This is a reposting of a series of posts I wrote several months ago. It is about my stay at a state run psychiatric hospital. Several people had asked me what it had been like there, so I decided that it would be easier to repost what I had already written. Please keep in mind that this was written several months ago, when I was in a different frame of mind.
Not all of this story can be or should be told in one sitting. There is too much that happens and is also very difficult for me to talk about to even attempt to put it all in here at one time.
I have been on medication for my major depression and anxiety since I attempted to commit suicide at the end of May. I also have been seeing a counselor once a week. My counselor warned me up front that it could take several months to find the proper medication for me. She was correct. I took three different combinations of medications before we found a combination that we thought was working. I was feeling very encouraged and thought that things were finally headed in the proper direction.
For whatever reason, there came a week when I was not seeing my counselor. It was sometime in August. I think all of her appointments were filled for that week or something and things had been going well, so neither one of us were worried. She did say that if I ever needed her I could call her and she would work me in some how.
Without me realizing it my depression symptoms started sneaking up on me again. I became very angry, too angry. I was too sad, crying, and just was not able to maintain myself. I had not experienced a set back like that so I did not realize that what was happening was that my medication was not working. Things went on like this for four days. Then one day things just seem to suddenly seemed to take a major turn for the worse. I felt the same way I did when I tried to commit suicide. It happened to be time for me to take my other medications, and I found myself thinking that I could just start taking extra medication, over a few hours like I did when I tried to kill myself. Doing that way is fairly effective because the medication has tmie to get in your system and they cannot pump your stomach to remove it, also it prevents you from vomiting it back up. I opened up my first bottle of medication, it happened to be my Beta Blocker. I took what I was supposed to and then took ten extra. I was getting ready to take my other medication and do the same thing, take a few extra. Then in about an hour repeat the process.
Suddenly it dawned on me what it was I was doing. I mean really and truly in the forefront of my mind, I realized on every level that I was trying to kill myself again, that something was horribly wrong, and even though I wanted to die, I knew that I really did not want to. I did not take anymore medication. I made the decision to call my counselor and talk to her because I knew that she would be able to help me get side tracked onto something else so that I would not continue through with my suicide attempt and plans. I was thinking as I dialed the phone and it was ringing that I was doing what she told me to do and calling her when I was having trouble and that everything would be OK.
When the receptionist answered the phone, I let her know that I needed to speak to my counselor. That is when I found out she was not in that day. I explained the the receptionist that I did not have an appointment with my counselor that week but I have run into some problems and would she please set up an appointment for me to see my counselor the next day. I told her the truth about everything, I have told my family that I would always be honest during my treatment/recovery process, and the receptionist said that my counselor did not have anything available for the next day. However, she could transfer me to their crises line and they would be able to get me an emergency appointment. I was still feeling like everything would be OK, because I had called for help and that I would be able to see my counselor the next day.
After a few minutes on hold someone from the crisis line picks up the phone on their end. She asked me what was going on. I explained to her that I had not been feeling “right” for several days, and that a few minutes ago I had taken extra of my beta blocker and had planned to take extra of all my medications and repeat the process in an hour and keep on until I had committed suicide. I also explained that I had tried to call my counselor and get in to see her, but she did not have anything available, and that I was told that the crisis line could set me up an emergency appointment with her. I believe the fact that I told the crisis line lady the whole truth, about my suicide plans caused her a great deal of worry.
She let me know that she was very concerned about me, since I had already started implementing my suicide plan. She let me know that she felt that I needed to have their crisis team come to my house and assess me. Of course I told her no, that I was fine, I just needed that appointment with my counselor. She then gave me another option, I can allow the crisis team to come to my house and assess me OR she could send an ambulance and a sheriff deputy to my house to take me to the local emergency room against my will. I chose the crisis team.
The crisis team shows up to my house. There is a psychologist and a security officer. My daughter is very confused and concerned about what is going on. We live so far out in the country that we do not get visitors often and under normal circumstances I would not invite two men I did not know into my house. I ask my daughter to go to her room, while I talk to these men. I repeated the whole story. I had been experiencing a bad four days, I took extra of one of my medications, and had planned to do that with the others, and then I was going to repeat the process again in an hour. However, when I realized what I was doing I tried to call my counselor so that she and I could talk and figure out what was going on. And all that I really felt like I needed was to be able to get in to see her the next day. I was convinced they would see things my way, because after all, I had called for help before I finished implementing my whole plan.
The next thing I know, the psychologist is letting me know that he feels I really need to be in a hospital setting. That he feels my medication is not working properly and that he is afraid to let me stay at home since I have a “plan”. I gulped. I said “no”. I said “I am fine”. I said “you can leave now”. Then they pulled out their trump card. They are obligated by law to make sure I went to the hospital and I could go one of two ways. I could get a family member to drive me there, with them following, or they could call an ambulance and a sheriff’s deputy. All the time they are saying this, I am thinking that all I had been trying to do was get help from my counselor, how in the hell can this be happening? I was in shock and I really did not understand what just happened, except that for some reason these people think I need to go to the hospital.
I called my husband and told him just a very little bit. I called my grandmother and asked her if she could take me to the hospital, I talked to my daughter and told her t
hat “these nice men were worried about me and think I need to go be checked out at the hospital”. I still remember being in shock.
My grandmother got there as I was packing a few things in a bag. I was still in shock. She wanted to know what was going on and all I could say was that these men felt like I needed to be checked out at the hospital. I could not articulate anything else. I asked her to just drop me off at the hospital, and that I would be taken care of. I was still in shock.
The crisis team followed us all the way to the hospital. I got out of the car and the psychologist got out of their car. I remember my grandmother going up to him and telling him that he better take care of me. I think she was crying or was very close to it.
He walked me into the hospital and left me at the front desk with the lady there. I guess I had to have someone supervise me. He went back and talked to a nurse or doctor, or both. Within five minutes I was called back to triage and then taken to a room in the emergency department.
To be continued….
