This is the next section of how I ended up in a state run psychiatric hospital and my experiences there.

As soon as I got back from visiting with my family and taking my medication for the evening, my gin rummy friend, Dorthy, decided to start a one woman riot.  She started the festivities off by launching a chair across the unit.  I was too stunned to move from my chair by the nurse’s station, and all of the other patients who had been in the common areas scattered.

The chair was followed by the turning over of a heavy couch or two and some other very heavy chairs were turned over.  By then I had slowly gotten up and kind of moved over to the medication window, which the nurse had locked and closed once furniture started flying.  The rest of the nurse’s were in the nurses station hollering at Dorthy to stop and  watching to see what she would do next.  Dorthy went up to the chair I had been sitting in.  It was like one of those jail house chairs, where a line of chairs are connected together by a steel bar.  She turned those over too.  Then she saw me, walked over, and in my head I am thinking “Oh Shit!”, and all she does is to let me know she will be ready to play gin rummy in a few minutes.  Then Dorthy went after Patty.  Apparently, Patty’s non stop talking aggravated Dorthy as much as it aggravated me.  Patty ran into the laundry room and locked herself in there.  Dorthy then went to the other section of the common area and turned the chairs over there, and also dumped the very heavy picnic table over.  As Dorthy walked past me again, heading for whatever target she wanted next, I asked her how she was doing and she calmly told me she was “just fine”.  There were two large, outside garbage cans in front of the nurses station, one was used for garbage, it was padlocked and had a rectangle cut in the top for us to put our trash into. The other garbage can was for our dirty linen.  Again, heavy objects.  Dorthy picked up the garbage can and threw it over the glass partition of the nurses station.  Fortunately, the nurses were able to get out of the way before hit anyone.  That is when the nurses decided it might be a good idea to call a code, and get help in subduing her.  Dorthy then got a cup and repeatedly filled it up with water and tossed the water over the partition of the nurses station.  On her last time to do that, one of the other patients started hollering “Here she comes again”, that upset Dorthy.  Dorthy took off running towards the other patient and threw the water on her and then proceeded to punch her a few times.  Then she picked up the linen can and threw it over the partition of the nurse’s station.  That time one of the nurses did not get out of the way.  So he started yelling all kinds of cuss words at Dorthy.  A doctor who was on duty that weekend had shown up to our unit and had scrambled to get into the nurses station.  She heard what the nurse yelled and fussed at him.  No one had shown up in answer of the code yet, so the doctor had them call the code again and instructed the medication nurse to fill up several syringes. 

The code team showed up.  Rather than wait for them to go after her, Dorthy charged them.  They ran away.  Then the doctor told them to man up and that is when they began chasing her around the unit.  The idea, I think, was to get her in the isolation room and then inject her with whatever was supposed to calm her down, but that did not quite happen.  At one point they had her on the floor and the medication nurse came and injected her with about three syringes.  Every single one of them thought that this would calm her down quickly and then they could get her in the isolation room with no more problems.  Dorthy popped up and gave them another run for their money.  Finally they got her in the isolation room.

Once in there Dorthy started spitting on the door, and the observation window, she took the straps off of the tie down bed and was beating on the door with them, then she started beating her head against the wall.  I noticed that one of the nurses was standing there with her finger on a button constantly.  I thought it was an intercom button so they could keep track of anything she was saying.  So I asked about it.  That is when I learned that in our state, no mentally ill patient is allowed to be locked into a room without being constantly supervised. The state decided to deal with it in their psychiatric hospital by making it so the isolation room could not be locked unless someone stood there and kept constant pressure on this button.

The nurses were trying to get Dorthy to take some more medication that the on call doctor had prescribed to further calm her down.  Dorthy was refusing and the nurses told her that she could not get out of the isolation room until she did.  Dorthy kept screaming at them and telling them no.  So when no one was looking except the poor nurse holding the button, I snuck over to the observation window of the isolation room, and started talking to Dorthy.  She instantly calmed down.  I told her about the coloring books my daughter had sent me and how I had not seen them yet because the nurses had not had time to go through my presents. However, if she would calm down and take her medicine, she and I could color together.  That seemed to do the trick, after that she took the medication, and the nurses let me have my coloring books and crayons. Dorthy and I sat down and colored together for a while.

