whatever doctors say. If I refuse then I forfeit the ability to try the medications I want, and my family will resent me for not doing everything the doctors suggest.

My family tries to be supportive but they don't really understand. They just tell me to go to therapy to help me overcome my trauma so that it doesn't have to be as hard this time. To them, there's a reality where needles don't bother me and I can live without anxiety over my next test or trying my next medication. The problem is I'm terrified of adding to the trauma. If I end up with a good therapist I agree that maybe they could help me. However, if I allow myself to be vulnerable and share my painful experiences with a therapist and they don't respond well, I fear I will be cut so deep that my trauma will completely take over. I just can't risk being hurt in that way. I'm feeling incredibly alone and helpless right now and I know I'm not the only one here who feels this way.

I'm looking for any resources, but I haven't found anything. I'd really like to be able to connect with people working on healing their medical trauma.

Hi everyone,

I just wanted to thank everyone who provided such compassionate and actionable advice. I just came from the lab. I was well hydrated, got off the train a few stops early to get some more walking in for bloodflow, wore a sweater and little adhesive boot warmers on the inside of both elbows. I walked the whole way moving my arms and clenching and unclenching my fists.

First thing I did was talk to the receptionist about my fear/anxiety. She was super understanding and we all had a little giggle about how everyone behind the desk was terrified of needles.

When I was called back, I immediately recognized the phlebotomist from the last time I was there (and had a panic attack, through no fault of hers). She let me adjust the seat so my feet were flat on the floor and I could focus on the feeling of my feet in my shoes and my connection to the ground. I asked for a butterfly needle and she said that's all she ever uses. I told her the palpating/tapping/feeling around for a vein is the worst part for me, so she did that very minimally, then stuck the needle in quickly and expertly. Only needed one tube for the exam so it was LIGHTNING FAST. I couldn't get over how easy it was after all the late preparation, and now even if my fear subsides I will always do those things to make the process easier.

Thank you again, so much, for all of the advice.

Hi all, longtime medical trauma veteran here, wondering if anyone has good strategies for dealing with a newfound fear of needles (specifically, bloodwork).

I'm 35 and have had complex medical issues all my life. I've never had a fear of needles before, despite some gnarly stories I could tell, between routine bloodwork, long hospital stays, and voluntary blood donation. However, lately I've been having a lot of trouble every time I need to have blood drawn (which is pretty often). So far I've had two panic attacks, and I'm already nervous about an exam I have coming up this Friday morning. It's to test my cortisol levels, so I'm checking with my specialist but I suspect I can't pop a klonopin to get through this one.

For me, the main thing is the tapping. If they could just look me in the eye and stick the needle in my arm, I'd be fine. But having to hold my arm unnaturally taut, pumping my fist, and having them just tap over and over trying to find a vein. I hydrate like crazy before bloodwork, but they still always seem to have trouble and there is always a long interlude of TAPPING. My therapist says that one of the issues is that I had so much done to me medically as a child, which was for my benefit, but ultimately against my will, and that putting myself in vulnerable situations like exposing the crook of my arm can be retraumatizing. But I don't know that recognizing that is helping me to deal with it. So! I'm looking for advice from anyone else who has experienced this.

tl;dr I'm 35 and suddenly afraid of needles, but I'm chronically ill and need bloodwork semi-regularly. How do I cope?

I wanted to share my experience with what I believe might be PTSD after surgery. I was on a regular exercise routine when one day, while pushing myself hard, I experienced ovarian torsion. The pain was unlike anything I’ve ever felt—like a sudden pop that left me in shock. I ended up needing emergency surgery to remove four dermoid ovarian cysts—three on my left side and one on the right. This had been an ongoing issue for me since 7th grade, causing referred pain that sometimes made it hard to walk. I had to go to the hospital multiple times for this, and I even experienced vomiting and flu-like symptoms, which led to missing days of school.

