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Every word of the following narrative is, to the best of my knowledge and that of witnesses, accurate. If any of can be proven to be otherwise, I will correct the record.

It is rather unpleasant. I will not apologize, because it should not have happened and the persons responsible should be held accountable. That will happen if I have support from the numerous other people who have had similar experiences. They are invited to contact victimsofacch.org using the contact page on the site. All information will be completely private and will not be disclosed without permission from the contributor.

 

On ★★ ★★★★★★★★ 20★★ I was taken by ambulance from my office to the Arkansas Methodist Hospital in Paragould, Arkansas. Due to the necessity for heart surgery I was transported to St. Bernards Medical Center in Jonesboro, Arkansas. After successful surgery I was transported to the Arkansas Continued Care Hospital in Jonesboro (hereinafter referred to as ACCH) on 15 ★★★★★★★ 20★★.  

From the time I left my office on ★★ ★★★★★★★★ 20★★ until sometime in ★★★★★ 20★★ I have no memory whatsoever. I have been told by witnesses (visitors both at St. Bernards and Arkansas and ACCH) that I sometimes interacted with them by speech, but I have no memory of it. The first memory I have is of some time in ★★★★★ 20★★, when I for the first time became cognizant of my situation.  

I was in a hospital and that was all I knew for some hours or days. I now know that I had been under the influence of various drugs since I arrived (on ★★ ★★★★★★★) and that it was only at this time (early ★★★★★) that the drugs had been reduced sufficiently for me to regain consciousness.  

During the next several weeks I was visited regularly by my two sisters. Because of 'Covid' only one of them was allowed in, so they came on alternate days, an approximately one-hour drive each way.  

I would later learn that I had been, for the past six to seven weeks, administered a variety of psychotropic drugs used for treat mental illnesses such as psychosis, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia and others. I had not then or at any time since been diagnosed as having any form of mental illness. I was sent there because of kidney failure caused at an error at the hospital in Paragould. At the time, however, the only thing I knew was that I was in a hospital.  

I do not remember if I was tied to the bed when I first became conscious, but it is one of my earliest memories of the experience. By tied to the bed I mean exactly that. The types of restraints that would normally be used in a hospital such as padded belts, cuffs, straps with buckles, etc. were not used. What appeared to be strips of fabric as would be parts of bedsheets were tied around my wrists and ankles and attached to wire which was secured to the bed frame. The wire looked like two twisted strands of perhaps one to two millimeters, causing pain and abrasion. I was told that I was restrained because I either fell or climbed out of the bed and dislodged a feeding tube (more on that later) and they did not want me to move. If I did so I was not conscious at the time and I asked them numerous times not to tie me. They continued to do so for almost the entire time I was there. I was told by a family member who visited me that on one occasion she arrived to find me with my left arm twisted into an unnatural and painful (I was vocally expressing the pain - I was apparently conscious enough to feel it) and the nurse was completely unconcerned and only after repeated requests did she rearrange my position. On another occasion she came in to find me, totally naked and uncovered (apparently by intent) tied to the bed. She demanded that they clothe and cover me, which they did, complaining that they 'couldn't keep a diaper on him'. To this day I have limited use of my left arm  

As I became able to observe my environment I noticed a number of things. The place was clearly unsanitary, and I can only remember the bed linens being changed maybe two or three times while I was there. I was administered a sponge bath about that many times. The uniforms, and general appearance of the staff, did not seem especially clean either. There were some exceptions, and two or three of the nurses tried to make me comfortable, but for the most part their attitude was that they regarded me as a nuisance to be treated with as little effort as possible. One in particular, I don't believe he was a nurse although later he was apparently doing their duties, was quite abusive. He was quite large and strong, and his method of positioning me on the bed where he thought I should be was to rather roughly push, pull, or lift and drop me. Judging from his behavior and overheard conversations he was having with other staff, I suspect he had mental problems. He certainly did not need to be working in such a place. All of this time the aforementioned feeding tube was still attached, several feet of tubing protruding from my abdomen and requiring care in moving me and limiting my ability to find a comfortable position to sleep. This in a dirty bed while wearing a dirty gown seldom changed.  