A couple of hours after the one woman riot, there was loud shouting and banging and cussing coming from the hallway that separated the men and women’s sides of the unit.  I could only imagine what was happening now.

To be continued…

Scariest Time Of My Life – Part X
Back to Part VIII

This is the next section of how I ended up in a state run psychiatric hospital and my experiences there.

Visitors!  I was so excited when one of the nurses told me that my visitors were waiting for me.  I was ready to get out to where they were right then and there.  Unfortunately, I had to wait, and wait and wait and wait.  I had to wait for a nurse to be available to walk me out to where my visitors were, and that nurse also had to be available to stay with me and my visitors for an hour.  Finally, one of the nurses was ready to take me to my visitors.  There was no visiting room, we had to meet and talk in a very small lobby area.  Right about the time we were heading to the lobby, nurses from both the men and women’s section decided it was time to take everyone who could outside.  All of those patients had to go through the lobby area.  More waiting.  Once the path was clear, I was able to see who all had come to see me.  My husband, my brother and my sister-in-law.  I was so happy to see all of them.  There were hugs all around.  Those were the best hugs I had ever had.  We all sat down, including the nurse who found a chair a few feet away.

I think my husband and brother were shocked at what they had seen at the hospital.  My sister-in-law had done an internship there a few years ago, so she was more prepared than the rest.  My brother told me how when they were waiting by the gate to be let in, a patient that was out in the “yard” took a great deal of interest in his watch, so when the patient was not looking he put his watch in his pocket.  They all mentioned that there was a pile of poo by the gate, and since there are no animals at the hospital, they all highly suspected that it came from a patient.  Later on when I mentioned that to a nurse, she verified that there was a male patient that had a habit of doing that.  I think with what my family had seen when they were coming into the hospital, they became more concerned about me, but being how they are, they did not voice their concerns so that I would not become more anxious.

I told them what unit was like, and how awful the food was.  I described some of my fellow patients and nurses.  Then the difficult conversation started.  They all wanted to know, from me, what happened the day I ended up in the hospital.  I told them how for several days I had been feeling bad, and how at the time I did not recognize that it was because of my medication not working properly.  I described how as each day passed I felt worse and worse, and that my emotions were out of control.  My brother and sister-in-law wanted to know why I had not told anyone, and I honestly did not have a good answer for that.  I then got to the day when things went awry.  I explained how it had been time for me to take my medications, and how I took ten extra beta blockers and in my mind I was already planning to take more extra medication in an hour and how I was just going to keep repeating that until I had successfully committed suicide.  I told them how after I did that I realized that my thinking was not right, and I tried to call my counselor, and I was told she was not in.  After I was told she was not in and did not have any available appointments the next day, the receptionist transferred me to the crisis line, telling me that the crisis line could get me an emergency appointment.  I explained how the person who answered the phone at the crisis line decided the crisis team needed to come to my house after she learned I had taken ten extra beta blockers and I had plan, before I called, to take more in an hour.  From there I told them that the crisis team decided I needed to be hospitalized.  I expressed how pissed off I was, that I had called for help and that in calling for help, I ended up in the state run psychiatric hospital, and how I would not be calling my counselor for help again, if this was the end result.

My brother is courageous.  He was the only person to point something out.  He pointed out that before I called for help, I had taken extra medication.  He also said that he felt even if I had gotten a hold of my counselor she would have had to have me hospitalized too.  He also said that give the same circumstances, that if I had called him or his wife they would have done the same thing,  I had taken extra medication and had plans to take more. 

I really hate it when my little brother is right, and he was.  I was not wanting to take responsibility for the fact that I had thought about and started attempting to kill myself, so it was very easy for me to blame the crisis team for me ending up in the hospital.  However, I still believe that how was I treated, in the medical hospital especially, was unacceptable.  I agreed that in the future, since I now knew what it felt like when my medication quit working, I would call someone before I started trying to kill myself.