That whole week in the hospital felt like a blur due to the medications. I barely remember it. I was so out of it that I couldn’t even tell you what month it was—maybe March. I didn’t wake up until after the surgery, but I remember my dad being there despite our complicated relationship. The doctors listed possible complications, which was terrifying. At one point, I could have sworn I heard them tell my mom they were going to take my ovaries out—definitely a sign of how loopy I was.

After the surgery, the pain and exhaustion were overwhelming. I felt like something was missing inside me, and I struggled with basic things like using the bathroom and eating. I could barely stay awake for more than 30 minutes, and I had to walk around the floor to regain my strength. I was 17 at the time and had prom less than a month later. I forced myself to go, even though I was still recovering. It was fun, but I felt off and winded, and at one point, I had to sit down for an hour.

Now, over a year later, I still deal with on-and-off pain around my incision area. It ranges from sharp, stabbing pains to a dull, persistent ache. When this happens, I often find myself out of breath and in tears—not necessarily from the pain, but from the exhaustion it brings. I haven’t exercised regularly since the surgery, even though I could if I wanted to. I feel this sense of dread whenever I experience pain in that area, which adds to the tears. It’s like a part of me changed after that experience.

I know this might seem dramatic, but I’m wondering if anyone else has gone through something similar. Is this normal? I’d really appreciate hearing from anyone who has experienced similar feelings after surgery.

Thank you for listening.

I have oral surgery coming up. I have cptsd and Quite a bit of medical trauma, so they are putting me under general anesthesia and sedation. I was worried about being SA before even looking at the stats. Now my anxiety about everything is so much worse. Idk what to do?? I could ask for nitros and sedation buuuut I feel that would make my anxiety sky rocket I fight sleeping meds to the point of hallucinating (again trauma). I can’t have them just numb it because that where this particular trauma steams from. Again idk what to do.. any ideas on how I could mark or prevent my pant/underwear from coming off? I know that sound bizarre but if you experienced as much r*ped as I have this would make sense. Please help me before I just cancel and let my wisdom teeth just rot in my skull.

Just a quick edit: had my oral surgery yesterday, I was able to have a friend in the room with me until I passed out, clothes stayed on (I didn’t have to change into a gown, just take my facial jewelry out) the whole surgical staff (they travel so they work with my dentist not actually apart of the office) was extremely gentle with me, eased any fears, the surgeon was actually so thorough with my medical history just to make double check the offices work and make sure nothing happened. Everyone asked for my triggers and what would make me comfortable (so they were trauma informed). It was as good of an experience one can have after getting your teeth yanked out 🤣

Also don’t know if other people don’t know this but it’s typically the fentanyl you get with general anesthesia that typically makes someone throw up upon waking up, I was only giving ketamine, propafal (sp) and something to help me relax into it all (I don’t recall the name) and zofran.

I was hella nervous so I got educated 🤣🤣 and again thanks for those who commented and gave advice 🫶

