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Anyone know anything about it? Here's an video, I find myself attracted to the scientific approach of this neurologist. There's a psychologist local who practices the therapy, but the standard $200 a visit, and me uninsured with my cash flow has me doing as much study as I can before seeking professional help.


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Guest ASchwartz


Robert Scaer is a brilliant neurologist who is located in Denver Colorado. If he says something works you can trust him. I know nothing about this new approach but it must be good.

Are you suffering from trauma? There is another technique that you can look for and should be less expensive: EMDR: Eye Movement Rapid Desensitization. There are therapists who are trained in this: both social workers and psychologists.


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Hi Allen. Yea pretty much. I was hit by a car at 12, compound femur, the bones came out the front of my thigh. 6 weeks in traction, where I turned 13.

Physically, it couldnt have happened at a better time, just at my growth spurt, so I healed pretty well from it.

But the experiance fairly firmly planted the idea that hospitals are places to avoid. Actually any medical enviroment. I was joking with my dentist how what really bothers me is the gentle soft spoken manner that all medical people have, thats also kindof a trigger for me.

Then I smashed my right shoulder into a rock when I tumbled down a mtn, I'm pretty sure the collerbone broke, and my arm came out of socket, I set it myself. The bone healed, but it sticks up, and my arm hangs down about an inch. I never saw a doc about it, now it has a fatty lypoma about the size of an egg in front.

Oh, then I have also broke my wrist, tore the ligaments off two of my left hand fingers, sunk a 3-1/2" climbing gaff into my calf, the list is long.

My knees are so bad from so many miles of woodswork that I was paralysed from the left knee down for about 3 months 2 years ago, the perneal nerve was damaged said the neurologist I went to.

I work pretty hard still, but I'm declining fast here, about to turn 45, and feeling pretty hopeless.

I've been a "cash guy" all my life, I bought my land and built my house and shop without bankers help. The neurologist was covered by workers comp, cause I'd been on my knees so much for my snail survey work,but the rest of the injuries would be considered pre-existing I'm sure. I pay my

local GP doc, and the pharmacy out of my wallet.

I worked so hard to get this place, the thought of putting it against medical costs would be heartbreaking for me.

There is a psychologist that does EDMR, and brainspotting in Grants Pass, about 40 miles away, but no sliding scale.

And I'm not so sure that I dont need actual surgury more than that treatment, I havent even talked with my doc about the shoulder, just other issues, and some meds, like remeron, flexeril, and klonopin.

I really dont know what to do, my mental functioning isnt at it's best these days.

People like me just dont exist, I'm so out of the system. I typically do around 25k, my W2 was for 11k last year, I'm slipping. Who do I talk to?


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I guess since this is a forum to talk about issues, I may as well keep going.

I used to visit with a nurse that thought I have a fairly high death experiance.

The first I remember was when I was around 8, I think I had finished hunter training, and had a 22, but hadnt gone deer hunting in eastern oregon yet. I played with a couple of brothers, a few houses away. Chris was my age, Mike was a couple years older, and they hunted with their father. They were out duck hunting, Mike stood up in the boat in front of his father's shotgun. That house was dark after that.

I had gotten to know an older guy, who's elderly parents lived on my street, and who had been a medic in vietnam, till his chopter went down. We visited a lot, sometimes he lived at home when he wasnt keeping his act together. He had been working as a nurse in Tillamook, and lived with a girlfriend out there. One day (I wasnt there) her ex came through the door with a .357, killed her and put 2 rounds in Tom's back. Luckly he was about a hundred lbs overweight, probably 300 lbs, and he survived the hits, I remember changing the dressings when he was back at his folks. I was probably 15 or so.

By then I was getting to be a fairly wild teenager, drugs an all, but no powders, just weed and mushrooms. One guy I went picking with, Mike, was pretty mental. He stabbed Steve to death in the kitchen with a butterknife, went to Damash. I was probably 16 by then.

I was cycling a lot then, mountainbikes had just hit the scene, and I rode up around Mt Hood, and the George with another couple of brothers I was close with. Paul shot himself not long after I left on my bike rides.

Oh, since things were so nutty by then, I left Gresham on my bike before finishing high school.

I had a lot of traumatic experiances while on the road, but dont remember any deaths then, till I was living in a hippy town near here. I'd been living at a house with Crazy Larry, Maureen and their kids. Wild place, shooting pool in the livingroom, the white horse used to walk through the front door, and into the back yard at any time of day or night, haha. Larry's brother Jim was also a vet and pretty mental. He hated Dustin, the gay storekeep (who hit on me all the time, but I dont swing that way). Well, Jim busted up the store one day, and Dustin said he'd shoot him if he came back. I was driving my 65 doge pickup into the store's lot just as Justin blew Jims brains out the front door. Then a day or two later Larry burned the store down, then everyone had to go 10 miles for any groceries.

