Why does this happen?

I do have PTSD.... Something happened that blew me away... could you guys tell me what you think?

Years ago, maybe 20 I was hit by a pick-up truck while I was crossing the street. I was crossing as I should, with the WALK light.
The pickup truck was doing right turn on red light and smacked into me. I flew under his truck. He had to back up so I could get out. I had bruises, scraps and spained ankle.
I went into shock and he drove off.

Fast forward 20 years. I was walking across busy intersection with "WALK" light, slipped and fell. Didn't really hurt myself but couldn't seem to get up. I crawled from middle of intersction to sidewalk. Cars were waiting for me to get out of way. Though I wasn't hurt, I was in shock. The firemen had to help me to bring me out of shock - this took a long time.

So is this "shock" a result of PTSD? I wasn't thinking of th
e truck accident of years ago. during the fall or after. I was just was non-responsive, couldn't walk, my body temp. went way down and for a long time I was incoherent.
The fall during the walk I think was worse for me than the truck accident.

Is this some kinda weird flashback?

Would really like your opinions....

Hugs to all, freewill

((( freewill )))

That sounds so frightening. I'm sorry that happened to you. I have gone through similar eperiences.

It sounds like a body memory/response to the previous trauma, but I am no expert. My T always says "the body remembers."

There are quite a few books out there on this subject that may help you understand how the chemicals in your brain actually change and respond to the reminder of the trauma etc.

The Trauma Spectrum: Hidden Wounds and Human Resiliency by Robert C. Scaer

The Body Remembers: The Psychophysiology of Trauma and Trauma Treatment by Babette Rothschild

Waking the Tiger : Healing Trauma : The Innate Capacity to Transform Overwhelming Experiences by Peter A. Levine

Healing Trauma: A Pioneering Program for Restoring the Wisdom of Your Body by Peter A. Levine

The Body Remembers Casebook: Unifying Methods and Models in the Treatment of Trauma and PTSD by Babette Rothschild

Reposted with permission from freewill so as not to hijack her thread.

I wrote this after my husband had surgery and a bad reaction to medication. It shows how the past and present are always intertwined in my life.

EVERY NOW AND THEN

Now
"You can see him," a non-descript nurse in scrubs said as she scurried by. The cement-block wall that was holding me up was cold. As was the nurse. As was the corridor. I made sure to get some air deep into my lungs before I stepped into the recovery room. Sometimes I forget to breathe.

At first glance my husband looked fine. A half-groggy smile of recognition fell across his face when he opened his eyes. "Hi hon," he slurred before he drifted off to sleep again.

"Okay, we're gonna sit you up and get you dressed so you can go home," the non-descript nurse said. Maybe this won't be so bad after all. She slipped an arm behind his back and sat him up.

We'd been at the hospital for three and a half hours now, just long enough for a drive-by shoulder surgery. The doctor told me all had gone well and gave me instructions on what to do once I got him home. "Get him in the chair for a few hours," he'd told me. The chair, a clunky-looking, electronic arm-raising contraption that had been delivered the day before.

"I, ah, I, ca-can't b-b-breathe," my husband stutters to the nurse. My heart flips. I see panic on his ashen white face as he tries to draw a breath. Then another. He is gasping now; the nurse tries to calm him down. "It's just a reaction to the medication," she assures him. I hold my breath and brace myself against the low clang-clang of my warning bell that has begun to ring. I hold my breath as my husband struggles to catch his.
In a flash I am gone.

Then
I sit up lightning fast when my heart stops ticking and starts pounding instead. I hear a loud, rattling gurgle and I know this is not another dream. Alarmed, I scramble out of bed sensing danger. Anxiety twists my stomach tight around my lungs till I stop breathing, then rushes me to my brother's room where I flip on the light. Stephen's chest is heaving. Up and up it rises as he tries to draw an impossible breath.

Now
"Are you in pain?" the nurse asks and I am back. I check to make sure my feet are firmly on the ground. "I'm going to get him a blanket and something for the pain," she says and disappears. Through his chattering teeth and blue lips he tries to spit out words and draw in some air. "I, ah, uh, I" get blended together with whirs, beeps and whooshes of machinery. I reach out to rub his arm, stroke his forehead, anything to try and reassure him. "It's okay, hon," I say unconvincingly as my whole body shakes. When the skin on my fingertips makes contact with his I pull my hand away so fast that I'm startled. He's so damn cold.

The nurse is back with the anesthesiologist who calls my husband buddy and reminds him he is having a reaction to the medication. "Remember we talked about it? Remember I told you it might seem like you can't breathe?" My gasping, gurgling husband can barely nod. The nurse puts the pill on his tongue and holds the plastic cup full of water to his lips. "Swallow," she gently persuades him. He is asleep in minutes. I am shaken to the core.

Then
A burnt bottle cap and a hypodermic needle are on his night-stand. "Stephen?" No response. I see his lips are purple. "Oh my God, Stephen!" I move in slow motion and touch his cold, clammy arm then jerk my hand back with fright. I have touched the dead.

With rubbery legs I fall into Brian and David's room, trying not to panic. "Brian wake up, there's something wrong with Stephen. Damn it Brian! WAKE UP!" But he's high on heroin and doesn't react right away. "David! GET UP! There's something wrong with Stephen." David opens his eyes and hears the gurgle. He rushes into Stephen's room, takes one look and slaps him across the face. Hard. I turn my face to the wall and try to escape by pushing into it with all my might.