Does anyone feel their already existing medical trauma exacerbated by short tempered doctors? I have a long and painful history with medical gaslighting and errors resulting in some pretty horrific outcomes for me. There are some doctors/clinics that I have to attend despite having this history with them because I don't have any other options at this time. My blood pressure tends to jump as soon as I enter the room. In fact, during this last appointment, my blood pressure was measured during a test and it was a comfortable 123/94. I was in a great mood and relaxed. Not 45 minutes later, I am at the clinic and my blood pressure has jumped to 167/94. Ugh. I absolutely dread this clinic. I'm a bit early and expecting to wait (always do here) but they call me in 10 minutes early since I"m there and ready. Weight, history, meds, etc....then I wait. And wait. And wait. There are three rooms. Only two have patients in them (one is me). I hear the doctor going to the other room. Then other patients come in. The doctor goes to the other, now full, room. And more patients come in as others leave. Back and forth, completing bypassing my room every time. After an hour, we open the door and the nurse rushed in to clean the room and saw us still sitting there. She seems surprised and asks if we have been seen yet, to which we answer, no, and explained we opened the door to make sure we hadn't been missed inadvertently. And still the doctor skips the room. After almost 2 hours sitting in an exam room, I decide I have had enough and am leaving. Context: Up before 5 am to be there in time for bloods, then x rays, then ecg, then echocardiogram with contrast. Can't eat before testing and can't take meds without food. I'm diabetic and have fibromyalgia. So after almost two hours, I have a massive migraine, my hands are trembling, I'm in a lot of pain, hungry and thirsty and exhausted. So we head out to reception desk and the nurse in is a tizzy. My husband is angry and indicates how ridiculous it seems to sit in an exam room for two hours with no communication, particularly when EVERYONE else that was in the waiting room with me except for one patient (who the doctor is now with) is GONE. The waiting room is empty. The nurse is trying to interrupt the doctor and I have asked her not to do so but she does anyway and while I'm rescheduling, the doctor comes STORMING out of the exam room and is yelling at me. YELLING. He's on his own and doing his best and what is wrong with me and what do you want - I was shocked. Apparently, the other clinic doctor called in sick. I calmly indicated I was merely rescheduling the appointment. He makes a sound of absolutely disgust and turns around and walks back into the room. This is not the first time I have been on the receiving end of that kind of treatment but this one just hit me harder. I cried all the way home. And now the thought of going back makes me physically ill. I'm so stressed out. I understand he is busy and things happen, but a little communication goes a long way. I needed food and hydration. If he was two hours behind, how hard would it be to tell me to go get a coffee an come back? Or reschedule my appointment? And why did he go through EVERY patient despite my 10:00 appointment time? I hate the fact that I'm now afraid to go back and this will cause more stress. Which I don't need. Does this happen to anyone else?

Maybe I just need to scream into the void. I'm not diagnosed with anything specifically that's causing my current issues. Am I just broken by the last few years, or is there something physically wrong inside me still? Both possibilities terrify me.

I had a much longer post typed up, but I guess the medical history doesn't matter. The short version is my throat stopped working and letting food into my stomach. After the surgery to fix it, I got a UTI. After they thought the UTI was over (I said something feels wrong, they said drink more water) I became septic and my kidney swelled up like a balloon and destroyed itself. While waiting to have it removed I developed a hernia (initially told it was cramps). That was all rapid fire in short succession. Then last Christmas I was vomiting blood (ulcer). And through all this I was upset, but I just pushed through.

More recently I started getting a feeling like I was short of breath. Go in to get checked out, and nothing with the lungs or heart looks weird. One time the feeling develops into full blown panic. I can't think. I can barely respond to questions or form coherent sentences. More intensive follow up has really seemed to rule out lungs or heart. I'm suspicious of the stomach/esophagus causing a problem, and that's where the doctors are looking now.

My problem is, the anxious feelings are getting worse and worse. I feel like I'm losing control of myself. Every little twinge inside gets my heart racing. I've been to the ER twice in full blown panics and they can't see anything obviously life threatening. They give me an anti anxiety med and after a bit I'm able to just pass out, and I wake up feeling better, and would manage fine for a few weeks.

The problem is, the panic is coming more frequently now. And I don't know what to think or do anymore... Is it a natural reaction to a physical issue inside my guts that they just haven't figure out? Have I just mentally broken? There was no specific emotional trigger to the start of all this. It had been months since the last issue (the ulcer), and now I feel like I'm losing my mind. I'm so terrified that there's never going to be an answer, and this will be my life. I took the last xanax they gave me to use while they're diagnosing me (6 .25mg pills total) tonight because I felt it all creeping up on me again. I'm just rambling now, but I'm just truly truly terrified anymore and wondering if this sounds at all familiar to anyone else. The out of nowhere feeling. Not being sure if it's actually a mental issue or there's still just something physically wrong inside you...

I have been having a hard time in the morning right when I wake up. The moment I realize I am coherent after sleeping all night, I fall into a spiral of negative thoughts and emotions. The am is the worse I feel all day. I am two years post trauma and just had to have an oral surgery this past Monday where I had a full blown panic attack before the procedure.

Does anyone else have this feeling of impending doom in the morning and if so, what are some tools that have worked for you to get past that morning panic?