Think that was the summer of 87, in southern oregon, one of the big fire years, the forest around exploded in flames, and I fought fire for the first time. I was 22, and that winter joined an absolutely insane treeplanting crew, beginning my new life in the woods, making money instead of living on a bicycle.

I saw more violence, shootings and death in that town, Maybe I'll tell some of those stories later.


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Good god LogDork, some people get traumatized from living any one of those experiences! It reminds me of stories of people who live in war torn countries, but the tragedy is that many of the deaths you spoke of were self-inflicted. When I was reading I was thinking that it sounded like someone living in the wild, wild west.... You've been a witness to the human tragedy in all it's dark shadows, I can see how it could become a heavy burden. That video you suggested makes so much sense with regards to your state of mind and physical difficulties...

They are perhaps difficult stories for you to remember, but there is lots of potential for releasing the trauma capsules with the talk therapy, at least according to Dr. Scaer...My feeling is that you need rest, lots of rest. You sound weary. You need to nurse yourself back to health ... but I get a fsense that your not terribly good at taking it easy. Do you have people in your life who can help you with that. I know a radio guy who burned himself right out over 20 years.... 2 years on his back staring at the ceiling, crying a lot. With time some of the tiredness left him, he met a lovely lady and he is now able to work again, although not at the pace he used to. Perhaps you just need to get into neutral for awhile, rest, absorb everything you've lived in the last 30 years ... a page is turning in your life, and there may be some good in that :-)

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My sincere apologies LogDork - I accidentally edited your post and replaced it with my reply... I must have though I was editing my own post. I'm new to moderating and that new button is throwing me off... Thus the reason for my voice under your name. I'm sorry. :-( Symora

Malign -- I took the liberty of restoring LogDork's original post; it wasn't lost, Symora, so don't worry.

The original text follows:


Well, those are the memories I CAN remember. I think I wrote a bit once about the flashback I had about my leg ripping incident, they couldnt use morphine because of the shock I was in, and that had always been a closed memory for me, till I had a flasback of it, from the hit, the ambulance, the OR, and to when I do remember coming to in ICU. I think there's a lot in that closet of my mind.

My oldest sister has brain cancer, and the middle sister has spent the most time with the doctors, learning and being the main connection in helping her through it.

She talked with me of how amazing our brains are, and the brains ability to reroute various functions to the parts that work.

I think a persons life's experience, what they do with their body and mind on a regular basis, along with their diet, and so on create strengths and some weaknesses in that functioning, and being so much a hands on kind of guy I tend to like to study the neurological aspects of my "illness" rather than the emotional, tho I can see how intertwined they are.

I cant help but to draw an analogy of my brain to my old cars and trucks (only 4 of them, and none are on cinderblocks in the front yard anyway), all the jump wires and bailing wire repairs I do to keep them moving. At a point, ya open the hood and think, damn, I'd be better to strip the whole wiring harness out and replace it, if only my brain problems were so simple.

Considering the head spinning, and eyes bugging out episodes I've been having, I have no dount that theres some bad wiring going on up there.

I really just want a break from it. One good day would mean so much to me now.

The most daunting thing for me is not having the steam to move myself in that direction, it feels like so much work, and such a challenge. I'm really beat these days, and just dont have the wind in my sails to head for new territory. Thankyou for your replys, it helps to know someone is listening.



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Thats ok, Symore.

So, I emailed the psych doc, explained the situation a little. He of course refered me to another pdoc, but I'm always a bit bothered with the classic double entendre ending "Good Luck"...

Down the road I go...

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No, I dont want to do that again. The fall survay season of 08 hit me really hard, I had mostly mended from the dropfoot, and was wearing braces and pads, staying to units with under 60% slope, but I was keeping away from everyone, and knew my mind was going. I remember getting back, and feeling like I'd walked into a strangers house, here in the home I built from the ground up. I was terrified, and had nowhere to go.

My analytical mind knew it was purely mental illness, and knew it was my house, and I could call family at any time, but was in so much physical and mental pain that the here and now was twisted beyond all recognition for me.

-note to self, take a mirtazapine-

In the last year and a half I've been dancing to and from that edge a lot, and I'm not sure if I'm getting better, or more comfortable with it.

I have been out of my mind many years ago, the most intense were the months I spent in the desert of southern Arizona, and New Mexico. It would be impossible to relate how I was then, scavenging food, living almost like an animal.

At it's worst, street living in large US cities can be as bad. Just the effort to appear normal to avoid conflict with authorities is a burden beyond most peoples comprehension.

I was much younger then, and though I've learned many coping skills, my weariness seems to grow almost daily.

Well, it's the middle of spring survey, I guess I should get my camp gear back in the truck, and be ready to head back out tomorrow.

I can say without any exaggeration that I've spent more than a third of my adult life's nights in sleeping bags alone in the woods, I'm really tired of camping.