Now
When hubby wakes, he is wobbly but breathing without trouble. I am nervous to take him home so soon. I have not regrouped yet from the breathing mishap and I am not a medical professional. My danger alarm is still ringing as I get him in the car. And pull away with instructions to call if I have any questions. I drive real slow, afraid that a bump will hurt him. I don't want to hurt him.

"I'm not feeling so well," he tells me in the middle of a busy intersection.

"Do you need me to pull over?" I ask, thinking he might need to throw up.

When he doesn't answer I look over and find he is slumped forward in the seat. "Hon?" He's passed out. My heart is pounding yet I am still thinking clearly. I am in crisis mode, my hands are trembling, yet I signal safely and turn. I don't know what to do. I'll call 911. I'll ask someone for help. Oh please don't let him die.

Then
I don't know what to do, where to go, how to help. I want to wake my mother up but don't want her to see this. Brian is up now, sitting on Stephen's chest. Slap - Slap - "Stephen, wake up" Slap - Slap. I don't understand why they're hurting him. Please oh - please don't slap the dying.

Now
"I really think I need to go home," Peter says when he opens his eyes and sees we're in a parking lot. I try to sound calm when I answer but my fingers gripping the steering wheel have cut off all circulation and now I'm the one who feels like passing out.

Home sweet home and he's feeling better. He looks like hell. I get him into the chair to start his exercises. The slow mechanical arm lifts his and within seconds he's feeling ill. "I don't feel so good. I think I'm gonna throw up." But before I can even grab the bucket, he passes out.

Then
"I’m going downstairs to get Ma." Hysteria pulses through my veins and catches in my throat.

"No! Don't wake her up! And no cops," Brian warns.

"Get a bucket of water! Now!" David snaps, but I see his eyes are pleading.

Off I go down the curved wooden staircase, putting extra lead in my feet in hopes of waking my mother, who sleeps on the sofa since Dad died. I clang pots and pans around, find a large bowl and fill it with cold water. I’m trying to hurry when I hear her voice come from the darkness in the living room.

"What is it? What’s wrong?" I hear panic in those simple words.

"Something's wrong with Stephen. He can't breathe and he's turning blue," I sputter, relieved she's awake but so damn sad this is all happening.

Now
"Oh my God! Hon!" The panic has taken over when I see he has bitten down on his tongue. His eyes are open and rolled back in his head. I try to open his mouth. Try to pry open that clamped jaw so he doesn't choke to death on his vomit. Choke on his vomit and die like my brother. A voice yells, screams at me. Open his mouth so he won't die! But I can't. He's going to die and I can't save him. Slap-slap-slap. "Damn it, wake up!" I command. Slap-slap.

Then
It's utter chaos now, slapping, screaming, splashing. I think I’ll burst with fear. My mother yells at David, "Hurry up and call an ambulance!" As he runs to the phone she adds, "And tell them not to use the siren!" Guilt and shame make her say that. She doesn't want the neighbors to know the house reeks of addicts.

Both the police and medics are here, shouting their tough guy orders. The commotion and confusion are too much for me to take, so I drift down the hall to my parent's vacant bedroom. I rest my head on the cool window and watch the raindrops flicker, red - white - red - white - red - white. As the ambulance drives away into the pre- dawn hours, I fog up the glass with my living breath and write with a shaky finger.

Please don't die.

Now
"Hi Hon," my husband says and smiles. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I smile. It's just that every now and then I fall apart.

Copyright © 2006 SJN

That you weren't thinking about the earlier trauma really doesn't matter when considering if it was connected or not. I'm sorry this happened (what ARE the odds?) Well, that might not comfort you much ..hhmmm.. yes I think it could have very well been why your body couldn't function for you...and I'm sorry that drivers couldn't be bothered to get out of their cars and help you!

Be well. (((hugs)))

I'd say it was a flash back. Enough triggers were present in order for you to reexperience it. When I was 8, I was blinded by having whitewash doused in my eyes. For weeks I had bandaids on my face and couldn't see. 35 years later and a few months back, I had an eye infection in both eyes and the doctor put drops in so I couldn't see and my boyfriend had to walk me home. I suddenly started to feel like I was eight again and when he fogot to tell me to step down from the walk way and I stumbled, I started to cry like a frightened child. All the flashbacks and triggers led me back to when I was blind. Kinda quirky but harmless I guess.

(((( everyone ))))

Thank you on your post on your experience with your husband's illness and your brother's. First let me say, both of these experiences sound extremely traumatic. The second with your husband possibily made more so by the preivous one with your brother. To be caretaker, can produce more deep feelings - there just aren't words to decribe (my mom had a rehuematic heart).

I just feel for you...

Your writing is soooo powerful. It speaks to me because it illustrates how my life is impacted by PTSD,
It helps me to not feel so alone and I am thankful you shared it with me.

You captured the impact PTSD as I have never seen before -so that people (including myself) can clearly see what happens.

Sincerely,
freewill

Thank you...

I seem to be on a journey to accepting myself.. Huu ha... for me, with everone in my life having a different opinion of me - mostly negative - I am starting tto say, you know I do have PTSD and I can't wave a magical wand and be like a person that does not.

Hugs to veryone

Oh freewill, thank you so much for your kind words. I always hope that when I share my writing, it touches someone.

hey
it`s seems to me, freewill..that you may have a shock...and that it MAY BE a result of the memorie.
but Post traumatic disorder is somehting people have for a long time... it makes their life wors.....

i mean- if you just felt a shock adn then you went on and everyhting became gradually to normal i don`t think you have this dessorder.

do you have this "shock" oftern when you have small accidents? i think that`s what important here.
DISORDERS are a serious thing....