I want to connect the dots for all those people who populate medical and dental buildings. Versed is a bad drug. It was bad for me, it's bad for others, I am not crazy, and I have identified which poison it is that has caused my bad reactions. All of them.
As proof, I submit yet another blog in which the author ALSO correctly identifies Versed as the source of unhappy side effects. As another problem with Versed, this person also was not properly consented for Versed. As you read the comments at the bottom where others opine that there was consent for Versed, I'm telling you there probably wasn't. All you medical types know perfectly well that most people would object to amnesia. You medical workers also know that most people are not going to be interested in amnesia instead of pain relief. Amnesia is the operative word and *I* have NEVER seen this word used, nor have I ever heard of a medical worker saying this word. This is a common thread throughout the Versed complaints. You can see my own "informed consent" back in my 2009 posts. I copied it and put it up on my blog in its original and untouched state. Go look at it and see if there is ANYTHING AT ALL about Versed, sedation, amnesia or anything like it. Nothing. Just a generic and illegal paper with absolutely nothing on it to make a patient think its an informed consent. Especially not for something like Versed. Anyway, enough about me, here is the link; Esprit de Carp - Now where was I?
Here it is reproduced for your reading pleasure.;
Years ago I read about a drug that was used by obstetricians back in the benighted, paternalistic 1950s (and probably earlier). The purpose of this drug was to make women forget the ordeal of giving birth, so that they would happily repeat the hellish experience. I assumed that in our more enlightened era such sinister drugs were no longer in use.
Wrong! Yesterday I underwent a common, but potentially painful, procedure. No one asked me if I wanted the intravenous cocktail of fentanyl and midazolam, but I offered no objection. I figured it was in everyone's best interest for me to be docile and floaty. But I don't think I fully understood what the midazolam (brand name Versed) would do. In fact it's one of those amnesia-inducing drugs. For a period of about 30 minutes I could have been singing, telling jokes, screaming, snoring, or any number of activities that I will never remember.
As the Versed wore off, I remember talking with the doctor calmly and sensibly while he finished the procedure. So it could be that I was calm and sensible the whole time. If so, I would love to know what I heard and saw in my twilight stupor. If instead I was babbling incoherently for half an hour, I'd like to know about that, too. It bothers me that these so-called helping professionals routinely rob people of their memories without asking permission. I wonder how many of them take advantage of the opportunity to insult and mock patients who will never remember the humiliation.
Understandably, doctors would rather probe someone who's sedated, for the same reason that veterinarians prefer to clean the teeth of unconscious cats: It's safer for all concerned. But isn't it possible to dull the pain and ease the anxiety without messing with one's memory? Next time I'll insist on my right to remember how unpleasant the procedure was.
Actually this isn't the first time I've been tricked in this way ("Fool me once..."). When I had my wisdom teeth out, more than 40 years ago, I was given a mixture of Valium and Demerol, and no one told me that the Valium would induce anterograde amnesia. Maybe one insidious effect of these drugs is that you forget to make sure you don't get them again.
I do find it fascinating that memory formation can be chemically inhibited. Maybe if I'd gotten such a drug all my life, I'd be a happier person now (though I might be covered with tattoos and sticky notes).