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Now that you have a home you built for yourself and a 'pretty nice deal' as you put it, do you have to continue camping LogDork? It may be time to manage others and leave the hard work to them... I think the time has come for you to take it easy since your body can no longer support your pushing it that hard.... is there any way you can move your life in that direction?

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  • 3 weeks later...

Good god! hah, I hear that tone in your voice so well, Symora :)

I feel like writing more, so I'll do so here.

I feel so much for the troubled people here, and the situations they crave to be out of.

In some of these forums, I feel somewhat in place, as I have pain in my life that seems insurmountable. In so many threads I see people looking for an experience or help that will move them to a new place in their lives, that ring to grab hold of.

I feel out of place in other ways, as I have had a wealth of experiences, at times feels like enough for 3 lifetimes. I think how funny and utterly useless some of my life has been, yet it has been a good ride. Haha, time for a story.

Of my truck, this time. God, how many hours I spent hunched under the hood of that '59 ford, half ton four wheel drive pickup. I loved that truck.

Most of us have both fond, and troubled memories of the relationships in our lives, lovers, friends, our faithful old dogs, and purring cats.

But we dont talk so much about our old favorite cars.

Most move from vehicle to vehicle without enough time to know it as well as I knew big bird. I worked most of the forests in oregon, some of washington, and northern california driving that old truck. It was always breaking down, a good old Fix Or Repair Daily FORD.

Heres one story of it.

I had moved up to Dillard Oregon, near Roseburg, after I left the family I lived with for 4-5 years down here. It was having engine troubles, and the bottom end was coming apart.

I had gotten to meet this old machinist, and welder that had a big tin shed, full of equipment, dirt and grease at the edge of town, He was near 70, and had a crew of old guys there that rocked in chairs made of car seats, with leafsprings welded to the bottoms, passing around a half gallon jug of kesslers whiskey.

Old Louie would get business now and then, and would price the job by looking at the shoes they wore.

Louie saw that I needed another engine in my truck, and looking at my boots, knew my price range. He told me he knew of an engine I could have, if I could go pull it, it was in his uncle Ray's truck, and I could have it, Ray wouldnt be needing it anytime soon.

Louie tells me this..."See, Ray loved that truck, and had rebuilt the engine. But one day, around 15 years ago there were these paperboys that stole fruit from Ray's fruit trees, and it pissed Ray off. So he caught them and busted their bikes. Well, they called the cops, and I had told the cops not to go over there to Ray's place. Well, Ray shot three of them, didnt kill any, just gut shot em. I don't think Ray would mind if you borrowed the engine out of his truck over there"

And that was the engine I had in that truck for many years after that.

I wish I could take a break from my life, Symora, but it just keeps moving along, crazy as ever, and I dont see any rest areas up ahead.


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Hi Logdork.... If that tone was of concern then I think you're right :-) I guess you have one of those lives that's just flat out. I can't even imagine that to tell you the truth. I live my life so emotionally that it would have driven me mad years ago... We all search for meaning in our own way and at our own speed don't we?

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Yea. I it's both what keeps me going, and what's destroying my mind and body. At times I'm in so much pain that all I can think of is ending it, or getting to medical attention. Such a dilemma for me, this is so intrinsic to me, that like other self injure folks, I fear it taken from me. I curl up with my pain at night, it's my constant companion.

Without my pain tolerance, there's no way I could have been where I have, done the things I've gotten to do. I close my eyes and remember being in tall treetops over Hells Canyon, swaying in the wind...

I'm fairly sure some of the tendons are torn off in my rotator cuff, I can hardly lift a cup of coffee in the morning. Maybe I could get surgury free, or close to up at the Oregon Health Services University. My friend with a cancerous finger got it cut off by a surgeon up there, no local docks would help him. But he had a "friend of a friend" that got him in somehow. I know broken bones, torn tendons, this is way past physical therapy, or healing on it's own.

Turned 45 the other day, the phone rings, and I dont pick it up.

In the woods, I try not to think about suicide, I plan my power hammer, how it needs to go together, piece by piece.

In town yesterday I picked up another bottle of remeron, and 10 lbs of welding rod. I should tell you about my welding buddy Kris sometime.

He died in 08, at 34. Husband of Mel, one of the three kids I helped raise, living with the family I lived with after I got off the road. She is a single mom now, one boy is 10, his from another woman, and one boy is 8 her's with Kris. I dont go around the old group anymore. I wanted to teach the boys to weld, but she's back with everyone, and I dont see how I can get time with them, so many complications with old relationships...

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Where your pain is physical, mine is emotional. It too follows me to bed and torments me, and it is there when I wake up in the morning. I don't go see much of anybody anymore either, don't have much to say about anything these days....

I think you should get your shoulder fixed if you can, why suffer when you don't have to, or at least you can lessen your pain....

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Clinics at teaching hospitals are often a good bet for free care (as have intern psychologists been for me at a teaching psych hospital. They've been great therapists.) Docs in training are supervised so you get good care - it's not a case of being experimented on. ;)

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