Date: January 6, 2001 To: 24 Hour Fitness Accounting Re: Refund request following psychiatric medical emergency From: Kenneth D. Meyering 31238 9th Avenue S. Federal Way, WA 98003 (253) 839-8824 Dear 24 Hour Fitness Management: I am writing to request a refund of my recent purchase of personal training sessions. I have been diagnosed with "Bipolar Disorder/Depressive Type" and "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder". These conditions require that I take several psychiatric medications designed to stabilize my mood. After a year of being out of shape and not exercising, I recently returned to the gym to boost my confidence and self-esteem. Occasionally, events occur which require my changing medications. These can sometimes involve reactions to changes in my diet, exercise, supplements or life circumstances. Even with mental health care, these episodes can be difficult to predict. In the middle of November 2000, I experienced an extreme manic episode. At the beginning of the month I was hired for a new job as a Technical Support Representative for Watchguard Technologies (a manufacturer of internet security products). My job was scheduled to begin on November 27th and I was excited and eager to be in shape in order to appear attractive and make a positive impression on my new coworkers. After a week or so of workouts, I felt extremely energetic and motivated to go all-out in my efforts. Although I didn't realize it at the time, I began entering a manic phase of my bipolar disorder. These states are usually accompanied by excessive spending. I excitedly asked trainers for advice on vitamins and supplements. I was willing to do "whatever it takes" to burn the fat and build the muscle in the most aggressive manner possible, since I was interviewing for jobs and had some good prospects. Although I had never taken supplements before, it was full speed ahead and I ended up purchasing hundreds of dollars in vitamins, supplements and protein powder. In my manic state, I felt overoptimistic and forgot to read the labels. Unfortunately, the trainer forgot to ask me about medications. Consequently, I immediately began taking maximum dosages of three supplements which are not supposed to be combined with my medications: Hydroxycut® (a thermogenic supplement), DHEA and Androplex®. About a week later, I felt pumped up and powerful. I began consulting with trainers for advice on exercise programs. One trainer was quite supportive of my goals and was quite generous with his time and willing to share his expertise. We discussed at great length doing "whatever it takes" and "being serious" about getting fit. Several days later (while still unemployed), I found myself signing a contract and purchasing a training package for $1016.50. I hadn't felt this strong and confident in years, and felt like I could use all the professional support I could get to stay on track. On my first day of formal "paid" training, I exercised vigorously for about 12 minutes and became sick and vomited. The trainer was optimistic and expressed that now that he was aware of my "limits" he could set a pace that would be challenging yet not impossible. After that, I spent 60 minutes walking briskly on the treadmill and then went home. At home, I began using an isometric exercise ball to relax and meditate. I really enjoyed exercising with the ball. My sense of touch was awakening! I was beginning to feel "grounded" and "physical." I could stand or sit nearly motionless for hours, moving only the muscles needed to keep the ball spinning. If my muscles began to cramp, I'd make the slightest adjustment to the axis of the orbit and a different set of muscles would take over. For hours I'd focus on the spinning ball while feeling perfectly centered and relaxed. This was a good thing, I thought. This is an isometric exercise ball. It's an acrylic globe containing a smaller rubber-coated ball. When holding the ball with both hands, the ball can be spun in orbit within the globe. By changing the direction and amount of force applied by the hands, different muscle groups can be isolated and exercised with very little motion. Both hands can apply force simultaneously to improve coordination between the hands; or one hand can be used as a fulcrum while the other applies force. By shifting the dominant hand between left and right, the exercise can become mental as well as physical, since the brain learns to coordinate the rotation angle and velocity of the ball with both hemispheres. After countless hours of using the ball therapeutically, I have come to relate to it with passion. It seems almost to have a life of its own. I've nicknamed it "the droid." The ball can also be held at other points on the body with other combinations of body parts to isolate other muscle pairs and improve coordination and balance. This is an inexpensive multimedia exercise tool. It provides tactile, visual, auditory, thermal, electrostatic and kinesthetic feedback. By adding small amounts of syrups and essential oils to the ring around the opening, olfactory and taste feedback can also be included. By moving the inner ball in a slow rotation while holding the outer globe relatively still and shifting dominance between left and right, the brain receives feedback to both hemispheres which creates oscillating activity between left and right in a continuous range of regular frequencies. This can be either calming or