Damien Powell

PTSI: My Story (Part 5)

The rehabilitation process was lengthy and often difficult. It was also multi-faceted:

The core was weekly sessions with a brigade psychologist to learn mindfulness, coping skills, and overcoming self-imposed barriers. This man is now more of a mentor and friend to me than a therapist - yes, it's still important to have frequent checks and talk about life's difficulties and the calls we as emergency service workers attend, even when everything seems to be going well.

Additionally, there were biweekly to monthly appointments with the brigade doctor and a PTSI psychiatrist. We unpacked troublesome incidents and discussed ways for combating and rehabilitating these dark memories.

During this procedure, I learned that my PTSI was created by a sequence of experiences over time. "Cumulative PTSI" is like the bucket analogy. If we continue to attend critical stress incidents as emergency service workers, each one will fill our bucket a little bit. It's crucial to note that everyone's bucket has a different capacity. If we don't find ways to regularly empty these buckets, whether through formal therapies or healthy practises, they may overflow. I had ended up with a full and overflowing bucket.

Along with regular trips to my PTSI specialist, psychologist, and brigade doctor to address my concerns, I began a lengthy list of medicines and medical trials to aid in my recovery. Taking medication, especially psychiatric prescriptions, is often stigmatised, yet just as diabetics need insulin, people experiencing PTSI may need medication to save their lives. During this time, I was prescribed a lengthy extensive list of antidepressants, anxiety drugs, mood stabilisers, and antipsychotics. Taking these drugs didn't mean I was "crazy" or "schitzo," but rather that I needed some physical intervention to support my therapy.

I won't lie, this was a challenging time, but I was making progress

PTSI: My Story (Part 4)

Work was just not an option; in fact, leaving the house proved to be the most agonising chore!

After visiting the brigade medical officer, I was placed on long-term stress leave and referred to the government's PTSD programme for emergency workers. The issue was the programme had stopped delivering courses at that time due to a lack of funding. My GP contacted a number of Psychiatrists, all of whom refused to treat me because my condition and circumstances were viewed as "too complex."

I had to attend a workcover interview for my much needed time off. The investigator asked me to list every critical incident I'd attended to prove my injury was work-related. Imagine how many potentially traumatic events an emergency worker witnesses in a year, let alone a decade.

Desperate. With no one to help. I actually Googled "PTSD Specialists in Melbourne." to arrange my own treatment. I'd phone and email each of them pleading for help. I feared how bad things would get or what I could be capable of without this critical support.

I ultimately found a Psychiatrist who was a top specialist in PTSI in Australia and connected with a wonderful counsellor - a man I now consider a friend and have learned so much from. PTSI rehabilitation includes medication testing and trials, as well as learning about stress injuries, how they are treated, and what your unique triggers are.

Recovery felt like learning to walk and function again.

PTSI: My Story (Part 3)

I still remember the date my PTSI journey officially began, January 5th 2015.

My symptoms had gotten worse. A lot worse! What was previously overlooked was now simply unignorable.

Driving about, I'd pass places of calls I'd attended and relive them in a filmlike manner. The world would stop, and I'd be back in the moment as if it were a repeat. As a result, I avoided certain locations and sought alternate travel routes. Alternatively I’d avoid places and activities altogether to prevent triggering those memories.

I had a really traumatic call at work the year prior. I thought I had dealt with it, but the details of the call never left me. I started smelling "blood" in the house. The odour was so vivid it was often nauseating.

Frequent nightmares, night sweats, and moments of overwhelming fear and panic. I felt like I was going crazy, I needed help.

My fight for my basic health and well-being had officially begun.