I screen-capped this a little while back, thought you all might enjoy. Thank you so much, to the person who donated the 5k Z-Tokens. Also a thank you to all others who contributed during the contest.
First off, my apologies. I didn't mean to make this post ridiculously long. I tried to describe this experience the best I could along with my thoughts. If you feel like reading a story on akathisia, here's one. For context, I'm 33 years old, male, and live in the USA.
I was in the ER one morning a bit over a week ago for severe, crippling chest pain that spread to my back, right shoulder and neck. Legitimately thought I was having a heart attack (family history of it on mother's side), but kept myself composed mentally. The cause was never found, but the pain was bad enough that I couldn't breathe deeply or lift my arm. It was almost unbearable, but eventually it started subsiding after a couple of hours. I also have a hiatal hernia (basically, stomach goes partially into the chest cavity), which tends to add nausea to whatever else I'm feeling. So, just before leaving the ER, one of the staff wanted to give me droperidol since I "still seem uncomfortable" (I was a bit hunched over to rest while the pain went away). I accepted, even after declining nearly every other med offered. At the time I knew absolutely nothing about droperidol, or akathisia (AKA hell on Earth x10+).
At some point before offering the injection, she stared at me and asked if I had any history of anxiety or homicidal/self-harming tendencies. This caught me off guard, since I always made it a point to stay calm, quiet and composed during rough experiences, and especially in public. I haven't had an anxiety problem since high school. I was friendly with everyone I interacted with in the ER, and gave no reason to suspect I was problematic. I stared back in her eyes (to make my honesty clear) and said "no". I don't want to believe it, since she was very kind otherwise, but I feel like she knew this would happen. She didn't warn me of the side effect either, so I learned about it the hard way.
Right after the droperidol was injected through the IV, I was given my papers, released, and headed to the car with my mother (who effectively saved me from ambulance bills). As soon as I got in the car, the nightmare began. I got this alarming, overwhelming feeling that something was going horribly wrong. I started losing control of both my mind and body, and lost the ability to say more than one or two words at a time. Couldn't hold still or find a comfortable position to save my life. My mother was understandably terrified and said we should go back into the ER. However, since I was trapped in a whole world of terrible sensations, I demanded (politely), in broken English, that we just go straight home. I needed to isolate myself from all stimulation at all costs. Do understand however - I didn't know what was happening, and it felt like nobody could fix this for me fast enough for it to be worth the agony of requesting help. There is always that high chance they wouldn't take me seriously, so it wasn't worth it to go back. I couldn't explain since I couldn't even focus, much less communicate.
I also got a phone call (automated/bot) about scheduling an unrelated appointment in the midst of all this. I gave it a full effort to handle it and failed. The bot talking so slowly and asking so many questions quickly drove me insane. I was delirious, restless and impatient as all hell, and had to just end the call.
Once I got home, I rushed and stumbled my way to my room, shut the door, and attempted to lie down and sleep it off. A minute later, I felt like it wasn't helping and felt a strong impulse to try walking around. A minute after that, I felt a similar urge, but to lie down instead. Back and forth. Occasionally I had to grab my trash can because I kept retching despite not being particularly nauseous. All of this literally repeated for several hours until I was physically burned-out enough to fall asleep. During the transition into sleep, my mind reeled through nonsensical illusions, stories and plotlines that made no sense, while drifting through a haze of agony. I was in bed for 2 days straight.
A really odd thing about it is the lack of pain as we normally know it. It was weirdly painless, but extremely uncomfortable in a way where pain would have been much less awful. The crushing chest pain I had that I would rate a 9 out of 10 had nothing on this type of sensation. I was far worse off than when I first entered the ER. I had a tooth infection a couple decades or so ago that had me in tears from the pain, and I would gladly have taken that again, again, and again over what I just experienced. The usual descriptions of akathisia just don't quite do it justice, since this is something hard to describe in probably any language.
I never knew anything so horrible could exist. Sure, I understand there are countless brutal ways to live or die. I also understand what being anxious/panicked feels like, but this is something else ENTIRELY. It has nothing to do with mindset/choice, it's purely chemical-induced and will force you to lose access to the reasonable parts of your brain. Deep-breathing or attempting to distract yourself doesn't do a damned thing here. It made me actually consider suicide for relief, and that is something I just don't do. My opinion of suicide was always that it's just a tragic, bad decision. This here was a unique, soul-rending sensation that can't be understood unless you've actually had it. Once you do, you'd never subject someone to this unless you are a full-blown sociopath and have no conscience. Those who just casually administer this type of drug clearly don't have first-hand experience with this side effect.
Probably one of the worst things about akathisia is that it can outwardly make you look like you're having a panic attack, nervous breakdown, or just acting up and being difficult. Guess what that means, in a psych ward or hospital setting? It means even more meds, injections, and/or restraints to force you to shut up and stop moving. Akathisia forces you to move almost constantly and want to tear out of your own body, so this would lead to truly unimaginable torture. Reminds me a bit of that Freddy Krueger movie with all those kids in the psych ward as a result of no one else believing the reality of the situation. I'm glad I left and stayed home instead of ending up perpetually drugged and in never-ending hell.
I can only be thankful that it didn't go on for any longer than it did. It felt like my brain was soaked in adrenaline while being eaten by worms, and could neither cope with it, escape, or turn itself off. That's the best way I can describe it. I wasn't myself anymore and my mind went places it never has before. Never felt so helpless, confused and desperate in my life. The only thought that I could keep in my mind was the genuine hope that this wasn't permanent.
We visited the ER (just the front desk) some days later to ask what I'd been given, since it wasn't listed on my papers and I couldn't remember. Later, my mother called the ER's service desk or whatever on the phone for more info about droperidol, and was told that akathisia is an "expected" side effect. I'd bet my life that whoever decided this is acceptable has either never been through this, or is made of pure evil. Apparently droperidol has been banned before from the market for causing severe cardiovascular problems (definitely not good for me considering my family history). For some twisted reason it has been brought back as of 2019. I already knew human history is full of brutality and stupidity but this takes it up a few notches. When I learned that various other dopamine-blockers, like haloperidol (or Haldol) were used to incapacitate psych patients and torture war prisoners, it made my skin crawl. This shit needs to be sent to the sun or something and destroyed.
Why does this drug exist, when Zofran, for example, supposedly does just fine for nausea? I hate that I was never warned by the person who dosed me. In fact, this feels a bit personal. I've been in the ER two other times this year (once for chest pain, and again because one of my legs swelled up from another drug I was prescribed and I knew that a blood clot/embolism is a potentially fatal cause). Before this year, it's been probably over a decade since my last visit. Apparently, many healthcare workers like to conclude that either an anxiety disorder or a lack of mental fortitude is to blame for most problems. My experience as of the last 2 years has confirmed my suspicion on their views. I've been offered anxiety meds several times because the source of my symptoms (other than hiatal hernia) hasn't been found. So, maybe this was a sneaky way of punishing me for seemingly wasting their time, or maybe being a potential drug-seeker? That pisses me off. My time is valuable too, and I'm not playing here. I've been declining countless meds I'm being offered (typically anxiety/depression-related), because I want to understand and fix whatever condition is causing my symptoms, not treat something unrelated. I'll never again trust medications I haven't researched first. I'm going to be pursuing answers, because I can't forget this incident.
For all of you who are dealing with or have experienced akathisia, I am so sorry that this has happened to you. No living thing should ever go through something like this. Hopefully you can all find a way out of this without loss of life.