exciting depending on the frequency of the orbit of the ball and subsequent frequency of the oscillating activity in the sensory/motor areas of the brain. After spending some time exercising at the gym, I was beginning to overcome my shyness and interact socially. I enjoyed some casual flirting and felt some slight indications of sexual excitement. I felt my libido. I was beginning to feel attractive and virile. I was experiencing the refreshing urge to enjoy courtship and had thoughts of getting physical. Unfortunately, one of the side effects of my antidepressants (Prozac® and Wellbutrin®) is erectile dysfunction. It's a trade-off! But modern science offers hope. On Friday morning, November 24th, my University of Washington urologist wrote me a one-year prescription for Viagra®. This was something I had to try. Now that I was getting more physical and more social, it was time to see if this additional medication would bring a quantum leap to my social life. Maybe I would be able to enjoy sex again? This new addition to my cocktail of medicines called for a little test. Would my prayers be answered? Could I feel "fully" alive again? What would be a good way find out? On Saturday evening, November 25th, I was driving eastbound on 320th feeling a mixture of anxiety and courage. In my mouth were the remains of two tablets of Androplex® purchased from 24 Hour Fitness. I was using them as my trainer had directed. Where should I go? Like a priest consulting an oracle, I picked up the little globe with my right hand and gave it a spin just for the heck of it. A few moments later it hit me. In a burst of sheer determination, I did a U-turn and headed back to Pacific Highway. Within a minute, my car was parked at Déjà vu Showgirls nightclub. I took a deep breath, reached into my pill case and popped a Viagra®. Nothing could stop me. No shame. No guilt. No fear. Just beauty, nature, chemistry, form and function. I wanted not to be intellectual, analytical, verbal, linear, logical, defensive and caffeine cold. I wanted to be calm, relaxed and grounded. I wanted to be in my body, in my sense of touch. I wanted my blood vessels to dilate, my hands to be warm, my skin to be at its greatest sensitivity. I picked up the droid and went inside. With both hands I held the droid, spinning the ball inside. I approached the cash register and let go of the droid only long enough to search for my i.d. and pay the fee at the door. The person at the register took my money without hesitation. An attractive woman in a bikini stood between me and the lobby of the club. She was warm. I could feel the temperature of her body with the exposed skin on my arms and face. I felt alive. "What's that?" she asked innocently, like a little girl unafraid to ask questions. Like magic, already I was interacting with the opposite sex. It was wonderful. "It's a droid", I said. "Basically it's a rubber ball inside an acrylic globe. It's a simple little toy I use to meditate and balance the left and right hemispheres of my brain. I can spin the ball with almost no motion at all. I can shift my dominant hand from right to left and back." "It's really relaxing, because it provides tactile feedback to the left and right sides back and forth, sort of like a brain wave synchronizer. While the ball spins it builds up friction against the plastic and that creates static electricity. The static electricity moves back and forth from hand-to-hand just like the vibration from the ball. I think if you really relax you can learn to feel electrostatic charge. Here, try it!" I handed her the ball. She took to it like a fish to water. Never before had I seen anyone get into the rhythm of the ball so quickly. Normally, people shake the globe awkwardly as they try to match the spin of the ball. She fell into perfect sync right away and seemed to become one with the globe. "You're really good at it!" I said. "I've had a lot of practice!" she said, while making a rapid up and down motion with her hand, as though performing a routine service. The cashier laughed out loud and she smiled and I smiled. "Let me see if I can match your rhythm?" I said. While she held the droid with both hands and gently twirled the ball, I reached out with both of my hands and she moved her hands back to her side of the droid. Our four hands were evenly spaced around the ball and we began testing to see if we could get the ball spinning. After a few seconds of experimentation, all three of us were in perfect sync: she, the ball and I. I felt tremendous warmth and relaxation, and definite signs of life. She gave the ball back and made some friendly comments while stepping aside to allow me into the club. I was jubilant but somewhat in a daze as I quickly ducked downstairs to the left where there was a small corridor and the doors to the restrooms. There were a few posters on the walls that seemed worth looking at so I decided to stay out of view until I had a plan or felt right about my next move. I did my best to be completely still and relaxed, and slowly spun the ball until I could regain that illusive sense of tactility. Slowly, I felt myself moving, like a pantomime, while I patiently waited for the experience to unfold as it usually does when I'm "in the flow." I felt myself just soaking up the feeling of the place: the temperature, the smell, the color and texture of the paint on the wall, the graffiti and posters, the humidity of