I have a RL restraint nighare anecdote. On December 22, a little after 12 am, I was brought to the ER unconscious from carbon monoxide inhalation, preceded by ingesting a hand full of Trazadone (ineffectively prescribed me for insomnia two years earlier.)
I came to briefly, to hear them say to me that they're sticking tubes down my throat. For some reason I felt impelled to state that I tested positive for a recently devised test for Sjogern's Syndrome. (I don't know why except for no saliva production).I said, "I've got, I've got. I've got.." Unable to remember Sjogerns, I was interrupted by a prissy, effeminate make nurse, who snapped, "Did you ever hear the story of the boy who cried wolf?"
I had no sense of vision (or my eyes were maybe stuck shut) but there was some dialogue they brought up about my landlord (the one who found me, called 911, but who actually made the rental situation unbearably toxic). I remarked that I didn't want to be naked, & the prissy nurse snapped, "you're not naked, you're wearing a hospital gown!" (Even worse, too damn effeminate, I'd chose naked over a gown any day, & I knew my privates we're being messed with.) Still unable to see, I felt the catheter up my urethra (one of my worse fears) & yanked it out. (Ouch!) Then the prissy male nurse yells. "Oh my God! He pulled it out!" Then bedlam, & I was out like a light!
As I was coming to it was all hallucinatory, like being trapped in a primitive early 90s video war game. Images were pixely, in hunter green & black. I felt desperately held prisoner forever with no escape, & wondering what they wanted with me, & what was so damn important with my damn privates they needed to pay so much attention to. Theyre mine not their's, & I'm not their possession!
December 27, at about 2 pm I regained full consciousness in the ICU. I was on my back, my hands in padded mittens & tied to the bed. I was fully lucid when the nurse explained that I was restrained for pulling out the catheter when I was delerious in the ER. Shortly my assigned doctor came in & asked if I wanted to go home right then (!) I should have, but replied thst I felt weak & would benefit from getting back my strength.
The doctor left, but they didn't untie me, & I remained restrained for 48 more hours, & kept in that one, single position in agonizing back pain all that time. Obviously I was no longer delerious. I was lucid enough to go home, but not lucid enough to be untied? When my assigned attending nurse entered, she inquired (with a thick accent) "is he combative?" The answer was unequivocally. "NO!" Yet they kept me in that state.
The attending nurse did nothing but sit in a chair, watch me, fed me just a little. But mostly her job was to check my privates. Still catheterized, & with the beginning of a urethral infection, & diapered, she frequently washed the area over & over. She checked my rear for poop, but not eating anything there wasn't any poop. But I was constantly checked & scrubbed.
Soon that bitchy male nurse made a brief appearance. He scrubbed my infected privates, saying loudly, "Oh. It's so gross & disgusting!"
So, I had my private nurse attending to my genitals, but nothing out of anyone's medfet fantasy! She was most likely a foreign H1V visa import, brought here to bust the good California Nurses Union. Poorly mannered, she could barely understand or speak English. When she abrasively scrubbed my genitals, my protests that she was hurting my chronically inflamed right testicle weren't understood, or they were simply ignored. I hated her, & the other nurses (all imports) weren't better.
I was freezing. I was sedentary, but they had the air conditioner on to accommodate the active staff (in December!). They just threw more blankets over me, but exposed parts of my face & body were ice cold. They didn't care.
The back pain was unbearable my last day there. I was vociforously reminding them that if you tether a dog the way they had me, the SPCA would arrest them for animal cruelty. I had less rights than a fucking dog. Ultimately the social worker came in. & I successfully convinced her it was a quality of life issue, no mental illness, just situational. And I went home. It took three weeks for the back, hip, knee & shoulder pain to go away.
Obviously, those last 48 hours tied up wasn't a precaution for my own safety. I was lucid, not delerious, & not combative. It was strictly a PUNITIVE measure, for my having the nerve to yank that catheter out. They were disgusted with me, as that pussy nurse made clear when he washed me.
Subsequently abuse, or malpractice lawyer will hear me out. Catastrophic injury only. Too bad I'm not a dog, as I'm sure there's be plenty of advocates addressing that issue on my behalf!