My brother then wanted to know what would make me try and kill myself twice.  The best answer I had at the time was that it seemed like the only solution for what was going on in my head.  I gave him a better explanation later.

My doctor had asked that my husband come to the hospital Monday.  My sister-in-law let me know she was going to come with him.  That way if the doctor had any questions about family support or anything else she could be there to help my husband and show that I did have family support.

My visitors came bearing gifts!  My husband was a brave, brave man and had actually gone clothes shopping for me, and bought me some more comfortable clothing, and a new bra.  In my opinion it takes a real man to go bra shopping for his wife.  The day before, when I was talking to Anna (my daughter) on the phone I told her how bored I was, she had picked out some coloring books and crayons for my husband to bring me, so I would have something to do.  My sister-in-law had brought me some old pictures of my niece.  That was such a special gift, giving me something that had good memories attached to it.

For whatever reason, the nurse who was supervising us piped in and told me what a nice family I had.  He also offered his opinion that he did not think I would be in the hospital much past the weekend.  He said the nurses had noticed that I was socializing, participating in groups, and a few other things.  Then he let us know that it had been an hour and it was time for me to go back to the women’s section.  We all said our goodbyes, the nurse took my gifts so that one of the other nurses could check and make sure no one had snuck me a saw or some other escape tool.

I figured that now that my visitors were gone I would be a little sad the rest of the evening.  With what happened in the unit after we got back, I never had time to feel sad. As soon as I got back into the women’s section, it was time to take my medications.  I lined up with the other patients.  Dorthy was in line behind me, and she and I talked while we were waiting.  We made plans to play some more rummy after we took our medication.  When it was my turn, I took my medication and then found a chair by the nurse’s station to wait for Dorthy to finish her medication.

I overheard Dorthy tell the medication nurse that she was not going to take her medication.  No patient can be forced to take their medication if they do not want to, but the nurses do try and convince people to take what they are prescribed.  If that does not work then they mark in our charts that we refused the medication.  That way the doctors can see if we are being compliant.  So after Dorthy said she was not going to take her medication, the nurse began trying to convince her to take it.  Dorthy wandered away from the wi
ndow, spoke to me for a minute, she seemed calm as could be to me.

Two minutes later, I see a chair go flying through the unit.  It seems Dorthy decided to start a one woman riot.  People scattered, nurses started yelling, and I was too stunned to move from my chair.

To be continued…

Scariest Time In My Life – Part IX
Back to Part VII

This is the next section of how I ended up in a state run psychiatric hospital and my experiences there.

I realize that this story has ended up being very long.  If you have not gotten so bored that you have quit reading it by now, I probably should warn you that I am not sure how much longer it will take me to finish telling it.  Once I started writing it, the thoughts and the memories started to flow and I feel the need to keep writing the story until it is completed.   I want to hold on to the details, the thoughts and feelings I had during that time, and this seems the best possible way to do that.

I was up at my usual four in the morning time that Saturday morning.  It was nice and quiet and I was just using the time to get myself prepared for the day.  Since it was Saturday and there were no groups, I had an idea that it was going to be a very long and boring day, up until the time my visitors arrived.

A few minutes after I sat in the common area, one of the other patients got up and went to the restroom.  When she came out she realized that I was sitting out there and she decided to come and talk to me.  Her name was Patty.  I had seen her around the day before, and my impression of her was that she was loud, and used to getting her own way.  She started the conversation off by telling me she was getting out of the hospital that evening.  I did not say much to that because even I knew that patients were not discharged on the weekends.  She started to tell me how she ended up in the hospital, basically her husband tricked her and dropped her off there is how her story went.  She also shared her theory with me about why all of us women were in the hospital.  She felt that it was a punishment from God.  That because we had all married someone that God did not want us to, and that was the ultimate sin, that God was punishing us by making it so we had to be in the hospital.  I should not have done it, but I challenged her on what she said and told her that I thought she was wrong and why.  It appeared my disagreeing with her set up some kind of weird competition in her head.  She decided that she had to do anything she could to prove to me that she and I were equals or maybe even prove that she could dominate me.  Finally, I got up and wandered off and did my morning routine.