the air, the rhythm of the music, and the tone of the crowd noise coming from the two floors above. I felt like I was carefully balanced between anxious nervous reflexive activity and calm, deliberate, intentional stillness. I didn't want to "force" myself to do anything. I wanted to just "be" and slowly let my "inner quiet feeling" self awaken and make the decisions. I had to be patient. It normally takes several minutes to make a move. But it always feels right, although it's like slow motion most of the time. Like being completely passive and free from the cacophony of words and argument, and letting the intuition and subtle forces do the driving. Two young but gruff-looking young men came down the stairs and looked at me. The urge to "act normal" and "be cool" was strong. But it felt like it would have been wrong, like a betrayal to part of me that was surfacing. I acknowledged them with a clear look in the eyes and smiled calmly. I was being true to myself. It felt good. My thoughts were no longer on sex. Now it was about watching, feeling, letting things happen, being in the moment. So what if it's a little different, no harm done, just some slow healing. "What are you doing?" asked one of the men (the stocky one with the ponytail). "I'm being perfectly still." I said. "It's like, if I just relax and concentrate on gently spinning this little ball, part of my unconscious mind sort of takes control. But it's like slow motion, and it's really subtle. I know it looks weird but it's really quite healthy. Here, check it out!" I held out the ball to him quickly, letting my "normal" self do the driving for a moment, in hopes of explaining the anomaly and pacifying the curiosity and gaining cooperation and tolerance. "Sir. I'm sorry, but I'm gonna have to ask you to take that outside," he said. Suddenly, as though a higher power was intervening, I felt myself changing states until a slightly more sophisticated and assertive attitude came over me. I felt my shoulders fall back slightly and my posture became slightly more erect. I confidently assessed the situation and held the globe in my right arm. My chest lifted a bit as I took in a full breath. It was like a pilot holding his helmet to his side. My left hand let go of the droid and I placed it on my left hip. I smiled, and in a melodic tone of voice, quipped, "what do you think of the Libertarian Party?" "I don't." He said. "I hate politics. If you don't take that outside I'm gonna have to ask you to leave." My chest fell and my arms relaxed. I felt my face in a sort of exaggerated pout as if to express deep frustration and sadness. Another one of my "attitudes" stepped in, as if to try another approach. "Why?????" I said in a sort of childlike but determined voice, as my hands reached up with my palms facing me and the backs of my hands facing the man. The man looked at his coworker and made a motion with his head, directing the man upstairs. There was a long silence. "OK. Come on. Let's go." He turned towards the stairs. Nothing had worked so far. I was not communicating effectively, I thought. My voice deepened to that of a calm, gentle, wise man. I spoke softly, slowly and clearly. "Look… It's not glass. It's just plastic. And inside here, this is just a little rubber ball." I tapped on it several times with the knuckles of a relaxed right hand so he could hear the unmistakable sound of plastic. He seemed to relax and seemed more tolerant. I paused and slowly shrugged my shoulders, as if dismissing a misunderstanding. I continued at an even slower and more gentle pace, relaxing my body as if allowing some stored tension to dissipate. I felt myself in a sort of "nurturing" attitude, like a mother. "It's not harmful at all. I'm not hurting anyone. I swear I'm not crazy. I won't make a scene or anything. I'll be low key, I promise. It's just a little meditation tool. A toy!" He nodded and smiled, appearing relieved. "Thank you." I said, as if the message had finally gotten through. He nodded again and smiled. He moved towards the stairs and began going up. I followed him, feeling relieved, as though I had been accepted and he was being tolerant. When I arrived at the top of the stairs there were two police officers entering the lobby just beyond the cashier. Someone seemed to direct their attention towards me. Without expression, one of the officers said, "Sir. You have to leave." This was frustrating. I had just finished explaining myself and establishing a rapport with the man downstairs and thought everything was going to be ok. I glanced around but didn't see him. I decided that I could speak for myself. "Why?" I asked, feeling a sense of Déjà vu. "Because of this?" I held the globe out so they could get a good look at it. I quickly repeated my previous motions of tapping on the globe to show it was plastic. I showed them the opening of the globe, so they could look inside and see clearly that it was just a rubber ball. "Come on! Let's go! Now." One of the officers said. Feeling as though they weren't fully informed, I reached into the globe with my left hand and took out the rubber ball and handed it to the officer in front of me. "Here. See for yourself. It's just a little rubber ball." He held it briefly, took a quick look at it and nodded. "That's right! It's just a ball!" he said, in what seemed like a patronizing tone of voice. It was as though he felt he was speaking to a drunk. He extended