Enough of that for now. A couple of weeks into this I was unable to see any way of getting out. I didn't know why I was there or what it would take to convince them to let me leave. I was (aside from being tied to the bed most of the time and being given awful food and being in a filthy environment) not especially uncomfortable. Of course I had not get tried to get out of bed. I was still being administered various drugs each day and was having dreams that continued as hallucinations for some time after I was awake, so apparently I was still getting some of the drugs that caused that.  

A quick note here. Once I became aware of my situation - that they were apparently willing to leave me there indefinitely - I began asking to see the doctor. Supposedly he was making the rounds each morning, and when I asked the staff to be sure he came in and talked to me, he never did. I called each day and asked to see him, and was told he would be making his rounds at 0700. Each day I lay in bed watching the door, not wanting to be asleep when he came (not that they should not have awakened me if I was) and not once did he come.  

During the entire time I was unable to access a phone or computer, and my only means of communication was my visitors. If I had had no one to help me, I would by now be either dead, or beyond any hope of recovery.  

By now my family members were trying to get me out, but they were told I was not ready to leave or given any idea of when I would be. They began making preparations to have me moved to an actual rehabilitation facility (this one quite obviously was not functioning for that purpose, whatever it was supposed to be) and they began to make some pretense of therapy. Which is to say that they had two of the staff, one who was supposedly a physical therapist and another large person whose function was to keep me in a vertical position when they got me out of the bed. I was at this time completely incapable of standing without assistance, and the effort of both were required to keep me standing. These sessions occurred only two or possibly three times each week. Eventually I was able to walk a short distance, and by the time I left I could use a walker with someone close enough to prevent me from falling (a constant danger).  

A final observation. The entire time I was confined I had a feeding tube which was being used, after I had been awake for about a week, for administering drugs. I also had a telemetry device of some sort, a large box which aggravated the discomfort I was experiencing. It appeared to be serving no useful purpose as it was usually turned off or had one of more of the wires disconnected. When I was discharged, the feeding tube was not removed for absolutely no reason but negligence. I was told it could not be removed until I had completed a 'swallow test'. This was done well before I was discharged. I went home with it still in place. I then had to see my doctor, who could not remove it without the swallow test, so I had to go to the hospital in Paragould and have the test performed again. It was then necessary to make an appointment with a doctor in Jonesboro, who was not available for the date and time for which the appointment was made. When I went on the newly appointed date, the nurse told me the insertion location appeared to be infected and suggested that the procedure would be painful, suggesting I take antibiotics for two weeks. I did so, and eventually, approximately six weeks after leaving the hospital, the tube was removed.  

As observed earlier, being unconscious (not in a coma but drugged) for well over a month, and then having no attempts at physical therapy, I was severely physically debilitated. Once I was no longer being drugged and was out of the hospital, I was able to regain some of my ability to walk, although I cannot safely do so without a cane. If I fall, it is extremely difficult to get up without being near some object (furniture, etc.) so that I can use my arms and hands. I also have difficulty maintaining my balance when standing. I am still unable to write or even print legibly, even carefully and slowly, and have difficulty speaking coherently or sometimes at all.  

My memory has been severely affected, to the point that I can remember almost nothing about the work I was doing before. I was a systems analyst, and my work required me to understand and analyze problems with computer code, protocols, the ability to configure complex equipment and software. Even if I could go back to work now, it is extremely unlikely I would be able to resume my work within a reasonably amount of time, if it all. I also have difficulty in retaining memories of new events. Thus, I am both mentally and physically unemployable. More accurately, I have been chemically lobotomized.  

Besides the foregoing, I was incapacitated for about two months longer than would have been necessary if not for the actions of ACCH. I should have been able to leave by the end of ★★★★★★★, instead it was near the end of ★★★★★ when I was finally released. As a result, I became unemployed, and most of my bills had gone unpaid for three months, long enough to degrade my credit rating. I was fortunate not to have all of my credit card accounts closed, as several were. I was deprived of the last three or four productive years of my life, a loss of more than a quarter million dollars in income, and I incurred many more thousands of dollars in expenses related to my experience. And being forced to retire several years before my age for maximum Social Security benefits has cost me much more. And I am now physically disabled as well.  

Last updated: Sat 24 Sep 2022 05:39:09 PM CDT