While everyone else was scurrying around taking showers and getting dressed, I sat on the couch near the pay phone.  Patty took that time to call her husband and give him some very strict, and slightly scary, instructions.  Like I mentioned earlier she had it in her head she was getting out that day.  Nothing that anyone could say would deter her from that thought.  So she called her husband up and told him she was getting out that evening when he came to visit.  I heard her say that she had not discussed it with the doctor but felt like if her husband came and brought a couple of friends with him, they could convince the doctor to let her go home.  I do not think her husband was all that convinced that she should come home, because the next thing I knew she is screaming “Be a hero, don’t be a zero” and telling him that if he did not do exactly as she told him to do and bring the proper friends to the hospital to get her, when she finally did get out of the hospital she was going to make his life miserable and even trick him and stick him in the hospital to see how he liked it.  She proceeded to scream the “Be a hero, don’t be a zero” phrase several more times, she told her husband what a complete idiot he was, and then she would let him know he was coming to get her out that day.  She seriously reminded me of the character Kathy Bates played in the Stephen King movie Mercy. 

We ate breakfast.  While I was in the dining room eating my breakfast I heard some woman screaming “I want my medicine!” and a lot of things being banged around.  I did not think too much of it until I got back to the women’s side of the unit, then I realized it was my new roommate pitching a fit because of the doctor not letting her have her regular medications.  My thought at the time was, I hope she does not get too nutty at night when I want to sleep. 

After breakfast there was nothing to do and most of the patients went back to bed and slept most of the day.  One of the nurses had clued me in on the fact that they take notes about us all day long and one of the things the doctors look for is if we are able to get along with our “peers”.  I decided it would be a wise decision to mingle with the other patients for a little bit.  That is when I met Dorthy.

Dorthy was a very young black woman, who had been in that hospital for four months, this time around.  She and I were talking and I happened to mention that it was too bad there was not even a deck of cards around the unit for us to amuse ourselves with.  She told me she had a deck in her room and went to get them.  She and I spent hours and hours playing rummy and talking.  Since we were not allowed to have anything to write with we could not keep score, the winner was decided by whoever had the most books by then end of a hand.  It greatly helped the time pass by.  Every once in a while another patient would join us.  Even though the setting was rather yucky, I really enjoyed getting to know Dorthy. 

Patty decided she wanted to play rummy against me.  She made up this rule that if she won or we got the same amount of books then that meant we were equals.  It took her three hands but finally she and I ended up with the same amount of books.  That is when she decided we were “equals”, that thought see to make her very happy. 

Lunch! Blah! Thank goodness for the jello!  I had decided that after lunch I would head back to my room and take a nap.  As I turned the corner, I noticed that my room door was shut.  I had been leaving it open because my roommate needed a shower and leaving the door open allowed the air to circulate more.  I figured she had shut it again because of the noise in the unit.  I opened my room door, and I remember standing there in shock, not really understanding what I was seeing.  My roommate had taken one end of her bed sheet and had wrapped it around her neck and then taken the other end of the bed sheet and wrapped it around the foot of her bed and was trying to choke herself.  I started hollering for a nurse, and they all came running.  After that she was moved to another room, where she could be placed on one on one observation. 

My new roommate was a patient who had been in the hospital for a few months and was going to be released on Monday.  Her name was Rhonda.  When she came into the room with her sheets and pillows and her other belongings, I noticed that on top of her t-shirt she had a man’s pajama top on.  She asked me if I had heard the news about her and Chester.  Chester was a patient from the men’s section of the unit.  The story she told me is that she and Chester met the day before in the unit where the groups are held and it was love at first sight.  Chester had given her his pajama top to wear, in much the same fashion that teenage boys let their girls where their letterman jackets.  So all that Rhonda needed to do at this point, was break up with her fiance, after he picked her up from the hospital, and then she and Chester, and her children would live happily ever after. 

All of this made for a very chaotic Saturday.  My brain felt over loaded with all that I had seen and experienced so far that day.  Right about the time, I thought I could not take anymore craziness, I was told my visitors had arrived.

Scariest Ti
me Of My Life – Part VIII
Back to Part VI