his hand and I took the little rubber ball back and put it back into the globe and smiled. He smiled sarcastically, then reached out with both hands and attempted to take the globe from me as though I was not qualified to be holding it. He wasn't pulling with much force, just sort of gently trying to grab it as though he wanted to make a closer inspection. I sensed that he was placating me with a feigned interest in the globe, so that I would naively surrender it into his custody. I felt compelled to hold on and not allow him to take it, however politely. I needed to take a deep breath, relax, be still and let my "tactile" self explain that I had made a peaceful rapport with the bouncer who had decided on tolerance rather than force. I was between thinking, feeling, and speaking. I was searching for words. The taller officer, to my left, saw that I was not letting go of the ball that his partner was obviously attempting to take from me. In a more dominant, aggressive, louder and deeper tone, he said, "All right! Put your hands behind your back, you're under arrest." He reached for his handcuffs with one hand and grabbed my left forearm with his other hand and attempted to yank it behind my back. His partner (in front of me) was still pulling on the ball. I squeezed the ball tightly. If I had allowed my left arm to be pulled down behind my back, I would have had to let go of the ball. I locked my arms and refused to let go of the ball. The officer in front of me released the ball and moved to my right and began trying to yank my right arm away from the ball and behind my back. "Don't resist!" one of the men said. "I'm not resisting!" I said loudly. It felt like I was in a dream, only this was a nightmare! As a fullback on my high school football team, I was prone to fumbling. Quite often tacklers would yank at my arms from behind in order to force a fumble. It comes with the territory and gets to be a familiar sensation. My mantra at that time was "don't drop the ball; hold on to the ball; stay on your feet and don't go down." Whenever I carried the football, I repeated these phrases over and over and over again, silently as if by rote. "I'm not resisting!" I kept repeating. "Yes you are, asshole!" one of the officers screamed. Like a deep instinct, I held my body rigid and immobile and secured my arms around the ball and squeezed it tightly to my chest. I felt sort of detached and above it. Like I was inside a movie or something. I thought to myself "This isn't happening. This is crazy! What the hell is going on? This feels like a dream! Shit!" At the same time, I felt my muscles pumped with adrenaline. I felt strong, as though I could weather this storm. A few seconds later more officers arrived and joined the struggle. The feeling was very familiar, yet one I hadn't felt in about 18 years. Having been exercising earlier that day, I felt strong and able to hold my ground. There was no reason for this to be happening, I felt, since I wanted only to converse with the officers and explain that the ball was harmless and posed no danger. I was eager to share my knowledge of this simple tool, and to explain its therapeutic use. The next few seconds were somewhat of a blur, but I recall profanities being screamed by various officers (e.g., "put your hands behind your back, mother fucker"; "get on the ground, asshole!"). I felt a heavy object striking my right knee, hands all over my body and face, the ring finger on my left hand being bent backwards and then slamming into the ground face down while in a choke hold and nearly passing out while still attempting to "communicate" peacefully. After hitting the ground I felt myself go completely limp. It was just like being in a football game after being tackled and the play was over. The ref would blow the whistle and I would go completely limp. But this time, the opponents didn't back off. I was being choked, and their screaming continued uninterrupted. I tightened my neck and managed to say, "You're choking me! I'm about to pass out! Please stop choking me!" As in certain past traumatic situations, I became strangely physically detached and felt separated from my body with the exception of my ability to speak and see. It was as though every ounce of me was crying out that any effort to move would be too dangerous. I remember feeling as though something else was in control of me; some sort of intimate inner friend and protector, and it said loudly "I have a split brain. I have a split brain!" Strangely, it felt as though I was betraying a confidence as I let that part of me speak out loud. It was a part of me that I had usually connected to only when extremely relaxed. I remember telling the police "I'm not drunk. I'm not crazy. I just need you to be patient at the moment because I can't move my body because I'm sort of in a state of shock." I remember them placing me into the back seat of a police cruiser. I was placed face down on my stomach in the back seat with my head extending slightly beyond the edge of the seat. I remember the door slamming in my face and hitting the top of my head with a lot of force and then bouncing open again until the officer closed it for a second time, more slowly. I remember speaking with a paramedic who asked me if I was taking any drugs, and he wanted to know what it was that they had seen in my mouth earlier. I explained that I wasn't drunk and I wasn't on any illegal drugs but that I was taking Wellbutrin®, Prozac®, Lamictal® and Colchecine. I also mentioned that earlier in the day I had been to my urologist and received a prescription for Viagra and I was testing to see if I could get excited. I mentioned that the pills in my mouth were "Androplex®," a legal supplement I had purchased at 24 Hour Fitness. I remember asking repeatedly for the handcuffs to be loosed or removed, since my hands were numb and my wrists were in pain from the tightness of the handcuffs. Then I remember the paramedic saying that they were going to take me to the hospital. I was insisting that I was fine and perfectly lucid and rational, but I just needed to move slowly, relax and get calm so that I could move normally again. I remember seeing a large fire engine and several police cars. Then a few minutes later, being placed onto a stretcher, my arms and legs being in restraints, and being placed inside an ambulance as I pleaded to explain that I was perfectly sane and didn't need to be in restraints. I remember arriving at the Harborview hospital in downtown Seattle. I remember spending some time in a hallway, then being placed in a small room with a bed, where I attempted to relax and go to sleep. I remember speaking with several different nurses and psychologists and explaining that I felt like I was sharing my body with "something other than me" but whatever the "other" was it didn't "speak" but could move my body extremely slowly, provided that I relaxed and surrendered to it. I asked if my right to free speech included "moving extremely slowly, if at all, while looking around and 'not speaking'?" I remember explaining that I had "done no harm" but was getting in touch with "another part of me" that had extreme tactile sensitivity and could feel static electricity like 'little spider webs' moving around on my face and scalp. I remember requesting that my left hand be x-rayed because the second joint on my left ring finger was extremely swollen and painful. I remember a doctor examining it and saying it was probably "just badly jammed but not broken." I was released the following morning. I walked downtown and got a hotel room. I showed up for my new job on Monday November 27th and was given a desk and some study materials. My employment was terminated on November 28th because I was "acting strange" (again, moving slowly like a pantomime). Following this event, I discontinued the above-mentioned supplements and visited my psychiatrist, who changed some of my medication dosages, and added Risperdal®, an anti-psychotic, to my daily meds. I stopped going to the gym after this, as the police had injured my knee on December November 25th, and it was physically painful to move my right leg. A few weeks later (on December 19th), I appeared for arraignment in Federal Way Municipal Court on charges of "criminal trespassing" and "resisting arrest". At that time, the judge ordered that I be committed to Western State Hospital for 15 days to determine my competency to stand trial. I spent Christmas and New Years Eve among prisoners in Ward N-7 (a tightly secured ward with a rigidly structured schedule and no opportunities to go outside). After multiple evaluations by staff psychiatrists and psychologists, I was found to be competent to stand trial. On January 2nd I was transferred back to the Federal Way Municipal Court for arraignment, at which time I was introduced to my court-appointed attorney (the Public Defender). At that time, the attorney consulted with the Prosecutor and the Judge, and I was released immediately without having to enter a plea of "guilty" or "not guilty", on the condition that I continue with my psychiatric care and attend monthly visits with a state-funded therapist to address my "dissociated" pantomime state. I live by the philosophy "do no harm." And, in conclusion, there's been no harm done (with the exception of my loss of a job, over a thousand dollars wasted on practically unused supplements and exercise contracts, a lost holiday season and wasted plane tickets for my family reunion, a jammed knuckle on my left finger that still hurts to this day, and torn cartilage in my right knee (which had been broken earlier during a football game), and a required commitment of 12 months of therapy with monthly reports to the court). In consideration of the above, will you please consider refunding the PERSONAL TRAINING contract? With the exception of the initial sessions, it is unused. I signed the contract in a state of "diminished capacity" as a result of my mental illness and conflicts between my psychiatric medications and supplements. At this time, I'm feeling better and am for the most part "back to normal", with the exception of limited mobility and continued pain in my right knee. I'm still working to reintegrate my dissociated tactility and electrostatic sensitivity. Yesterday I ordered a 400,000 volt Van De Graaf Generator from Edmund Scientific to assist in my therapy. Attached to this letter are documents related to the events following what is most likely an innocent and accidental drug interaction, some personal eccentricity, a lot of impatience by overly aggressive bouncers, and cops who are too quick to use force when a little rational discussion and free speech will get the job done and the problem solved just fine. Kenneth D. Meyering – 24 Hour Fitness Refund Request Page 2 of 24 Saturday, January 06, 2001 10:57 PM